When you’ve been single for a while (ok, a long time) after a while you start to think that maybe, just maybe, it could be that the problem is you. Perhaps being too chatty on dates, or too quiet, wearing the wrong outfit, being too loud, not really giving someone a chance, not really listening, you can focus on any number of things but then I think back to some of the dates I’ve been on.
To the guys who can’t decide where to meet (most of them) let me tell you that a woman wants a man to take charge so it’s a bit of a turn off when I’m making all the arrangements for a first date.
To the guys who would rather I went to meet them at their local pub on a first date because they get a nosebleed if they go out of their comfort zone, let me tell you that already, you’re not making me feel that I’m worth the effort.
To the homophobic, ignorant, vile narrow minded guys who say they don’t understand how I could live with a gay man, and I probably won’t find anyone because of it, there are no words.
To the guys who say I would have been perfect if I was three inches taller/blonde hair/thinner/younger I say have you looked in a mirror lately because that moisturiser isn’t working.
To the guys who assume that there will be sex on the first date so you’ve booked a hotel room, you’ll never know how good it could have been.
To the guys who’ve apparently got in a relationship in the two days between organising a date with me and meeting up, I hope she’s got a couple of kids you didn’t know about.
To the guys who post the (only) picture on their profile that’s a few years old, please don’t. There’s not always a first aider around when we meet and I nearly die from shock when I see that you’ve lost all your hair and are three stone heavier.
To the guys who seem up for a laugh and then turn into a grumpy old man who complains about everything from the price of the parking to the price of a coffee on a date, let me tell you, it makes you unattractive.
To the guys who say they’re not really looking for someone then text/message every other minute asking how you are, what are you doing, when are you seeing them again, sort your head out.
To all the young guys who ask do I have a problem with the age gap? The answer is yes, please don’t be offended but I’ve probably got tights older than you.
To all the guys who’ve shown me pics and videos on our date of their now deceased partner, or new car, golf clubs, and even grandkids, it was probably my yawning that put you off.
And to the guy who forgot my name on a date on national television. Well, we all know the answer to that one.
So after careful consideration and realising that not every one is on the same page, I’ve come to a conclusion.
It’s not me, it’s you.