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10-Aug-2017 02:34

This is how I find myself waiting for "Sophia Loren".

She seems rather on edge and sends me a text message at the time we're due to meet asking why I'm using the website.

In order to fit in with the general ethos of the website I have invented a wife.

Our relationship, I note, has suffered because we don't spend enough time together (not surprising really, since she doesn't exist).

I register, and enter the murky world of two-timing technology, taking note of the warning on the site: "Not all affairs have a positive effect on a marriage." What a masterpiece of understatement.

I wonder if anyone has ever read this, seen the wisdom of it and decided not to join. "I'm witty, charming, handsome and modest, and I'm kind to animals," I write, hoping this description will have a fairly broad appeal, and also include a recent photograph.

Postings such as: "I want a man who can look after me and knows how to treat a woman. I'm surprised and unsettled by the forward tone of some of the material. Determined to avoid the connotations, I reply: "The Beatles." I never hear from her again.

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Reading it on my laptop in the aptly named Cafe Affaire in central London, I consider what she really wants: a no-strings-attached sexual relationship.Your picture can be viewed only if you give a password to the person with whom you are conversing.The idea is presumably to safeguard people from searching for their own spouses on the site - though how a husband would explain to his errant wife how he came to stumble across her picture on a website for adulterers, I don't know.But if I'm going to find out what really makes these women tick, I need to leave the safety of the virtual world and see them for myself. I arrange to meet a 41-year-old mother of two who misses "romance and flirting", in a cafe in two days' time.

She has declined to tell me her name, so I have to think of her as her web sobriquet.

In the end, we agree to part and she wishes me luck and assures me I'll find the perfect paramour. This was like having a meeting with a new accountant with a helping of self-disgust thrown in.