I feel sorry for her husband, presumably unaware that the mother of his children is pursuing cheap thrills with strangers.
By now, I have been contacted by scores of women, so I arrange dates with the ones who are prepared to meet me in the next few days. Blonde, slim and relaxed, she has already told me by email that she's been married for ten years, has young children, time on her hands and wants to add a frisson of excitement to her life.
After a quick search, I get the measure of the women on the site.
"My preference is for a man who is much younger than me with rugged features," says one. This is a way of paying someone a compliment without typing out the words. And over the course of a week I get almost 100 replies, messages and propositions.
This is how I find myself waiting for "Sophia Loren".
Our relationship, I note, has suffered because we don't spend enough time together (not surprising really, since she doesn't exist).
Her photograph reveals that the hour has stretched to 90 minutes.
I'm already starting to feel like I've had enough of this experiment.
Reading between the lines, I suspect she wants to meet again.
Sadly, I feel I have got all I want out of our brief relationship - two cups of coffee and a short conversation - and it's time to move on and find someone new.