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To deter time-wasters, I tried to be as specific about what I was looking for in a man as possible: someone with a good sense of humour who would share my love of Eighties music.
As a more mature woman, I also made it plain I didn’t appreciate being called ‘babe’, ‘sweetie’, ‘princess’, ‘my lovely’, ‘cutie’, or ‘hun’ and that I was not in the market for one-night stands. It felt like going shopping with no limit on my card.
Then there are the tattooed drinkers and smokers brigade, all pictured ‘down the pub’, and finally the sportsmen perched on high-spec bikes, spattered in mud on assault courses, or crossing marathon finishing lines.
A man named Paul claimed to be an injured body builder, yet he seemed baffled when I decided to call his bluff by asking about the technical details of his diet plan. Spending a lonely old age in front of the TV began to seem rather inviting.
When I refused to interact with him, he sent more messages until I had to report him to the app and delete my profile.‘What I find particularly depressing is that these men think that’s what women today have been reduced to — that it’s a normal way to speak to a woman in 2017.‘If this is the way forward in dating, the world is going to be left full of single, lonely hearts.’Finally I felt ready to dip my toe back into dating.
Since my divorce nine years ago, my life has revolved around my 14-year-old daughter, Sophie, and my business.
For she, like countless other middle-aged divorcees, has found the world of internet dating — of which Tinder leads the field — to be a tawdry, loveless, moral abyss.So when super-muscled Dave popped up, saying he was a member of an elite Army regiment on a secret mission to the Middle East, I decided to do some digging.