One sunny morning, early last autumn, I did what I always do after school drop-off and took the puppy to the local dog park for her morning run. After the mad dash of children, an early morning that feels as though it might never end, of packed lunch boxes flying out of school bags, long curls being convinced into hair bands, reading records being filled out in the back of the car and voices raised over uneaten bran flakes, the dog walk is the pause I need before tackling the day ahead.

It was on this sun-filled autumn morning I began chatting to a group of women, as you do, when you walk around a park with a dog. After 20 minutes or so, the women and a couple of men, none of whom I’d ever met before, added me to a local WhatsApp dog walking group named “Walkies”. I’m not entirely sure when the dog walking group was formed, but as of today, there are 16 of us, with me being the latest recruit.

Only five members or so tend to turn up at one time, which is sweet relief, given 16 dogs and their middle-aged owners may dominate a park somewhat. Like a quintet rock band, we stride across the field in muddy boots covering all manner of subjects ranging from marriage to teens to parents to work to dogs and, for some of us, divorce and dating, too.

The Walkies WhatsApps begin flying in around 8.30am and even though I join the motley crew no more than twice a week, the gentle thrum buzzing in my pocket means there’s always somewhere to go and always someone to chat to when I get there. Last Saturday, on account of getting up too early and locating hidden iPads, by 8.30am, the kids were in meltdown. As was I. Knackered after a rough week of anxiety and not sleeping, I wanted to cry. My sky-high stress levels were not screen related, they were date related, making it all the more irksome. I shouldn’t be stressed about dates at this age, surely?

Usually a little quieter at the weekend, last Saturday, the Walkies pack leader sent out a WhatsApp message to say she was heading out. I glanced at my phone and bustled the kids into warm clothes. We all needed fresh air. The sleepless week and subsequent anxiety from lack of sleep had nothing to do with “him” per se, but the triggering of old fears, fears I assumed I had long since been put to bed. Apparently old ways of thinking never leave us, and we should remain forever vigilant and always on the look-out for red flags. We are a work in progress, after all.

“Love will happen when you least expect it,” they tell you, whoever “they” may be (Hallmark gift cards)? Except there’s no guide advising you what to do when an old school friend messages on social media to tell you they’ve “always fancied you”. “I know that name,” I thought, as I flicked open Instagram. Divorced, no kids, two dogs, I accepted my old school friend’s request, intrigued at what had brought him to my inbox in January, a new year about which I felt so positive. We chatted online, phone numbers were swapped, and, after a phone call, he asked me out for dinner. He booked a restaurant I’d never heard of by the river Thames. Old fashioned but delightful. We sat side by side cramped up together on a bench.

I wasn’t entirely convinced I even fancied him, especially when he planted a dry, stiff-lipped kiss rather unexpectantly on my lips as I attempted to order a drink. Between talking about himself non-stop, he threw the occasional compliment my way and as pathetic as it sounds, I was just happy to be on a date with someone who had something to say. Not one pause, he barely drew breath – or asked many questions – but still, not having to perform and exhaust myself, which is how I often feel on a date, allowed me to relax into the evening. The following day, he continued to message, and even though I’ve been love-bombed several times since becoming single in my late 40s, I failed to see the signs, the red flags remained elusive, no flutter of crimson in the breeze.

Within 48 hours of dinner, the dinner I hadn’t particularly wanted to go to, he fell silent as if he’d never reappeared in my life in the first place. At first, I felt confused. Was he OK? Had something awful happened? Had one of his dogs died? As the days passed with no word, I couldn’t fall asleep. For someone who sleeps like the heaviest of logs felled in the deepest forest, it was terrifying. “Are you OK?” I eventually messaged. “Yes, just busy,” came his short reply. Busy, I thought? He wasn’t too busy to stalk me on social media, get my number, convince me to go to dinner and plant a kiss on my mouth. Sadness gave way to anger which gave way to hurt, which eventually gave way to something indescribable that left a dint in my sense of self-esteem. Now I just feel a bit stupid for being taken in by a fantasist. Perhaps I wasn’t the fantasy he imagined? Ouch, there goes my pride.

Once the storm of feelings had passed, I reflected on the emotional tsunami and how it had impacted my anxiety levels. Nothing to do with him because, honestly, his stories were fun, but when you’re not asked a single question, one-way conversation soon begins to feel draining. Abandoned by his silence and unavailability, old thoughts of not feeling good enough came rolling in as my self-worth was blown away like autumn leaves in the breeze. My branches were bare, leaving me sleepless and vulnerable.

“Odd how someone you don’t even fancy can do that to you,” I told the Walkies crew that Saturday morning. “Oh, come here”, said pack leader, gathering me up in the warmth of her smile and padded coat. “I think he just liked the idea of me,” I said, an unexpected tear plopping down my cheek like a fat drop of rain. A member of Walkies removed a brownie from a scrunched-up piece of kitchen roll so I could dry my face. That’s when I glanced down to see my dog being dry humped by a Jack Russell. “Oh, don’t worry about him”, a Walkie called from behind, “he’s a lot like your date, hasn’t had any balls for years!” The Walkies crew erupted; the dark cloud passed; the warmth of laughter made the sky seem brighter. That night sleep fell over me like a thick fog. Out like a light. For 12 hours straight.

Looking to meet your match? Visit Telegraph Dating – with over 220,000 like-minded members, it quick, easy and FREE to join.