He's tall, dark and handsome with a chiselled jaw. "Hi," I shout. He looks blank. It is him, I'm sure it is. "You look just like your photo," I say.

"Well you don't look anything like yours," he snaps.

How did I get into this situation? Let me explain.

It was my 34th birthday. My friends had gathered for a surprise party. Some surprise! "Look what I've got you," said Kara, whom I've always hated though she did once save me from drowning. "I've placed an ad for you with an online dating agency. "Desperate thirtysomething nearing sell-by date. Any offer considered."

My heart sank. All my friends were either married or in relationships. There was my perfect sister, Livvy - her marriage was so perfect you could tell something bad was going to happen shortly. Then there was Tab and Will, and my two obligatory cliched camp gay friends.

And me. Single, working as a researcher for a morning TV makeover show. So I went on a few dates. Most were neanderthal Ross Kemp types I ran a mile from, and then there was the gorgeous Simon who dashed out of the restaurant, leaving me to pay.

"He must have been married," I say to Livvy.

"I've got some bad news," she replies. Were she and Michael splitting up? "I've got breast cancer."

"Gosh, that makes my problems seem rather small. I'm going to do something worthwhile with my life."

My phone rang. "I'm Ben, a friend of Will's. I run a hospice for children. I wonder if you could give a makeover to one of our tireless workers whose son recently died of leukaemia."

"OK. Let's meet for a drink."

Ben was good-looking in an understated, sensitive way. "It must be very hard for you to deal with your sister's illness issues," he lisps caringly.

"Don't get too involved," Will warns me. "I saw him hugging another man at the rugby club. Definitely gay."

My flame-haired boss calls me into her office. "No more of that wishy-washy stuff on my programme."

"Well, you can stuff your job," I flounce.

Back home, I find an email from Simon. "Sorry about last time. I was married but now I'm not. Let's meet again."

He looks as gorgeous as ever. "Bad news about your sis, old girl," he barks. "Now get those stockings off."

Yummy sex, but surely there should be more to a relationship than this.

Another email appeared from a man named Ben. "I'd like to get to know you properly before we meet." We chatted for weeks online, before he invited me to dinner.

It was Ben! "I'm not gay," he says. "I was caring for a man whose partner was dying."

I was the happiest girl alive.

It was my 35th birthday.

"I'm in remission and doing well," says Livvy.

"The IVF worked," says Tab. "I'm pregnant."

"Will you marry me?" squeaks Ben.

The digested read ... digested

Deirdre's photo casebook without the photos