I think I got chatted up recently. It hasn’t happened for so long that I wasn’t sure what was happening and I didn’t know how to react. I’d managed to meet up with a friend to have dinner in Manchester on a Saturday evening. She was visiting from Italy and was treated to the full authentic Mancunian experience of pouring rain, a lot of dodgy fake tan, and some very revealing fashion choices . As we were walking to the restaurant, we got stopped in the street by a man who asked me if I was ‘that famous actress off that TV show‘. I looked at him blankly and assured him I was not. He then said I was ‘striking‘ and was ‘very beautiful‘. The poor man must be blind I thought as I hastily thanked him before hurriedly continuing on our rain-sodden route.

‘You should have said you were that famous actress and that you didn’t want to be outed.’ Said my friend as we entered the restaurant.

‘Oh that would have been perfect!’ I said as I shook and closed my umbrella.

Later that night , on the train home, as I was watching the drunk revellers loudly arguing and laughing, I thought about that fleeting interaction. I remembered my nights out in London and all the dates I had been on when I had control over my life. Granted, my dating life has never been successful. My friends know I have been on a date with every dickhead in London and have laughed at my many dating disasters (maybe that’s another blog series?! I’m told I have very good stories). As I look at my life now, at 35, dating is a distant memory. I have given up on that part of my life. I’m not exactly attractive dating material, I live in a small village with a 98 year old who depends on me for practically everything, I work all the time, and barely have time to eat, let alone go out. I’m not sure I’d even know what to say on a date anymore. I used to have an excellent first date repertoire, but now I’d have no idea how to answer the basic dating questions like:

‘What do you do when you’re not working?‘ (I go hiking in the rain on the moors on my own on weekend mornings.)

‘What’s your dream in life?’ (No idea, I’m too tired and depressed to think about that.)

‘What are you currently binge watching?‘ (Nothing. But I do fall asleep to very interesting sounding documentaries.)

To recap, I’m 35, live with and care for my grandmother, I have a big job so I have almost no free time, and I don’t drink. Sexy. And that last non-drinking part is the biggest red flag for British men, in my experience, even if they could get over my current living situation.

My very single status isn’t something I think about much, until I hear of one of my friend’s updates in the love department. I’m happy for them, but it makes me sad that I’m chronically on my own… not that I miss my terrible dates; like the time I had to sit through a drink with some guy who thought he was psychic and could read minds but somehow missed the massive lie I told to get out of there when he asked if I wanted another diet coke. The girls in the office got a kick out of that one on the following Monday morning.