The three questions I would ask me, answered before you have to

If I were you I would not read this either, so here are the three questions I would ask me, answered in advance, and you can decide from those whether the rest is worth your evening.

One: what has he actually done. Six years, two dynamics, one of eleven months and one of three years, the second ending when she wanted to live together and I turned out not to be brave. That is the true answer and it does not flatter me.

Two: what is he like when it is inconvenient. Mixed. I am reliable about anything with a time attached and unreliable about anything open ended, so I have learned to ask for deadlines instead of intentions, and to say when I am struggling rather than going quiet, which was my old habit and which cost me the three years.

Three: what does he want. A relationship, led by her, with the ordinary parts left in. I would like to handle the bits of her life she finds tedious, to be corrected properly when I have been careless, and to know where I stand on a Tuesday without having to ask.

Thirty seven, east London, I repair bicycles for a living, my flat is small and entirely mine, and I can host. Not looking for anything that stays purely online. Not looking for a woman who wants a man with no history, because everybody our age has a history and mine is thoroughly average.