My next date is only five days later, but my hopes are high for this one.

I’m back at my table for two in Luigi’s. Lerato greets me like an old friend and even the headwaiter gives me a smile and a wave. It might seem odd to keep choosing the same restaurant all the time, but I want my blind dates to start off on an even footing. I don’t want the venue to be a factor in how much I enjoy myself.

So far it’s no contest. Number 3 has won the race hands down. Not only is he fun to be with, but he’s amazing-looking too.

When Soraya and I were outlining my requirements in a guy, I happened to mention that my ideal man is Kanye West. A couple of days later she reported back that she hadn’t been able to come up with a Kanye West, but would a 50 Cent do instead? I told her that a 50 Cent would do very nicely, thanks.

I must admit that I wasn’t all that optimistic. I mean, let’s face it, how many guys out there actually look like 50 Cent?

Exactly. Practically none. But now that I’ve met him, all I can say is that Soraya has totally earned her tube of mascara. His name is Tyson and he looks like he spends most of his time at the gym. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt that shows off his super-buff torso. His abs are ripped into a six-pack and his arms ripple when he moves. His skin is like polished ebony. Just before he sat down, I caught a glimpse of powerful legs and a tight butt fitting snugly into a pair of faded Levis.

I think I’ll close my mouth now, before I start panting.

His looks aren’t even the best thing about him, if you can believe it. His personality is just as awesome. We’ve been getting on like a house on fire since the moment we met. The first thing he said to me was, ‘I love your pendant. Is that an amethyst?’

Can you believe it? He actually noticed my pendant!

Plus we’ve got tons of stuff in common. When we start talking about movies, we hardly know where to stop. It turns out that Mean Girls is one of his favourite films too. And I know he’s not just pretending to like it because as soon as I mentioned it, he did this hysterical eye-roll thing and said, ‘Oh, I know! It’s so fetch, isn’t it?’ Which just proves that he’s a real fan.

And he shops online too. He knows eBay better than I do, and tipped me off about a couple of sites that have Juicy Couture merchandise permanently on sale. He’s originally from Kokstad, but his dad lives in Joburg so he spends a lot of time there. He also misses the shops terribly when he’s in Grahamstown.

‘You’re the first girl I’ve met this year who really knows how to dress,’ he says when our food arrives. He has also ordered soup and a salad. ‘I’ve had two girlfriends since I got to varsity and I had to break up with both of them because they had absolutely zero fashion sense. The one was still wearing Ugg boots, if you can believe it.’ I wince sympathetically. ‘And the other wore all her clothes too loose, as if that would make her look thinner. It didn’t bug me too much at the beginning, but after about a month I just couldn’t take it any more. I mean, I make an effort with my appearance, don’t I? Is it unreasonable to expect my girlfriends to do the same?’

‘No-o …’ I say doubtfully. ‘But it would be different if you were really in love, wouldn’t it? I mean, nobody’s perfect. Everyone has their little quirks.’

‘I guess that means I have never really been in love,’ he says lightly. ‘Because I’ve never been able to overlook the little things.’

I find myself sitting a bit straighter in my seat and using my knife and fork more neatly. I imagine his x-ray eyes scrutinising every one of my annoying little habits. Which would be the one that breaks the camel’s back, I wonder. The way I laugh? The way I walk? The way I always miss the punch line of jokes? The way I wobble in high heels? God knows he’d have a lot to choose from.

It must be pretty stressful going out with a guy who’s never prepared to overlook the little things. Not that it would be all misery if that guy were Tyson. Any girl who was lucky enough to date him would know that she had scored the tastiest arm candy on campus. Not to mention the fact that he’s top of his class in accountancy and is going to make pots of money one day as a corporate whizz kid.

In fact, he’s almost too good to be true.

‘How much longer do you see the high-waisted pants thing lasting?’ he asks once we’ve both passed on dessert and ordered skinny cappuccinos. ‘Personally I think its days are numbered.’

‘Ooh, I hope so,’ I say, wrinkling my nose. ‘That’s one trend I never managed to get into.’

‘High waists are like everything else – you just have to give them a chance.’

‘Hey, when it comes to fashion I’ll try anything once. I bought a pair of high-waisted jeans from Soviet, and they were a total disaster. They made my bum look huge.’

‘You know what they say about that,’ he says, wagging a finger at me.

‘It’s not the jeans that make your bum look big,’ we chorus together.

We both laugh.

‘I know, I know!’ I say ruefully. ‘My bum has always been my weak point. But really, they were the most unflattering jeans I’ve ever worn. I looked like someone out of one of those scary eighties TV shows on the Series channel. Like Knightrider or something.’

‘Don’t Hassle the Hoff,’ he says instantly, and we laugh again. I love the way he’s so quick on the uptake.

‘Listen,’ he says suddenly. ‘Don’t you want to come round to my place tomorrow afternoon to watch DVDs? I’m screening Dreamgirls and Hairspray back to back. It’ll be a blast.’

‘Dreamgirls?’ I say uncertainly. A little bell is starting to go off in the back of my head. You’re probably thinking I’m a bit slow to catch on here, but in my defence I have to say that you’d need to see him to comprehend exactly how hot he is.

‘Yes.’

‘And Hairspray?’

‘Yes. What’s wrong? They’re both awesome.’

‘Okay. Snap quiz. What are your views on Abba?’

‘Love them.’

‘Shirley Bassey?’

‘Love her.’

‘The Wizard of Oz? Judy Garland? Cher? Dallas re-runs?’

‘Adore them all. Are you going somewhere with this?’

‘No, not really.’

I sag a little in my seat.

Well, so much for the romance of the century. I probe my emotions gently to try to figure out how I’m feeling about this. Disappointed? Maybe a little. Relieved? Just a tad.

Look at it this way, I’m not losing a boyfriend, I’m gaining a friend. And this is absolutely the first blind date I haven’t been desperate to ditch at the end of the evening. I feel absolutely no desire to SMS Steph and beg her to rescue me.

In fact …

‘You know what,’ I say impulsively. ‘My friends and I are going dancing at Friar’s later. How would you like to come along?’

He beams at me. ‘I’d love to! Dancing is my absolute best.’

Tell us: What do you think of blind dates?