In which I wonder what exactly is going on

We all know that there are rules around dating... but does anyone have the faintest clue what they actually are? I only ask because I have no idea what I'm doing.

Yesterday I went on a second date with Good On Paper Guy. Yes, a second date, despite the fact that I didn't really want to go on the first one. You may assume that when we met for drinks the first time, my reservations were cast aside and the sparks flew. You would be wrong. The date was perfectly nice, but I still didn't fancy him. The reason I went out with him a second time was that he was persistent, and I'm too polite to say no. Having attempted to avoid the situation with a variety of transparent excuses, I eventually bumped into him in the pub on Friday night, where he said "So are you going to let me take you out again?" and I found myself saying "What about lunch?"

Lunch was undeniably lovely. We went to a Michelin starred restaurant and sat outside in the sunshine drinking wine and eating amazing food. He was sweet and entertaining and interesting, and refused to let me pay my share despite the fact the bill came to more than £70. (In fact, there's a good rule for men to look out for - if I'm insistent about paying my share, it's because I don't plan to see you again and don't want to take advantage.) The trouble is, what if he asks me out again? What can I say? Ending a relationship is one thing, but admitting you don't even want to see how things might progress seems really cruel. On the other hand, I'd really rather that I didn't end up marrying him out of politeness.

In other news, Future Husband returned from his holiday with a beautiful framed print he had bought me in an antique shop, and we spent a happy afternoon kissing like teenagers. Meanwhile, we absolutely failed to discuss any elements of what's going on between us, which is odd because we talk about everything, all the time. To further complicate matters, I've spent so much time being indoctrinated by elements of The Rules that I have now developed a phobia of texting or calling a man, even if I have known that man for more than two decades. If you think that sounds mad, it gets worse: I haven't even read The Rules, somehow I've just learned them via osmosis. My loved-up friends think I'm mental, but if a potential date is going to disappear off the face of the earth (as seems to happen to single friends, male and female, with alarming regularity), I'd much rather that he didn't realise I was interested in the first place. Of course if you're genuinely not interested, men will behave like perfect gentlemen, with regular, witty texts and expensive lunches.

If dating is a game, does anyone happen to know how one would go about winning it?

In which I wonder what it means to be single

It is three months since the Former Love of my Life and I made the decision to split up, and it feels like three years. I still feel like I'm drowning if I think about him too much... but I've realised that I'm going to be ok. I don't know when, or if, I'll ever wake up and not care about him, but I've realised that even when something heartbreaking happens, life is good. And I've learnt a few things about being single:

1. Girlfriends are the best. A girlfriend told me that the only possible reason that The Brazilian hadn't called is that he'd died. When I told her he'd updated his Facebook profile that morning, she told me I was in denial. I laughed so much I forgot to be sad.

2. You have more friends than you think. I have driven to Wales to spend the bank holiday with a dreadlocked uni friend, been clubbing with a girl I haven't seen since I was 10 and her hilarious friends, watched the Royal Wedding with friends I've seen every few months since I was four, and been to a gig with a Twitter friend I'd never met before. And that's just the start of it.

3. You meet men everywhere - but you might not care. When I was in a relationship, I thought I might be missing something, or someone. Now I realise I probably wasn't. There are gorgeous, kind, sweet men everywhere (as well as some grade A tossers) but most of them aren't for me. I'll wait for someone exceptional, thanks very much.

4. Bathtimes are depressing. God knows why, but I've lost count of the number of times I found myself crying in the bath. Often I accompanied the crying by mournfully singing Adele songs. Maybe it's a rite of passage for the broken hearted. Exercise damage limitation and don't take a glass of Pinot to the bathroom with you.

5. On a related note, Pinot is depressing too. Drink Martinis instead. You might fall off your stilettos and graze your knees like a schoolchild (hypothetically, of course) but you're less likely to end up sobbing under the duvet.

6. You can be really, really selfish. It's awesome. When I was in a relationship, mine was the "sensible car", with five seats and boot space. I've since bought an apple green convertible. I also bought clothes I knew my ex would hate, and had my hair cut the way I wanted it for the first time. Can you believe I'd never decided on my own hair cut without wondering if a guy would like it? Jeeeeezus.

7. You will remember what you actually like. I have listened to Adele's new album pretty much every day, I have watched the Sex and the City movie about six times, and I've filled the gaps in between with the Cold Feet box set and a pile of books. Oddly enough, I haven't watched a single episode of Top Gear.

8. You can plan for a future which is all about you. Yes, I hope to get married one day, but before then I plan to buy my own flat, with money I have saved up, and decorate it however I like. Pink, probably.

9. You should buy a Rabbit. Don't ask questions, just do it.

10. Being single is a permanent state of hopefulness. You could meet your next Great Love anywhere you look. He might be your best friend, or the guy you meet at the bar, or someone you work with, or the drummer in the band, or Prince Harry. Tonight might be the night you meet him. Or it might just be the night you drink fifteen Martinis and graze both your knees.

In which I agree to a date I don't really want to go on

I've been a bit quiet of late, what with the two bank holiday weekends, a trip to Wales, a hen do, a new car and a promotion all happening in the last two weeks! I've been far too busy writing angry letters to banks and insurance companies (a bit of a speciality of mine - I should start a sideline in professional complaints) to have any time left over for blogging, and with so much going on, I haven't really known where to start...

Future Husband* went on holiday last week, but spent the whole week texting me. When he got back, we spent nearly two hours on the phone. I even told Forces Wife about my feelings for him, as he was her first love, and under normal circumstances I wouldn't go near a friend's ex for all the shoes in Louboutin. She told me to go for it, bless her. I didn't think she'd be upset, especially considering that she is marrying a wonderful man is in less than a month, but I felt very uneasy about it all the same. It's a weight off my shoulders to have her blessing.

So FH and I are slowly maneuvering our twenty-two year relationship into new and much more dangerous waters. I haven't seen him since our amazing weekend together, partly due to his holiday, and partly due to the fact that (I have now remembered) he is wholly unreliable. I was supposed to be seeing him today in fact, but he went out last night and didn't wake up until three. Maybe this is why we're not together! Still, I'm excited to see where this might go, despite the fact he's a mature student who's incapable of setting an alarm.

In the meantime, I found myself agreeing to a date with a man who is incredibly Good On Paper. I met him at birthday drinks for one of my lovely colleagues, we hit it off, and the following day he asked my friend for my number and texted to ask me out. He's thirty-something, works in IT, drives a BMW, owns his own flat... and I don't fancy him at all. It's not that he's unattractive - he's actually lovely, and really fit - but I'm just not feeling the spark. However, in the name of playing the dating game, I found myself saying yes to post-work drinks next week. It doesn't sit that well with me considering the situation with FH, but that's almost why I agreed to it - it would be easy to start treating FH as a boyfriend, and he isn't. Yet. Still, I feel a bit bad for leading Good On Paper Guy on when I'm fairly certain there won't be a second date, but isn't that what being single is all about? Meeting people, having a laugh, enjoying each other's company for a while...

So we shall see. Neither the date with Good On Paper Guy nor the next meeting with Future Husband have been confirmed yet, and with my recent track record I won't be putting any money on either of them actually taking place!

*I'm beginning to wish I'd chosen a different moniker... 'Future Husband' has lost its irony in recent weeks!

In which it turns out that all is not quite what it seems

Today was a beautiful day, and with the bank holiday weekend almost upon us, my team decided to treat ourselves to lunch in the sunshine. Wandering back to the office with two of my colleagues, the conversation turned to the colleague who (unbeknown to them) recently asked me out, and the fact that he is dating my schoolfriend.

"Really?" questioned my brunette colleague. "He's seeing someone?"

"Mmm," I responded with forced nonchalance. "It's early days, but he seems to like her. I think he cooked her dinner the other night."

Brunette raised her eyebrows and replied, slightly frostily, that she supposed that it was a good thing he was looking outside of the office for once.

Obviously, my interest was piqued, so I questioned this. "Ooh, no-one you know," replied Brunette, who has worked at The PR Agency for a lot longer than me. "I think he had a thing with someone who left last year, and, well... we did exchange a couple of emails."

I glanced at her but she was staring pointedly ahead. "Um..." I ventured. "I exchanged a couple of emails with him too." Now Brunette looked round, so I continued with a wry smile, "He asked me out."

"He asked me out!" said Brunette, looking surprised.

Now I wondered what I'd gotten into, so I quickly explained that he'd cancelled on me. "He's cancelled on me five times!" said Brunette, now starting to laugh. Just as we thought it could get worse, our companion chimed in, "He hit on me too."

Brunette and I both turned to stare at Blonde, who is married! "We went for lunch," she continued, "and afterwards he emailed saying he knew it was inappropriate, but he thinks I'm really great."

By this point we were all in stitches. "He sent me that same email!" I squealed. "But without the bit about it being inappropriate!"

"He's probably got a template set up in Outlook!" laughed Brunette, and we all dissolved into fits of giggles.

Further investigation suggests that he's been 'involved' with Brunette the longest, with Blonde coming in a couple of months ago and me most recently. We haven't checked the dates exactly, but it seems there may have been some cross-over between Brunette and I - it's not impossible that he was emailing us on the same days. We've decided to put out a few feelers and see if anyone else has been in any way involved - it seems likely, don't you think?! You have to have a grudging respect for him really. He's been putting a lot of trust in the idea that we won't talk to each other about it... either that or, as Forces Wife suggested, he's completely shameless!

The gentleman in question is leaving work in a couple of months, so we have plenty of time to plot our revenge. We'd like to bring to his attention the fact that he's been caught out... and preferably in a fairly public way! As he's dating someone, we don't want to go down the obvious route of asking him out and then all turning up, in a John Tucker Must Die type scenario, but we've got plenty of time to think of an alternative... and if you have any ideas, I would love to hear from you!

In which something changes

In light of my recent disappointments with men, I turned to the one guy I knew I would have fun with: Future Husband. Last time I saw FH was a year ago, and we went for a very expensive lunch at Inamo in Soho (if you haven't been, you must) followed by a wander round Fortnum's to buy gold leaf-encrusted cakes which we later ate in Trafalgar Square. This time we decided to go all out and make a weekend of it, the highlights of which included:

Eating zebra steak at my favourite restaurant. It was so good you could have eaten it raw, which at one point I pretty much did as we were laughing so much I forgot to check it was cooked.

Raiding my parents' cocktail cabinet and staying up until seven in the morning drinking my dad's expensive vodka. I don't remember the last time I saw dawn - I'm just not that hardcore.

Listening to Bruce Springsteen records. If there's one thing I like more that listening to Bruce Springsteen CDs, it's listening to Bruce Springsteen records. I love that gorgeous scratchy sound and the way that replacing the pin on the record is a thousand times more atmospheric than skipping the track on a CD. The records included live versions of 'Fire' and 'Cadillac Ranch', which I love, and while we listened to them we sat outside drinking wine.

Laughing at 'art' at the Tate Modern. We loved the sunflower seeds, but were less impressed by the school coat hooks covered in mud. I mean, what?!

All in all, it was the best weekend I've had in a long time. There's just one thing. Sitting in FH's kitchen, listening to Neil Diamond and watching him do the washing up, I suddenly realised that I might just be absolutely, head over heels in love with this gorgeous man.

Oh, shit.

In which I ponder the meaning of 'honesty'

Honesty is a prized quality. We all want honesty in our lives, from our friends, our co-workers and our lovers. Nobody wants to be lied to. But the trouble with all this honesty is that people are fickle. If you're too honest, there can be consequences, because what you want today may not be what you want next week.

Of course, I've been pondering this for a reason, and I'm sure it won't take a genius to work out that that reason involves a man. A couple of weeks ago, around the time I was being messed about by The Brazilian, a colleague of mine was having a flirtation with one of my old schoolmates. It turned out that the schoolmate had a boyfriend, and somewhere along the line my commiserations with The Colleague ('Why are all the good ones taken?' 'Why don't men call?') turned to flirting, and he asked me out.

Now, it's always a risk to get involved with a workmate, but knowing that he'd been headhunted and would be leaving soon, I accepted. Drinks with a handsome single man? Yes please. Plus I liked his honesty. I liked the straightforward way he said he liked me and would like to get to know me better. (Yes, it's that word, 'straightforward', again and no, it didn't work out well for me last time but I live in misplaced hope.)

To cut a long story short, the date didn't happen. Deja vu, anyone? The schoolfriend broke up with her boyfriend and The Colleague decided to go out with her instead. He cancelled our date, claiming to be a 'one women guy', which would be have been admirable if he hadn't forgotten that (for the time being at least) that one woman was supposed to be me.

This is where honesty comes into it all, because in cancelling our date, he said, "I know it's shit, and I'm sorry Ruby, but I'm just being honest with you". Do I want that kind of honesty? The kind that says, 'I chose to date someone I'd never met before over you'? The kind that allows him to hurt me and then claim the defence of honesty? The kind that allows him to forget that a week ago he was being honest when he said he wanted to go out with me?

Of course, the honest response to this would be, "Ouch - please excuse me while I go and cry in the ladies"... which is why I chose to lie outrageously, claimed I couldn't care less and then turned up at work the next day in a new dress, seamed stockings and six inch stilettos. What else could I do? I've been asked on two dates in the last month, and neither man has hung around long enough for even one drink. This is not an impressive record.

Still, onwards and upwards! And until then, I have a weekend with my Future Husband* planned. In the name of complete honesty, I've already told him that if he dares cancel on me I'm going Glen Close on his ass.

*Future Husband became a firm friend age four, when we realised we shared a birthday. Looks like a young Bruce Springsteen, dated Forces Wife about a decade ago, our parents would like us to marry. Despite having looks, charm and intelligence, he is almost certainly not my future husband.

In which I do not go on a date

I decided what to wear to the BBQ. It took a week, but I eventually chose skinny jeans, a loose-fitting vest and sky high heels. I was pretty confident about it. It's a good look. I'm wearing it now in fact, as it is the day of the BBQ. I'm wearing it to watch Cold Feet in my bedroom.

The Brazilian didn't call. It was a promising start, with the texts, and the call, and some more texts during the week, but we never actually managed to arrange anything and I haven't heard from him all weekend. Maybe I'm just being naive, but I wouldn't be surprised if he just had a busy night at work last night and isn't even awake yet. Still, it's disappointing and more than a little embarrassing, given that I told half the people I know that I had a date today.

I hope this isn't what it's going to be like, dating. I'd like to actually attend a date at some point, rather than just spend my weekends wondering if my phone is broken. Of course, it is the 21st century, and I could just call him, but where's the pride in that? I'd almost definitely just end up feeling worse.

In the meantime, Former Love of my Life has been in touch, in a Facebook message to everyone he knows, asking us to his birthday party. He's going to an 80s club, something we'd been talking about for months before we split up. Obviously I'm not going to go. Obviously. But I do now get to be included on the many, many messages from all of our friends, who I no longer see as we have split up, planning a night out I originally suggested. Lovely. Why did he invite me? Surely he doesn't want me to go. Surely he knows I don't want to go. I loved him far too much to be friends. Last time I saw him I burst into tears in seconds.

I would worry about what it all means, but to be honest, as with The Brazilian, I suspect it means very little. I spend my whole life talking to my girlfriends about what men mean and in most cases they appear to be mainly forgetful, lazy or confused. In the meantime, women (or me at least) insist on overanalysing every single thing and we just make ourselves miserable. The game playing is exhausting, isn't it?