I always called him Pup and he generally referred to me as Miss. My partner and I had split up the previous year, after a 13-year relationship.
And not long after that, in July 2012, I had woken up to the depressing realisation that it was my 60th birthday.
I hadn't expected to find love, I hadn't been searching for it, I wasn't even sure I wanted it.
Everything was built on shifting sand, nothing was solid or reliable or entirely real.
Perhaps from now on I would focus on my relationships with my family. My sons were then aged 35 and 29, and my grandchildren were two and five. Lifting the lid on his relationship with Monica, Tom said: 'We knew we'd never have a conventional relationship.
I knew we'd never live together and that I¿d never meet her family. I would pack in as much as I could while I still had the face, the body and the desire for it. 'Maybe we could get to know each other a bit better...' And so my liaison with Pup was arranged.
The more you wanted to believe in the emotional value of a particular connection, the more likely it was to be merely a mirage.
I felt my internet-dating exploits edging towards some sort of culmination.