Jana Hocking: 'Dread' after being pictured with well-known former footy player

'What started as a Friday night drink somehow turned into a front-page story'. Photo / Instagram

Well ... Unless you've been happily enjoying a very extended long weekend away from any form of media, you may have seen I popped up in the press a little bit this week.

According to reports I had a dalliance with a well-known former footy player. Well, what started as a Friday night drink somehow turned into a front-page story.

How fabulous to find out that my life is far more exciting than I thought it was!

The two things I learned this week were:

1. I am a control freak. To have a story appear that you're not yet ready to talk about is super weird, and far outside the realms of my nice little controlled lifestyle.

2. A taste of fame is actually nowhere near as fun as it looks.

I like to think I'm fairly open when it comes to talking about my love life. Good lord, I've even shared the story about the time I broke into my ex's house to delete a cheeky nude from his phone. However, it came at a time when I was ready to talk about it. From my point of view. I had years to reflect and see the funny side of it.

So, imagine you find yourself in a bar having a jolly good time, when you meet someone with the same ridiculous sense of humour, lively spirit and good banter. You have a great time and then go on your merry way.

Then imagine waking up the next morning to emails, and then phone calls from a reporter begging to know what you got up to last night. They want to know whether you kissed the footy player, whether you went home with him and if you're planning on seeing them again.

Now full disclaimer here: I work in media, and I've been on the other side of those emails, chasing a story, a witness, anything that will give me a lead on the competition, so I get it.

However, being on the other end of it … well … it was a bit of a wake-up call.

It turned out that not only has someone from the restaurant I was at spoken to the media, but there are photos to match.

Cue instant dread. Am I going to look all Lindsay Lohan circa 2003 stumbling out of a bar?! I don't think I was drunk, but did they get me from an unflattering angle? I've been snapped with a 198cm bloke, is my 161cm existence going to look ridiculous?

The dating columnist faced backlash after hooking up with an infamous NRL player. Photo / Instagram

And most importantly … why the heck did I choose to wear sneakers that night?! Fashion, Jana. Look it up. (For future reference kindly take the pics from up high, far more flattering, and be a doll and pop on a nice filter for me.)

So, I did what any normal person would do when faced with some upcoming public humiliation … I went into deep denial, took myself off to lunch with the girls and then popped half a sleeping pill before bed so I wouldn't stay up tossing and turning over something that was out of my control.

The next morning I braced myself for what was to come and then had the biggest sigh of relief when I popped open the laptop and discovered the pictures actually weren't that bad. And I quietly tapped myself a little on the back for flirting with a bloke who, according to these pictures, is pretty darn va va voom!

What followed was two days of coverage, because I decided to kiss a bloke. Hey, if you've ever read anything I've written, it does indeed seem on brand. No surprises there.

Either way, I found him delightful and for one brief moment it was the lovely attention I needed. (So stop spamming me with social media messages full of "advice" and opinions. His business is none of my business and nor should it be yours).

So to the Jackie Os, Angie Kents, Sophie Monks and numerous other women who have had to venture out into the single scene so publicly, having to make sure there are no cameras around while you go for that exciting first kiss after a chardonnay or two, I salute you!

Because for one hot second I had a sense of what it would be like, and while it looks glamorous and fun, it sure isn't a walk in the park.