He said he was an entrepreneur. His mum collected him halfway through our date.

I went on a date with a man whose profile described him as an entrepreneur. When I asked what sort, he said he was “building a few things” and changed the subject to the importance of independence. He had chosen the restaurant. He told me he dislikes people who need constant reassurance and said his ideal partner would have their own life. All perfectly reasonable. I was enjoying my olives. Then his phone rang. He looked at it, declined the call and said, “Work.” It rang again. This time he answered and said, very quietly, “Mum, I told you half nine.” It was twenty past eight. There is nothing wrong with getting a lift from your mum. My mother would collect me from almost anywhere, although she would require the full story and possibly petrol money. The surprising bit was what happened next. He explained that she had been to Dunelm and finished early. She could not find anywhere to park. Could we “sort the bill quite quickly”? We had ordered mains. Mine had just arrived. His mother could either circle the block or come in for a drink, I suggested. He looked horrified and said she didn’t like town driving. So he asked for his dinner in a box. While the waiter dealt with that, he resumed telling me about his plan to work from Bali. I asked whether his mother would be driving him. I admit the delivery could have been warmer. He paid for his food, kissed me on the cheek and left with a bag of sea bass. Through the window I watched him put it carefully in the back of a Nissan Micra, next to a new lampshade. He has messaged to say he felt we had “different levels of ambition”. Possibly. Mine was to finish dinner.