My dating dry spell continues and so I thought if I started a discussion about why I’m not dating anyone at the moment, it might help me clarify in my head just what the issue is. So I started to write a list of reasons why I hadn’t replied to a selection of men, and here’s what I came up with.


I had to stop at 7 because quite frankly, I could have written much, much more. I haven’t mentioned ‘Dommie’ who wants to know what my 3 favourite songs are (he also wears a cravat), or the men whose profile pictures are of them showing us ‘lucky’ ladies how long their tongues are … OR the man who looks like Al Murray Pub Landlord.


I could write a book on this shit.


Anyway, here’s my Top 7 this week:


1. He wore a black shirt and turquoise tie

I like to think I’m not shallow. OK, I am a bit. But for me, a black shirt and coloured tie (any tie) is just a no-no. Not even David Beckham can carry off that look. So for any man reading this, don’t do it.


2. He had a pierced eyebrow

I’m all for personal expression … as long as you don’t end up looking like a twat. I can’t imagine introducing a new boyfriend to the boys when he’s got a pierced eyebrow and wears a baseball cap. Maybe you can get away with it when you’re in your 20’s (I said maybe), but in your 40’s, not so much.


3. He had a dresser full of plates behind him

Being a plate collector isn’t sexy. Although upon further investigation, I found out he was in his Mum’s house and I’m meeting him on Tuesday.


4. He had a goatee a la David Brent

You know the goatees that look like they’re just drawn on with a biro? That.


5. His profile photo was of him posing with a skeleton

I … can’t … even.


6. His profile photo is of him wearing red lipstick

I’m sure there’s a perfectly plausible story behind this. Probably. But trust me, it’s not a great way to sell yourself to a woman.


7. His name is Linus

I just can’t imagine ever being able to bring myself to cry out, “Linus! Harder Linus!” in the throes of passion, were it ever to get that far. Which it won’t. Because he’s called Linus.


So to summarise … am I being too fussy? Yes, I probably am. But I know what I like (and what I don’t.) I talked about this with my best friend at the weekend as we got our creep on in London (she’s single too) and we decided that from now on we were going to be a little less fussy and perhaps go out with someone that we would otherwise just ignore.


With that in mind, not only am I going to go out with Plate Man (above), I’m going to meet someone that I turned down a year ago. Our paths have crossed again this week and as much as my initial reaction was, “Nice bloke, not my type,” I’ve decided to go ahead and meet him.


Sounds very magnanimous of me doesn’t it?! *sarcastic face* and I know I probably sound like a pompous dick, but fellow daters will know exactly what I mean. I don’t want to come across as someone who is giving this ‘lucky’ bloke the pleasure of my company, I just mean that I need to start thinking more about personality than having that immediate PHWOAR feeling.


Love can grow from friendship and so maybe I need to be less about the biro goatee and more about the personality. How am I going to find someone that could make me happy if I can’t get past first appearances?


There are still some no-no’s (being called Linus being one of them), but watch this space.


kate sutton


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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

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  1. Poor Linus, I now feel quite sorry for him although there is always the option of changing your name by deed poll. Maybe he should change it to Charlie?

  2. So…..have you thought any more about my suggestion of applying for First Dates? This just seals it for me – you would be awesome! I love your writing m’dear. Entertaining and so down to earth. You WILL meet Mr Right, I know it.

  3. My favourite was always the men who were photographed with children then said in their profile “Don’t worry, they’re not my kids”. What was the point? Don;t get me started on Cat Guy either. Internet use may have moved on, but dating hasn’t changed at all.

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