I do so love a man with green fingers.

I am not referring to his having stained or dirty digits. If there’s one thing that turns me off, it’s a man with dirty hands. No such man is going to get to explore the inside of me, no matter how horny I might be; if a guy can’t even ensure that his nails and fingers are clean, it doesn’t really bode well for the state of his cock-hygiene. Presentation is everything you see: stinky fingers equal a smelly cock, and us ladies do so love a man who keeps his head clean.

I digress. Green fingers: I love a man who can look after plants (otherwise known as the things with leaves that grow in soil); it makes me go all quivery inside when faced with a man that knows the difference between a Dracena and a Cordyline, rather than just the Labia Minora and Perineum.

I think it all started some years ago when I had a fling with a guy who loved plants. The first time we went back to my flat, I deposited him in my lounge while I went to fix drinks, and returned to find him caressing my Schefflera.

‘Ohh’ he said, stroking the leaves gently, ‘that’s a fine looking plant there, how old is it?’

‘About five years I think’ I replied, watching him fingering its fronds.

‘It’s done well’ he said. ‘You’ve clearly taken care of it for it to have grown so big’.

I felt a surge of pride and a throb between my legs as I watched him touch the leaves of my plant as if he were caressing me. His fingers seemed so light and so careful; it made me think they would feel just as gentle inside of me. And later, when I got him into my bed, I discovered I wasn’t wrong.

But it wasn’t just how he touched the plants that stirred my depths. When we went back to his place a week later, I saw that it was completely filled with plants; each one brimming with life and good health and it made me realise that a man who could look after plants so well would have to be a caring, sensitive person. To take so much care and attention over a living thing showed an ability to think outside of his own needs. Ergo, he wasn’t selfish. Thus he would be good in bed (and possibly be Potential Boyfriend Material too).

He was lovely - my green fingered, good-at-fingering man - but it didn’t work out. However, discovering his love of plants helped make me view them - and men - very differently: I came to understand that to be able to nurture something so carefully was a skill to be constantly learned and improved on, and developed over time, and that humans, like plants, need the tender touch.

So when I first visited my ex SP’s house a couple of years ago, I was very excited to find he had a whole garden of beautifully maintained plants, each one lovingly placed in the ground by him. My theory about being him being caring and sensitive because of his plant-love was spot-on. Especially when it came to giving me orgasms with those same deft green fingers.

But it also didn’t work out. Ironically, I suspected things were going badly after I bought him a new house plant. When I next visited, a couple of weeks after giving it to him, it was completely dead: he hadn’t looked after it at all.

At the time, I remember feeling sorry for the plant, that his neglect had made it suffer. It was only some months later – when my eyes were sore from continually crying about our break-up – that I realised how meaningful it was that he had left it to die, and that it was an apt analogy for the state of our relationship.

So I don’t necessarily think that having green fingers means a guaranteed ability to be good in bed or to have a meaningful relationship, but I would bet that it is a good measure to judge the former by. In my mind, a man that is able to enjoy the process of something (other than his cock) growing, is also likely to be the sort of man who appreciates the sexual journey, rather than just the destination; a man who gets off on pleasuring a woman regardless of his achieving orgasm.

And given the amount of men I have fucked, who are - quite clearly - only interested in their own climax (the female orgasm seemingly being an obstacle preventing them reaching it as fast as they would like), I would suggest that taking some time to be a bit more sensual and learning to enjoy the process, rather than just the result it brings, would be beneficial to all.

So to those who worry about their skills in bed, my advice would be to go and fondle a houseplant - it might just make you a better lover.