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.
Later on I'm perplexed when she sends me two flirty text messages.
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.
Many of them are middle-class, many have young children.
And all of them are looking for an opportunity to betray their spouses. But I wanted to find out what sort of woman uses such a site.
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.
She has declined to tell me her name, so I have to think of her as her web sobriquet.
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.
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.
I reply, telling her to come over and ask me face to face. She looks furtively around and asks me if I'm nervous. There is tension in the air like North and South Korea coming together to hammer out a treaty.