All the good men over 35 are taken…I'm left with the dregs, says model who has been on 500 dates in 4 years
EARLIER this month I opened the door to a bouquet of flowers.
They were from yet another man who wants to date me. He’s 35, tall, dark and handsome.
Yet, as experience dictates, I knew there’d be a catch.
After a few messages, he disappeared.
And this week, as the gifts roll in from admirers for Valentine’s Day — I have already received two — I know not to get my hopes up either.
I am 38 and have been single for four years.
And I hate to break it to any other single women in their late thirties, but all the decent men in our age bracket have been taken.
And sadly, the older silver foxes enjoy being single and have no intention of settling down, and the younger blokes are only into booty calls.
So back to men my own age. While I work out every day, these men look a decade older.
Beer bellies, bad manners, little respect for single women and minimal hygiene — I’ve seen it all on the apps.
Over the past four years I’ve been on almost 500 dates trying to find Mr Right.
‘I’ve clung on to the idea of falling in love’
And while I have become something of an expert on dating apps — last year I got a congratulations from Tinder for getting 25,000 likes for my profile — unfortunately, I am still looking for The One.
My theory is all the good men were snapped up when they were young. All that’s left is the dregs.
I was 18 when I had my first serious boyfriend.
We were together for five years. We shared a house and were in love, but we met too young. We grew apart.
Later, I had another long-term relationship, for seven years. We also lived together. While we never talked about marriage, it was on the cards. But it didn’t work out and our split was messy.
Suddenly, in my early thirties, I was dropped into the dating world.
At times it has felt like I am the last single person in London. Even so, I have clung on to the idea of falling in love with someone my age.
I carefully worded my dating profiles so as not to attract the wrong type of man, and I used my professional pictures.
I’m a model and I wanted to sieve out the men who found that intimidating. But I haven’t been all that successful.
During my 500 dates, the only guy I have seriously dated was my age and had the best hair and teeth in the world.
He even had a “proper” job and took me out for fancy dinners. Alas, he wasn’t ready to settle down — or something like that.
Apart from that, there was the guy who looked like Superman on his dating profile but turned up with a long white Santa beard. His body had gone to pot and he was wearing unwashed clothes.
Then there was the wealthy consultant who took me to his club where cocktails were thirty quid a pop. He was generous but knew the value of nothing. Plus, he continually scoffed salt and vinegar nuts on our date — the odour was revolting.
I went out with a psychologist. But every text I wrote to him I’d get one back analysing what I’d said. I’d ignore 90 per cent of them. After our second date he asked me to go back to his and when I said no, I got a long message at 2am telling me what I’d done wrong and that I wasn’t giving “us” a chance.
He was a nice guy but clearly wanted marriage after two encounters. I knew my postman better than I knew him. I get it, though — the dating pool for my age of hot, smart individuals is tiny. Nowadays, I only need to glance at a profile and know whether it’s worth me responding.
I have lost count of the number of men who use pictures that are a decade old. Do they not realise I will clock that the hot young thing I’d been messaging is not the bloke sat opposite me? Now I can tell if a photo is ancient.
Then there are the beer bellies. If a man has one, I know we’ll have nothing in common as I’m active and don’t do takeaways. If the profile is full of photos cropped in around the face, it’s a huge giveaway.
Profiles without any text tell me a man is lazy, superficial and not looking for a genuine connection.
Then there are the guys who include a picture of them with their ex-girlfriends. Why would you do that?
The harsh reality is there’s a vast difference between how these men present themselves online and how they are in real life.
I know my Mr Right is out there . . . and when the time is right we will meet.
That’s why this Valentine’s Day the only male I’m sharing my bed with is my sweetheart House, my Jack Russell-cross.
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