Now that it's started to get cold outside, the thoughts of many singletons have turned to finding an affectionate squeeze to spend cosy nights in front of the fire with. 

Although I'm very happy with my single status, my most recent romantic encounter has left me wondering if I'm craving some of that affection too.

Last Friday saw me head out with an old pal for dinner and some drinks.  She spent the evening regaling me with tales of her lovely new boyfriend whilst I listened gamely, secretly glad I didn't have to worry about buying a Christmas present for someone who probably wouldn't last into the new year. 

It was in the club we went to afterwards that things took a romantic turn.  Although I was quite content with drinking and dancing, I did sneak the odd glance up towards the DJ box, just to see who was about.  It soon dawned on me that the DJ himself was gazing in my direction.  From where I was standing, he looked great. Tall, lithe and with a nice combination of jet black hair and alabaster skin. 

Moving to another part of the dancefloor, just to make sure that his gaze didn't naturally focus on where I was standing, it became clear that he was still looking.  After fifteen minutes of mutual glances and hand-wringing discussion with my pal over what was an acceptable song request, I ventured up to say hello and ended up arranging a Sunday date. 

Hugh scored himself brownie points by suggesting we go ice skating at Somerset House.  Much as I'd have made retching noises at hearing any of my friends planning the same thing, I was secretly thrilled by the prospect of some festive romance. 

We arrived at the blue-lit rink too early, meaning there was enough time for mulled wine and lingering glances.  Having clambered into a worryingly moist pair of skates, I watched as Hugh slid off elegantly, beckoning me to join him.

Sadly, any visions I had of myself gliding across the ice were soon shattered by raw, all consuming fear.  A chavvy-looking circus-type sped around the rink at terrifying speed, sending me straight into the side wall, where I stayed for the remainder of the hour.

Initially, Hugh found the nervousness amusing, but soon got fed up of trying to get me out into the middle with him and skated off by himself, talking to other similarly fearless randoms.  Seeing them laughing and showing each other their moves didn't bother me, but it became apparent after that my cowardice had killed his ardour.

"That was lovely," I said afterwards, commenting on the views and the architecture.  He replied with a curt nod. 

"We'll have to do something else nice after Christmas," I then said, trying to salvage something that had started so romantically.

"Sure."  He replied, gazing intently in the window of a closed Superdrug we walked past. 

As we got to the tube, Hugh said goodbye with a quick, polite kiss.  I gave a watery smile, walked towards the Bakerloo line and tried to dispell the unexpected sadness at the prospect of another squeezeless Christmas.