Up until 2022, I was in a long-term relationship (married for 12 years). For the most part, it was a loving, supportive marriage where I always felt emotionally and physically safe. Then came the twist: it turns out my husband was a liar and a cheat. Fast forward to now, he’s been hopping in and out of relationships like it’s a hobby, while I’ve been busy focusing on the important stuff (my kids, my career, and figuring out who I am outside of all that.) Given he only sees the children once a fortnight, my free time is basically a luxury.
In the past three years, I swear I’ve met every type of man imaginable. I’m in my late 30s and usually date my own age or up to ten years older, which apparently still isn’t old enough for emotional maturity.
There was The Narcissist, the one who reeled me in, promised the world, then breadcrumbed me into oblivion, I thought we were finally in an established relationship until I caught him cheating. I eventually found my self-respect and escaped.
Then came The Nice Guy/Love Bomber, who turned out to be so intense I felt like I was in a romance novel, but it just didn’t feel right for me. When I said I didn’t see a future, he tried to guilt-trip me with a speech about how “the nice guy always finishes last.” And topped it off by advising me that he was the sort of guy I needed.
Next was The Timewaster, who’d message every few weeks like clockwork just to say hi…no plans, no effort, just vibes. Closely followed by Peter Pan, who thought a mum of two with a demanding full-time job could drop everything for a spontaneous week away.
The Game Player was all passion one minute and radio silence the next. Then there was Mr Me, Myself and I, who could talk about himself for so long I started to wonder if I’d accidentally joined a podcast interview. He knew nothing about me, but I could write his autobiography.
The “Any Woman Will Do” Man was another classic, the type who clearly just wants a partner, any partner, and doesn’t really care who fills the woman-shaped space in his life. Then there was The Woman Hater, the kind who likes the idea of dating but seems genuinely offended that women have opinions, rights, or jobs. And let’s not forget The Therapy Patient, who turns the first date into a trauma dump about his ex. Finally, the pièce de résistance: The Married Man. Enough said.
I’ve met every one of these men (sometimes twice, just in different packaging). At this point, my block list looks like the Yellow Pages, and honestly? I’m bored.
So here’s my question: do I just accept that dating might not be for me, or do I stay open to the possibility that somewhere out there is a man who’s not a walking red flag disguised as a charming chat?