In last week’s column I was telling everyone about this guy who asked for my number at the post office and then proceeded to bombard me with text messages and phone calls. Anyway, the point of the whole article was that I was wondering if I had been a cock tease or not because I dared to give away my digits, thus causing him to actually use them. Anyway, I am bringing this up again because you will not BELIEVE what happened during the week.

So he hits me up again right, all casual. Just a simple “Do you want to get a drink tonight?”. I decide to reiterate what I have already told him: that I am simply just not interested but thank you nonetheless. And you know what I get in return? “Are you wearing fucking iron panties or something?” I’m not even joking – that was his response. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise being straight-up and honest was code for playing hard to get. Silly me! And THEN, before I can even respond he sends a follow-up message for good measure saying, “You couldn’t handle my fuck anyway.” Is this guy for real? So, being the lady that I am, I replied honestly and matter of factly with a simple, “You are not a gentleman.” And that, thank God, was that.

See, I do by most accounts consider myself to be a lady. Yes I swear and I am open-minded about certain conversational topics and I drink till I’m drunk sometimes and I quite enjoy a dirty joke but, when it comes to relationships of the romantic variety, I do like to put on my little metaphorical lady hat and, in turn, I like my men to sport their metaphorical smoking jacket. Manners people, I’m talking about manners.

Sex is the fun part of these romantic liaisons and the dirty talk and over-familiarity will be endless, all going well. But in the beginning, during the get-to-know-yous and whatnot, that time is so wonderfully precious because it is fleeting. Great love stories were built on the chase, the thought of what could be and the surprise of it all. Sordid sex stories are best reserved for that Fifty Shades of whatever crap and Mills and Boon Novels with Fabio on the cover.

Women like to be wooed – they like to be chatted up and admired before you go tearing at the package and devouring what is inside. How do you eat your Magnum ice cream? You slowly pick off the chocolate right? And then you cut sick on the ice cream. That chocolate bit is the best part! Why? Because there is hardly any of it whereas there is ice cream for days!

I feel that in this ‘just add water’ instant gratification culture of the internet generation that patience and manners have either died or moved to Perth. You know how like in Neighbours if someone is being written out of the show they either die or move to Western Australia? Either way, you know they are never coming back and it really is such a pity. Thank God for Hollywood rom-coms because, to be honest, they are probably the only example of romance that future generations of girls are going to be able to experience.

Not that my post office man wanted to marry me or anything. He probably did just want to take a crowbar to my iron knickers but even so, he never stood a chance in Hell because that is no way to talk to a lady.

Keep up with The Obnoxious Owl’s weekly ‘Shooting from the Hip’ column here.