“You’ve never seen Ghost?”

I was appalled to find anyone of my age could have missed this 80s classic.

Not being overly-burdened with a heterosexual taste in films I am used to my friends shunning my attempts to make them watch RomComs and cartoon classics.

After I had waved away his many objections he sat down with a look of grim resignation as I pressed play.

I think he found it better than he expected, although he was clearly troubled by the idea that wet clay could be used as a sex aid.

He also pointed out an important difference between movie romance and real-life seduction.

At one point, a luscious Demi Moore reminisces how her beau – in his pre-supernatural days – had constantly pestered her for a date, finally breaking her resolve by endlessly singing outside her door.

If I asked a woman on a date and she said no, I would assume she wasn’t interested and move on, not ignore her answer and think of ways I could make a nuisance of myself.

In reality, Patrick Swayze’s character would have been hauled away by police.

I have seen numerous female friends greet the buzzing of their phone with an-eyes-to-heaven gesture as they note the call is from some desperate character.

These days, I imagine I am the giver rather than the receiver of unwanted attention but I would be mortified if I ever made some innocent hottie feel uncomfortable.

To this end, I often delete phone numbers of “nearly girlfriends” if a text message goes unanswered for a few hours.

However, in the days before my lifestyle ravaged my youthful looks, I remember the annoyance of somebody who just won’t leave you alone.

One particular incident still resonates in my mind.

I was about 18 and outside a friend’s flat cursing him for inviting me around at 10pm and having the temerity to be out or, as I suspected at the time, asleep on the sofa blissfully unaware of the trouble he was in.

I asked two passing girls around the same age for directions to the nearest telephone box, as these where the dark days before mobile phones.

Rather than point they insisted on showing me, while giggling girlishly.

I wasn’t sure how entertaining this call was going to be for them but I couldn’t think of a way of refusing.

They then insisted on following me back and quizzing me about my love life.

The funniest-looking one asked: “Are you single?”

I was about to say yes when I saw my error and instead created a wonderful, fictitious girlfriend as a line of defence – I named her Emily and still miss her.

However, that didn’t stop her inappropriate touching and requests for my phone number.

I decided to give her fake details but this is tricky as, if you blurt out the first six numbers in your head, she might remember a few of them and then ask you to repeat it to catch the last digits.

To avoid this potentially awkward moment I gave her a friend’s details, confidant that as nobody called Simon lived with him he would assume it was a wrong number.

My prudence paid off when just before she left she asked me for it again and with ease I happily gave a flawless recital.

You can imagine my surprise when the next day, and every day that week, I got a call from this girl.

It appears my friend is a budding Sherlock Holmes and doesn’t say: “Sorry, nobody called Simon lives here.”

No, he says: “Describe this Simon, I’ll see if I know anyone who matches that description.”

The problem is that, unlike women, who need to be able to bat away unwelcome admirers, men aren’t used to refusing so we fall back on deceit.

This was not as bad as a friend of mine who after twice being caught out lying about his address claimed his mum had witnessed a murder and he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone where he lived.