Chronicles of a Serial Dater

Introduction

‘When I grow up I’m going to marry a prince, Granny.’

Fast forward 27 years.  I’m a hot, successful, kind and affectionate, officially ‘grown up’ girl-about-town.  Still in search of The One.  It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in bed.  Alone.  Tanked up on Valium.  The quest has been active now for the best part of 20 years.  I know he’s out there.  I just need to find out where and how to find him.  Things have got to change.

I can’t begin to think about how many dates I have been on during the search.  It must be near the thousand mark.  I spent my 20s partying so swept up by numerous whirlwind romances that lasted, ooh, at least the whole weekend.  Now the come down has lifted I feel fantastic but looking around see most of my friends have paired up.  Many with each other.  I work in PR and eligible bachelors are low on the ground.  They are mostly either married or gay.  It’s not a good idea to get involved with colleagues anyway.  The last thing you need at the end of a relationship is the stress of having to find a new job as well.  I am also wary of hooking up with friends of friends.  The three occasions I have done resulted in one night stands.  This has made various weddings and other social gatherings awkward.  Very occasionally traditional routes like meeting at evening classes or in bars have produced some potentials.  But, the best source these days for me seems to be the internet and the odd personal ad.

Although Granny has now left us her advice stays with me.

‘Darling, you don’t have to marry a prince.  Just a good man.’

But what exactly is ‘good’?  In her book it was probably a hardworking Catholic religious teacher.  In mine someone who is easy-going, affectionate, clever and fun to meet, fall in love and live happily ever after-ish with would fit the bill nicely.  Well, that’s the official line.  In reality he must also be tall, rich, good in bed and have lovely teeth.  I never have any problem attracting them.  Thanks to good genes, a personal trainer and dermatologist, I look great.  I pass for nearer 25 than the 35 years I have really clocked up.  All in a glossy celebrity-ish way.  I’m an easy date too.  Not in a dropping knickers kind of way.  I’m fun and can happily chat to anyone about anything.  Just none of my dates have converted yet.

I have delighted and appalled friends and family, in equal measure, with reports of my antics along the way.  Encouraged from time to time to devise some kind of dating handbook from what I have learnt.  Until I find (and keep) my Mr Right I don’t think I have the necessary credentials to get cracking on it just yet.

I am aware my quest may come across as borderline obsession.  In the most part it has been great fun.  I promise. And has resulted in the odd relationship (and broken heart) or two.  Instead, I have decided to document my experiences to amuse more than anything else.  I have a fairly active professional and social life so will just stick to writing about my dating life for the chronicles.  If that is OK.  In so doing, the creative process may provide some kind of personal enlightenment and help face my demons too.  And who knows.  The journey may lead me to my prince.

2009 is going to be my year.  I just know it.  And where the chronicles begin.