Worth a try, I thought, and he seemed like a nice man. Early 30s and a marketing manager for a tech startup based near Silicon Roundabout. When we met he looked handsome in a dark blue suit. He’d gotten himself into a bit of romantic trouble last year after having an affair with a married woman. "Her husband didn’t pay any attention to her," he offered as a sort of explanation. "She was so smart" — he gave me a significant look — "and fun." Across the table (we’d migrated from a pub to a burger place) he looked downcast. "I’ve kept it a secret for so long, it’s nice to tell someone," he said. "Sometimes I open my messages on her name and think about what I’d say to her. Sometimes I type out a message. But I never send it." I nodded. "Is that weird?" he asked quickly.