Intelligence, curves and a wealthy father: Becky V had it all.
Trouble was, my jaw locked each time I went to invite her to the college prom.
In the end mutual friend James Subden agreed to ask on my behalf. Remarkably she said yes.
When the night finally arrived and we coyly took our seats (she in her elegant black dress, me in my brother's suit) my cheeky repartee went AWOL once more.
The prawn cocktails were served; our eyes still hadn't met. It was becoming awkward.
Began to feel a nausea which, to this day, still afflicts me in restaurants. By the time the mains were cleared, rival boys sensed my weakness. Needed to get her attention sharpish.
In a physical act of desperation I grabbed a bouquet of balloons from the middle of our table - but in doing so spilt wine in her friend's handbag. Checkmate.
My date disappeared around 10pm. Never did find out where she went.
Two years ago, after a brief and friendly reunion, I told Becky I loved her in a text. She replied that we'd only ever be friends. Haven't spoken since.