Never agree to a blind date organised by a distant friend. It can reveal how little he or she knows you.

I made the mistake of being persuaded into meeting a bloke for a drink just because my so-called friend said she'd knew we'd hit it off. "Every time I talk to him, I'm reminded of you," she'd enthused and she was so certain of our likeness, I found myself believing that I would be meeting a soulmate.

I'd jokingly said to a mate that I was going on a first date but that she should phone me pretending to be a flatmate who's been locked out of home so I could have a ready escape route if I wanted it.

I turned up at the tube station where we were meeting and immediately spotted him holding his Evening Standard in the agreed manner.

My heart sank when I noticed that he was wearing trousers riding above his ankles. He was looking the other way and I could have taken that split second opportunity to carry on walking past him as he had no idea what I looked like.

But I was frozen by a stupid sense of decency so I approached him and said hello. He seemed instantly disappointed too and I remember thinking how we both knew we were going ahead with the date for the sake of our mutual friend.

We trudged off to a coffee shop and sat among people who looked like they were having big laughs with their friends.

We fell into a fairly interesting chat about families, work and a self-help programme he'd registered for. He told me all about his life as a pharmaceutical salesman and I wittered on about my job. He seemed very open and I felt like I could talk to him about anything, though in the same way I would when reporting the details of a personal ailment to my GP.

Anyway, we both thawed a bit and he suggested next time round we should go to a musical or a show.

Just as I was deciding that in the absence of any chemistry, he would actually make a really sweet friend who I could occasionally go to shows with, his mobile phone went and he answered the call animatedly. The exchange that followed was fairly transparent. He was obviously talking to a good friend who had made some urgent demand that required his immediate attention.

He very theatrically confirmed that he was cutting his plans short for the evening and was coming to rescue his friend from whatever predicament he was in. There was a point in the phone call at which he smirked fleetingly and returned to sounding unconvincingly genuine.

"I've got to go straight away. I promised my friend that I'd deliver a computer to him and he needs it. Now," he said.

Yeah, right. I should have kept on walking when I saw him at the tube station.