I did it my way

It is said that, sometimes, a still tongue keeps a wise head. So – and some might say about time – perhaps I am getting a little wiser.

The only woman I have ‘pulled’ since I have been writing this blog found out the address and read the entries about herself. She was, understandably, upset by what I wrote. This in turn upset me because it is not my intention to hurt anyone. My disappointment was matched by my anger that someone I regarded as a friend had told her where to look. I’m not sure what they hoped this would achieve.

This event has made me question why I started this blog. The main reason was to entertain my friends and to save me having to bore them with the minutiae of my love (or, more accurately, the lack of it) life when we met up. I suppose it was also to unburden myself of the despair I feel on the subject. Reaching the age of 39 and having spent only 11 months in relationships (and wishing you were single for most of that time) creates insecurities that most people can’t even imagine. Lastly, I suppose that it might help me get more writing work, rather than spending my life correcting other people’s grammar.

Maybe I was conceited to think that anyone would be interested in reading about me. Most of my friends have only a very superficial interest in my life (which is why I thought that this blog might appeal to them). I spent eight weeks in China and Indochina this summer – and most people didn’t even enquire as to whether I’d had a nice time (and only one person asked me more than a single question). So asking them to bother accessing a blog was always going to be a big ask.

But even given this state of affairs, the lack of support has been demoralising. People say that they love reading my musings, but when I ask them why they never leave a comment, they say they can’t be bothered to register (I set up a fake username myself – it took 60 seconds). Quiz them as to when they last logged on, and the stock answer is ‘a few weeks ago’, despite the fact that they spend 40 hours a week at their computer screen, and could surely spend a few minutes reading my blog. Some even ask me to remind them of the address. If only someone at Google or Microsoft could devise a way of bookmarking websites that you visit regularly.

Conversely, while friends have shown little interest (Debbie and Sooty excused), the blog has, anecdotally at least, found a reasonable readership among friends of friends. Perhaps people who don’t know me can just enjoy it for its entertainment value, while friends are uncomfortable with my despondency.

And that despair is in danger of spiralling out of control. I feel that I’m living my life to a Joe Jackson song – ‘is she really going out with him?’ Everywhere I go, I see attractive and vivacious women with average-looking, unexceptional men. Even my mum has taken to pointing out such ‘odd couples’ when we’re out together. It makes me more despondent when I think about the handful of single men whom I know. It is patently obvious why every one of them is single – two are in their mid-40s and still live with their parents – and most of them have given up hope. Is that how people regard me?

Two close female friends (one in a long-term relationship, the other long-term single) recently told me that a sense of humour is the most important quality that a man can possess. I did one of those subtle coughs to suggest that I fitted the bill (my ex-girlfriend said that I had made her laugh so often, that if we were together for six months, she would be incontinent), but neither took the hint.

Writing this blog used to be enjoyable. Now it just reminds me how lonely I am. A rare wink that I received on Match.com last week was the final nail in the coffin. The sender was a woman in a shockingly old-fashioned floral dress, whose profile headline read 'haven't got any' (answers on a postcard). Her one-sentence answers revealed that her only interest is 'eating in Pizza Hut' and that she lives with her mum (not really something to shout about at the age of 35) and has 'lots off friends'. She was also the owner of the first profile that I have ever read in which the subject describes their daily diet as 'fast food'.

I know that I’m fussy, but I’ve not waited this long to compromise to such an extent. Ideally, I’m looking for a 5ft 2ins Sagittarian in her early-30s with short hair and curves, who is university educated and has her foot on the property ladder, is well travelled, doesn’t look as if Stevie Wonder is her fashion advisor and knows what the inside of a gym looks like. But in reality, someone who is a decent person and is up for a bit of banter is all it takes to spark my interest. Tandy, whom I met in Vietnam, for example, ticked very few of the aforementioned boxes, but I really enjoyed her company and felt that there was a lot of chemistry. True to form though, she blanked me when I told her how I felt.

As I hurtle towards 40 (a landmark that I am dreading), I’m going to have to hold my hands up and admit defeat. Despite having had many very close female friends over the past 15 years, whatever it is that women are looking for in a boyfriend (and it isn’t just a sense of humour), I haven’t got it. It’s time to mothball this site, accept that the only two women in my life will remain my mum and my niece, and to channel my energies into areas of my life that don’t make me so miserable. It’s been fun.