No-one watching me.

"You don't want a girlfriend," I was recently reminded. "You want an audience." And despite her best efforts to, er, buck the trend, I went home alone that night and showed her that, in fact, I wanted neither. Oh, I showed her alright...

But waking up alone, again, I wondered whether there was any truth in her observation. I kind of wish I'd stuck around for its attempted deconstruction. But in all honesty, it's a fact that's been pointed out to me before.

I met her on a blind date, we'd e-mailed each other before the first meeting and she'd had the foresight to Google me in advance. Perhaps to check that I wasn't a suspected terrorist, a registered sex offender or a Tory.

But what she didn't expect was three pages of results, the first of which led her to this blog. "I have a lot less sex than people imagine," were the first words she must have read. And the dates that followed proved that I can, in fact, have even less sex than that.

But I appreciated her honesty in admitting her research, more so than her awkward first date questions. "Who is the real San Sharma?" She asked. "The man or the domain?"

I didn't expect questions any more soul searching than 'what's your favourite colour?' from a first date, but hers got me thinking.

Is being single intrinsic to my personality? Or to my persona, as a "single, metrosexual, twentysomething, British Indian male", as per the blurb above?

"What I'm asking is," she continued. "Can you have a girlfriend and an audience?" I didn't think that was an invitation to tape us having sex, so I told her that, at this time, I didn't think the two were possible. And walked home, with no-one watching me.