Loves and Life of a London girl speaks......

I recently shared the stage with Comedian Richard Herring and gossip blogger Perez Hilton, at the First Direct Festival to talk about my dating life! Thankfully I got a few laughs.......

TMI (too much information) syndrome

Sex with your ex girlfriends, how many notches you’ve got on your bed post and definitely your toilet troubles – they are all classic cases of too much information.

When we’re dating, or even in a relationship us girls can be a little inquisitive, okay just plain nosey. But sometimes you boys don’t know when to stop when you start revealing the ins and outs of your past behaviour, or even current behaviour when we’re not around.We may ask about your previous sex life and you may have visited strip clubs, dated underwear models or dipped your toe in the threesome dating pool but we really don’t want to know about it – however much we quiz you.

Like the saying goes - what we don’t know won’t hurt us. Not that I’m giving you a free pass to go all John Terry or Ashley Cole on us but when it comes to your past sex life it’s usually best left in the cupboard marked ‘Do not open’. And if we do delve into it we usually regret what we find out. After lots of drunken questioning once I found out that a boyfriend had had a threesome with another guy –the other guy being his best friend. It was a classic mistake of too much information and one which made me not able to even look in the direction of his best friend again without a weird image in my head.

Sadly it didn’t stop there either – I’ve had guys I’ve dated revealing sex positions their exes have preferred, how good a one night stand was and how many women they’ve managed to seduce into their bed.

And a couple of mentions about an ex girlfriend is fine, but when you start delving into your past relationships like we’re your therapist - along the lines of ‘I just don’t know where it all went wrong…’ we’re going to start worrying if you’re with the right person. And the more you moan and slag off an ex girlfriend the more we’re going to wonder how much of a decent person you are – if you can slag her off and make her sound like the bitch from hell then what will you be saying about us in six months time?

But it’s not just your sex lives where you’re revealing things that make us want to cringe. After a series of emails on a dating website recently I got a bit more than I bargained for in one email. Things were going swimmingly – the emails were funny, we were getting on famously and then he just had to delve into an area which us girls just don’t want to talk about. I’d asked him if he’d felt hung over from his previous nights antics but wasn’t quite prepared for his reply of: “I’m not actually feeling too bad, but my bottom feels like its been blown off after the curry I had last night,” – eek!!! We hadn’t even shared our first date but already I was getting a play by play account of his daily toilet habits – nice.

And of course we trust you but when you mention boys and holidays in the same sentence then fear usually spreads through us like a wild fire in a forest. A few years back a former boyfriend couldn’t wait to go on a rugby tour he’d been planning with the boys. But instead of reassuring me that it was a chance to spend some quality time with his males mates and enjoy the sport he loved so much he stupidly revealed the motto which all the boys were standing by – ‘What goes on tour stays on tour’ – how could any sane girl not jump to ‘stripper, bed hopping and one night stand’ conclusions?

So when I met Mr TMI recently I knew it wasn’t going to work out. After he had revealed the amount of girls he’d slept with, how he was up to his eye balls in debt, how he hated his job and the icing on top of the TMI cake – his big ambition to marry a stripper in Vegas one day, I decided that however honest a potential date could be, a little bit of discretion is always a good quality to seek out.

And if you still don’t quite get it – then let me turn the tables on you. If you found out your dream girl had more notches on her bed post than you’d had hot dinners would you still want to take her home to meet the parents? Nope, thought not.

So the next time we ask you how many girls you’ve slept with, if the stripper you were forced to watch on a stag do was hotter than us or if you’ve ever dreamt about that really hot women next door, either keeping tight lipped or bending the truth a little would be a good option. Because after all, what we really want to know is none of that, in any way, compares to dating us….

The secrets of dating…

If we were all given a manual on how to date, have a relationship and live happily ever after with our true love - wouldn’t life be great.

Or would it? Isn’t half the fun of dating making a few mistakes here and there, meeting a few wrong-uns and tasting a bit of bad dating, so when Mr Right does comes along we appreciate it and realise what we do and don’t want.

So when something or someone alleges to know what ‘men want’ out of a relationship I become a little cynical. And that certain someone came in the form of a dating coach (think Hitch) last week, when he huddled at least fifty women into a room and claimed he was going to give us the secrets of ‘finding the guy’, ‘getting the guy’ and ‘keeping the guy.’

So of course we all waited with bated breath, on the edges of our seats and pens poised ready to unearth the shattering truth about what men want out of us women. And as he trawled through stories of him skydiving, women who had everything but the man and his own personal dating successes (yep he talked a lot about himself!) the realization that most of it was about common sense and confidence made us feel a little disheartened.

Why? Because we felt that there was going to be that one secret which would bag us a boyfriend at the click of our fingers. We thought we’d find that special ingredient which would make any guy fall in love with us and keep him wanting us forever. But in truth it’s all about going out into the big bad world of dating - having a few tales to tell about our dating disasters and having enough confidence to go back out there and put what we’ve learnt to good use.

When I first started dating – about ten years ago, I thought it was perfectly fine to ditch my mates for a man, become all needy when he didn’t want me and cry whenever he so much as raised his voice in my direction. At nearly 28 I only occasionally ditch my mates for a man (ahem…), never become needy unless my cat ignores me and only ever shed a tear when it’s the sad part in a movie or he decides to dump me in horrible circumstances (i.e – ever!!).

And how can we create a set of rules when everyone is so different? The playing hard to get thing may work on one guy while another may take it as a sign you’re not that into them. And while mister serial texter doesn’t mind you cramming up his inbox with sweet messages mister technophobe may wonder why you’re bugging him every hour with updates about your daily routine.

None of us are born with the ability to date well or form the perfect relationships - like anything it comes with time and experience. We’re all going to kick ourselves when we realize that sweet guy was in fact the biggest player and the ‘nice guy’ we were dating was more like a brother than ‘husband material’ – but hey, at least if you’ve been there you hopefully won’t go back for seconds.

So once we’ve experienced the highs and lows of dating it all boils down to common sense and confidence. And we just have to hope that it doesn’t all go flying out of the window when we like someone. We’ve all made excuses for a date who turns up an hour late, one that never phones us, or a guy that just won’t commit. But it’s about having the confidence to remember what we want and how we should be treated. Because when a guy turns up that can be bothered it’s definitely worth waiting for.

So shhhh.....don’t tell everyone, but I think the real secret to dating is to keep at it. You may pick up a bit of good advice from the occasional dating book or a so-called dating coach, who thinks he knows the secrets of 'getting the guy', but isn’t learning through your own mistakes much more fun? Allow yourself to trip up occasionally, then pick yourself up and arrange that next date - after all, like me, you’ve probably been through the worst that can happen already.

Does date number 2 mean forever?

Once you get past date number one that’s when you start to freak out a bit. When you’ve been single for a while you start embracing it – going out when you want, dating three guys in one week (okay maybe that’s just me!) and having Sex and the City on constant replay. In fact, when you’re single you can get away with doing what ever the hell you want, whenever you want, without the fear of upsetting the other half!

So when you agree to date number two you’re in that ‘slightly unnerving’ territory. You’ve decided not to follow your normal protocol of ignoring their texts/emails/phone calls until they get the message that ‘you’re just not that into them’ and instead you’re wondering if they could in fact be ‘the one’.

Date number two either says, ‘yeah I like you, lets see where it goes’ or ‘I wanna have your babies’ (Natasha Bedingfield style!) depending of course on how long you’ve been single for and how much you like them.

So, should we be embracing date numero deux or running for the hills?

I’d be lying if I didn’t say anything beyond date number one scares the c**p out of me. In relationship terms date number two shows signs of commitment or endurance - heck you may as well be agreeing to marry them! After date number one and beyond you can no longer perform a disappearing act on them that any worthy illusionist would be proud of, and neither can you ‘pretend’ to have lost their phone number.

When you get into date number two, three and beyond territory it all just becomes a bit more serious. And as a friend has kindly pointed out - more than one date and you have to officially give them a reason for breaking up.

So will it be harder to go your separate ways if after date number four you decide that, actually, you hate the way he coughs. Mr Date number four would demand a reason why. Can you reveal that his slightly girly splutter drives you round the bend? Or is it just best to bring out those pathetic excuses exes have used on you in the past, which range from the slightly cheesy – “it’s not you, its me” to the downright pathetic ‘I have no balls’ spiel – “I think the spark’s gone.”

Of course it’s fine when you both know that date number two doesn’t mean anything. On a recent second date we both knew it wasn’t going to end in marriage and 2.4 children – mainly due to me declaring that I had two other dates lined up that week and him boasting about his plans to marry a stripper in Vegas. A fun night was had by all and we both went out separate ways knowing that a relationship wasn’t on the cards – but second dates don’t always end up this way!

For the last few months I have tried to avoid second dates like the plague. ‘He wasn’t my type’, ‘he lived too far away’ and ‘there was no chemistry’ were just some of the excuses I used when friends asked if date number two was on the horizon. Even though I was dating I knew it was just a bit of fun rather than a life long commitment.

And of course it all boils down to if you’re really ready for a new relationship? Do you (and of course I’m talking about myself here) really want to get into all that mushy, lovey dovey complicated stuff that you’ve been avoiding for the last god knows how long?

And what does a second date mean for him? Are we just second date fun or potential wife material?

Can you just enjoy someone company without thinking long term? Or before you know it are you meeting their friends, family and being classed as a ‘cute couple’ with people dropping marriage and kids into the conversation.

Going from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’ - (and that’s just on facebook!) is a BIG deal! Nearly as life changing as being dumped - so of course we’re going to be a teeny tiny bit freaked out at the prospect of it!

Being in a relationship changes your life dramatically – so I suppose it poses the question: Am I really ready to give up the single life just yet and jump into the uncertain world of dates two, three and beyond?

“But…what about the water jug moment?!”

Being the grand old age of 27 I would like to say that I’ve figured men out. But of course I haven’t and probably never will.

What I think I can safely say is that they are creatures very unlike us. They think differently, act differently and of course date differently.

Talking to male friends they usually say exactly the same about us, “Just when I feel like I have them sussed – they go and do something which completely confuses the hell out of me,” one poor soul complained to me recently.

I had, up until now, had quite a smooth ride when it came to dating and men. But it seems I had been living in dating fairyland – where men called me if they liked me, guys who had girlfriends didn’t flirt and attempt to date me and game playing was something which had existed at school, not in the confines of my dating sphere.

Since the start of my newly single life I have encountered not so much a fairytale, more of a disaster movie of potential suitors.

My latest possibility seemed great on the surface but to quote Katy Perry: “You’re hot and you’re cold, you’re up and you’re down….” if this song wasn’t written about him then I’d be gob smacked.

Even the stupidest dating books have got it right when they say if he’s not communicating with you – then he’s just not into you. Those rules were completely blown out of the window with Mr ‘Indecisive’ – one minute he was hoping I wasn’t dating other guys, the next he had disappeared off the face of the planet, and then he resurfaces and ‘can’t wait to see me again’.

Dating can always be a bit hit and miss - 'do they like me? Should I call them? Why haven’t they text me back?' But when game playing or just plain arrogance is mixed into the equation it can just get messy. So sorry, but mixed signals confuse me – if you like me - date me, if you don’t then STOP calling me!

And it’s not just dating where men and women get their wires crossed. Even when we’re in a relationship we still come across the what ifs, mixed signals and conclusion jumping – that our men just don’t get.

A close friend of mine wants marriage, kids, the whole works. And she wants it with her current boyfriend. Being a man, of course, he doesn’t know what he wants. So like most girls any signal towards a potential future with him is not taken lightly.

She recently recalled a conversation about a water jug with him. “Do we really need two water jugs? We have no need for them,” he said. She agreed but then he went on to say, “but I suppose if we get a bigger place we might need two.”

Her heart nearly stopped – what did he mean by that? Was he thinking about their future? Was he proposing? Should she start thinking about baby names? And the list goes on…..

But her ‘water jug’ moment is not uncommon. Because when we like someone we women see the little things as potentially life changing moments.

If a man introduces us to his family we assume he thinks we’re a keeper, if he tells us to leave our toothbrush at his we think he’s planning a joint mortgage and if he so much as talks about the colour white and churches in the same sentence we’re hoping he’ll get down on one knee any day.

So if he dumps us two weeks after meeting his family, a mortgage agreement fails to materialise and the word marriage doesn’t even exist in his vocabulary we wonder where it all went wrong.

Of course the water jug moment won’t be remembered by my friend’s boyfriend. If she started casually looking for ‘family sized houses’ he would get all hot under the collar and wonder why she was jumping to ‘further commitment’ conclusions. “But what about the water jugs?” she would proclaim, and he would wonder what the hell in gods name she was talking about.

I suppose if men and women were the same it would be a very boring existence. If men ‘got’ everything we said or did then we’d be at a loss. And most importantly - what would we have to moan about over a cocktail or two??

My ‘Bridget Jones’ existence

After a particularly bad speed dating incident with a friend of mine, I left feeling fairly deflated and through the (obviously one too many!) wine I wailed at the top of my voice ‘Oh my god I’ll never find the one’. My friend reminded me that I had only in fact been single for two months and if anything it was her turn next to find a possible Mr Right. So maybe I was over reacting, but why, when we get to a certain age, do we feel like the clock is ticking to find the one?

I keep trying to reassure myself that now is the time to concentrate on me, my career and anything else I have severely neglected over the past 10 years because men have got in the way, but somewhere in that stupid head of mine I seem to think that I need a man to make me happy.

And I know I’m not alone in my thinking - but why? Is it to prove to exes that we’ve moved on – like they have? And even if we do find someone else it’s not as though we’re going to appear at their front door with a speakerphone saying ‘ner, ner, ner ner, ner I’ve got a new boyfriend’, he’s cuter, smarter and nicer than you – so there!’ Then stamp on their foot and run away, because that would of course just be plain childish.

Or is it purely just to fit in with the status quo? When you’re nearing thirty you’ve surpassed those ‘lets have fun’ years and most of your friends are contemplating marriage and babies. Being the single one is like a zebra attempting to fit in with a herd of goats – the likelihood of standing out is quite probable.

Of course your now attached friends have all been there, worn the t-shirt and have felt like a spare part once in a while, but when I was newly single ALL my friends seemed to be happily, smoochly and deliriously in love. They dragged me out and promised that it wouldn’t be coupley, but of course I found myself speaking to a bunch of star crossed lovers by the end of the night - in fact I think I even heard the lonely chair next to me make a whimper or two.

And it’s not just my friends that I have to keep up with - as I stalk old university friends, school friends and work colleagues it dawns on me that half of them are now married, engaged or having sleepless nights because the little one has arrived. I even bumped into an old school friend the other day who said: ‘So have you had any kids or got married since I last saw you?’ – as I muttered under my breath that I was newly single she reeled off how she ‘can’t believe how quickly her young uns are growing up’. Her kids will probably be Mum’s before mine are even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye – that’s if I ever find him!

So did I miss the boat somewhere which was heading to grown up land? Or did I just fall off and wash up on single island? And if it’s as hard to escape from as the one on Lost I think I’m a bit screwed!

It’s not like I want any of that stuff yet. Having to look after a child scares the living daylights out of me, and how, when I feel like a teenager still can I possibly even fathom the thought of getting married? But when everyone else is doing it you sort of feel left out, it’s like being the only one who doesn’t go on that school trip – frankly it’s just not fair and you hate your parents for being so mean.

And yes now I mention them, parents don’t help keep the worrying at bay either. My Mum is quite frequently heard moaning, ‘When am I going to be a grandma god damn it?’ and conversations like how I should start considering freezing my eggs and which fascinator she’ll wear at my wedding aren’t a rarity.

I suppose it’s the whole ‘Bridget Jones generation’ – soon I’ll be singing at the top of my voice “all by myself, don’t wanna be all by myself anymore…” and accidentally making blue soup – but being single after a certain age is still frowned upon. It’s as though people think that to be whole you should be part of a pair and it’s probably drummed into us round about the same time we learn how to make a pineapple upside down cake and the ins and outs of algebra.

Maybe I’ll stop the clock for a while and just enjoy the view. After all I’ve got plenty of time to spend with the ‘one’ when I’m old and grey – maybe its just time to have some fun…… right?

How quick is too quick? Moving in and moving on…

A friend of mine recently told me how her and her boyfriend were moving in together after dating for barely more than a few months….I thought she was joking. But she was dead serious.

Had I missed something - was it a life or death situation? Or had I side-stepped that trend where couples decided to share bathrooms before they had even had their first kiss?

So how quick is too quick? ‘You just know when it’s right,’ my sister said, who has just happily started to co-habit with her boyfriend of a year and a half. ‘Whether it’s a right after a year or just a month after you first started dating, it’s different for everyone.’

But personally I don’t see what the rush is, unless you’re about to become homeless or you have your eyes on marriage in the foreseeable months then why the hell would you want to put up with a man in your space?

Maybe that’s a typical single girls reaction, but will a man ever let you fall asleep watching Sex and the City, appreciate your shoe/magazine/bag (delete as appropriate) collection or understand why you eat cold pizza, a handful of haribo or a mars bar for breakfast?

I suppose for a girl who was lucky to even get a share of her exes bed I may be slightly sceptical, but usually in my experience anything that is going too fast usually comes to a grinding halt before it reaches its destination.

And it’s not like I haven’t been there. When I was a naive 22-year-old I couldn’t wait to move in with my boyfriend – I was imagining sex on tap, romantic evening meals and cosying up in front of the telly. Instead I got ‘wait a minute, I’m just going to finish this level on the playstation’, arguments about the washing up and my two pet hates – cold tea bags in the sink (why couldn’t he put them in the bin??) and WET towels on the bed!

I quickly tired of his behaviour, which was frankly nothing like I had seen in the movies and moved out sharpish, and it left me with a bitter feeling that moving in with a boyfriend would mean goodbye to the happy, spontaneous relationship you once had and hello to being their mother, cook and cleaner all rolled into one.

And is moving on as easy to do as moving in with someone? My ex seems to think so. Two weeks after our break up he had declared his single status on facebook and deleted all existence of me, after a month he was happily flirting with members of the opposite sex, and two months later he was claiming, ever so loudly (are you sure New York heard you?) via his facebook status that he was in a new relationship.

Yes I know, it means I’m facebook stalking him (doesn’t everyone do it?) and I’m probably a hypocrite – after breaking up with my ex before my ex I was happily flirting with men just weeks after we broke up and my online dating profile wasn’t far behind that – but of course it’s different when its you.

So for how long should we be holding on to the past? I suppose if we’re still dreaming up scenarios of them begging for us back – 6 months, or even a year after they dumped us it’s maybe going to be a problem, and our friends will probably commit us to some sort of insane asylum if we keep dropping their name into ‘every’ conversation months after he’s said goodbye.

But when they’ve got rid of you it’s always harder, it’s that personal rejection. And when you see them happily skipping along with someone else the seething fangs, bulging eyes and feelings of jealousy, which you thought were safely hidden away, find their way back to the surface again – and there we are right back to square one.

I’m getting there. The ‘him wanting me back’ daydreams are closing in on less than one a week. His number has nearly vanished from my memory. And the facebook stalking…yeh that’s probably not going to stop - isn’t that what is was invented for?! But date number four is underway – he’s cute, not too tall and seems to have a good sense of humour and so…I can’t still be that hung up on Mr Perfect.

Can we really date Mr Perfect?

As he uttered the words, “I won £50,000 on a game show once,” my mouth fell open in utter amazement. Here I was standing with a guy, who not only had the guts to appear on a game show, but was intelligent enough to actually win thousands of pounds on it too.

And that was just the icing on the cake, for me it was like all my dreams had come true - because I was dating Mr Perfect.

We’ve all met Mr Perfect. He’s the one that girls flock around, even if they have a boyfriend. The guy who’s willing to do a sponsored run, in the rain or with a hangover, just so he can save the lives of thousands, and the guy that your family seems to like more than you.

And I had the pleasure of being the girlfriend of Mr Perfect, for six whole months, but unfortunately it didn’t really finish in the happy ending I’d read about in fairy tales.

My Mr Perfect was gorgeous, or as my Mum put it he looked like he’d just stepped off an LA beach, tanned and toned, with blonde hair and blue eyes, he’d got my attention straight away.

His jobs were pretty perfect too, yes he didn’t just have one job, but two. By night he served every women’s fantasy by saving cats, old ladies and people from burning buildings and by day he had the patience and know-how to teach children how to swim.

But it didn’t stop there, unlike my ex, who thought that one trip to the gym was enough to give him biceps the same as Arnies, he actually visited the gym more than once a month. He did spinning classes, abs work outs and swam like a fish, and all this was just preparation for the three hour bike rides, 10k races and triathlons he did.

The rest of his life was quite perfect too, he was a genuinely nice guy, but he also had the car, the house, a good selection of friends, a family that thought the world of him and work colleagues that loved him. Basically he ticked all the boxes, the guy of my dreams, he was my Mr Perfect.

Of course when I met him I wasn’t even looking for Mr right, I was on the look out for Mr right now, someone to have a bit of fun with, to spoil me and help me get over my latest break-up. I was happy to be selfish, find my independence, and concentrate on my career. But out of the blue he swaggered, shining with confidence and perfection and like many of the other girls before me (there had been a lot) I instantly thought he was ‘the one’.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been the commitment sort, marriage, babies and things like mortgages just send a shiver down my spine. When past boyfriends had even mentioned moving in with them I shrugged it off with lame excuses like money and timing. But when I met Mr Perfect I was ready to hang up my dating shoes, jump into his perfect world and make compromises and decisions that I never would have made before I met him.

And the most exciting part was that he was into me too. From the moment he met me my phone didn’t know what had hit it, he was a serial texter, and if it wasn’t my phone which was popular it was my inbox with sweet messages and ideas of dates three, four and five. His facebook status wasn’t deprived either, Mr Perfect was announcing to his facebook world that he couldn’t wait to be with me again, and after a month he even committed to a relationship with me on facebook, a done deal, or so I thought.

And for the first few months we played happy families, I was the girl who Mr Perfect would tell his friends and family about with a smile on his face, the one who he’d plant sneaky kisses on at the gym, spend lazy Sundays with and the one who he would rescue in her hour of need.

But just when it all seemed too good to be true, it was, and cracks started to appear in the perfection. The first dent was my friend’s opinions of him.

“He’s really lovely but how can you trust him? He’s far too good looking,” my friend Emily said.

“Don’t you just want to slob out with him?” Another friend said, “You must get bored of the constant spinning classes and healthy food.”

My sister’s boyfriend went as far as to give him a nickname for his perfect ways. After about a month of me dating him he started to refer to him as ‘Perfect Bob’, because being the same age as him he was slightly annoyed that Mr Perfect, with his ‘I save life’s’ job and fitness track record, was frankly, just showing him up.

My Mum even committed the cardinal sin, that any Mum can make when you're dating someone, to tell me she didn’t think he was ‘the one’. At first I thought she was joking "Don’t be silly he’s far too perfect Sarah, how could you marry someone who’s that perfect?" she’d said. When I realised her seriousness I declared my hate to her like a spoilt brat, “Oh my god your soooo wrong,” I screamed off in a strop “I’ll show you.”

But soon I started to see what she meant. Being a perfect girlfriend around Mr Perfect wasn’t easy. I loved the fact that he knew what the inside of a gym looked like but when he was leaving my bed, with me naked in it, at 6am for swimming sessions you could say I was more than slightly miffed.

He’s culinary skills also put mine to shame, although I was no Nigella in the kitchen I was definitely more than a microwave meal kind of girl. But all of a sudden I was aware that maybe I was cutting an onion the wrong way, and why was I asking his opinion on how to drain spaghetti and make scrambled eggs? I’m sure I’d got it right when I’d been single just a few months ago.

The green-eyed monster also struck when it dawned on me that he probably had more ‘girl’ friends than most guys could account for. His friendly nature meant that most of the women he came in contact with, whether they were work colleagues, mums of the kids he taught, or just any woman with a pulse, would text him on a daily basis, comment on his facebook statuses or come over all giggly when they just happened to bump into him. Most of them were just that – friends, and I tried to let it not bother me, but after about four months paranoia set in and I spent hours trying to decipher what girls ‘actually’ meant when they wrote on his facebook wall.

Independence in a man is attractive. And Mr Perfect’s independence was one of the things that attracted me to him. But too much of good thing is quite plainly – a bit weird. It’s very rare to find a man who actually knows what an iron does, let alone how to use it. But Mr Perfect had nights when he would do just that – iron. Also his washing machine was constantly in use, he hated leaving the pots and pans for tomorrow and never once did I have to remind him to send a birthday card to a relative. It was as though I had been introduced to a super new ‘Perfect’ breed of man, and while my friends were moaning about how their boyfriends didn’t do so and so, I was left wondering if he was thinking the same about me.

Towards the end of the relationship he also made me feel like my life, next to his, was more like an episode of Coronation street, boring and a bit pointless, where as his could have come straight off an action-filled episode of Lost or Prison Break. My job meant I spent a lot of time alone, in front a computer, his job meant action, stories and being a hero. And compared to him my life was far from sorted, while he moaned about a measly £500 overdraft I tried my hardest to hide my credit card debts, I was no closer to owning my own house or car than I had been when I’d left primary school, and however hard I tried my stomach never would have been as flat as his.

In a word, he was just too perfect.

So when he ended it with me I wouldn’t say I breathed a sigh of relief, it was more like a small weight had been removed from my life. I was glad that I no longer had to worry about looking perfect in the mornings and or have that ‘please don’t dump me’ money talk with him, but I was also slightly gutted.

It’s hard to get over a normal break-up, but being dumped by Mr Perfect is so much worse. It’s like winning the lottery and being told that you can’t claim your prize. Basically, a big disappointment. How could my Mr Perfect not have been perfect for me? Was I a loser that needed to sort her life out before I was good enough for him?

Of course not, but it did make me think that maybe the reality of our perfect guy will never actually live up to our expectations. If by some miracle, in real life, we happened to bag our dream man, say George Clooney, would it be so great? Or would it just make us jealous, insecure and unhappy? Reality would set in and anyone, next to a movie star who had millions of women falling over him, would pale in comparison. So perhaps we all just need to stop chasing perfection and be happy with what we’ve got.

Dating Mr Perfect was an experience, of course it had its upsides, I got some pretty nice meals cooked for me, he made me care more about my fitness and I got to kiss my Mr Perfect for six months. But if another potential date lists game shows, 6am swimming or putting out fires as his hobbies I may just have to run in the opposite direction.