You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

I realise that even though it’s a bit cynical to call this dating spree a game, a game is indeed what it is. And I think it’s the same for every single person the world over. The dating itself is a game and I am also the game because, although it looks like I’m the one seeking a man, I am definitely the one being hunted.

I hate books such as The Rules and I hate when people work out formulas that tell you how to behave in order to get what you want (How To Win Friends And Influence People – yuk! That’s so dark.) But it’s inevitable that I should start to see patterns in psychology and behaviour if I’m getting so much dating experience. And I have, I’m afraid, come to my first conclusion – a fact – which, if I want to do this right (do I?), I’m going to have to consider and change my behaviour accordingly.

This fact is (are you ready?):

Men only want women that they think don’t fancy them.

I’ll say it again:

Men only want women that they think don’t fancy them.

This has been the only consistent thing that I’ve noticed from all nine men and more or less 20 dates. Maybe it’s a generalisation and my 9 men and 20 dates aren’t typical of the average male behaviour. It’s possible. It could be just a ‘human’ thing and not a male thing at all – but I’ve looked back over my life (have often still fancied men that fancied me) and even No 9 on last Sunday’s date - I thought he fancied me and I still fancied him. Girlfriends are often thrilled when blokes they fancy fancy them back.

If you’re a bloke and you’re reading this, you might object. But think about it first on an individual case-by-case basis. Let me know if I’m wrong.

The men that I’ve still got hanging around are unsure about whether I like them enough I think – because I won’t jump into bed with ‘em and I’ve been reserved. If I have begun to be unreserved and show that I do fancy them, all of them have immediately backed off. Remember Fat Scouser relegating me from weekend girl to midweek girl? That was because I got a bit tipsy and behaved like I liked him.

So – this calls for an experiment. Is that wrong? I don’t think it is really because the men are definitely playing games with me and I’ve pretty much been myself and even though it sometimes feels like I’m stumbling blindfolded through a field full of landmines, I haven’t really tried very hard to do anything that could be described as manipulation. They, on the other hand, are constantly trying to manipulate me into sex. I’m well aware that that’s the only reason that some of them are still around!

Anyway this is such fun who cares if it’s wrong!!!

Experiment.

On the next dates I go on, I will behave like I really don’t fancy them – especially if I do fancy them. Even if I’ve been out with them before.

Should I look slightly bored? Should I be self-obsessed and talk over them and stop listening to them (I do a lot of listening at the moment, especially with No 6 (Gere).)? Should I stare around the room as if I’m looking for another bloke?

I need to get it right.

Any tips on how to act like I don’t fancy them would be appreciated (as long as its not repeating the farting episode but while lifting one cheek of the chair, announcing: “Better out than in.”)

Let’s see what happens.

This is all so bad and I feel a bit guilty doing this because I know it’s wrong – but it’s just so much fun! It doesn’t matter anyway if it backfires because it might have it’s ups and downs, but I’m kind of enjoying the single life too much at the moment to give it up – I’m hoping to get to at least Man Number 90.

The hunted turns into the hunter.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

Number 9 has gone cold. He was keen on the date, phoned me twice yesterday, last night for another two hours. He gave me some mixed messages during that long conversation. Not really sure what’s going on. He made a date for Saturday and then broke it all in the same sentence. He’s stalling about making a second date. He said all sorts of mixed up things that have confused the hell out of me and his attitude is entirely different from the one on our date when he spent most of the time looking into my eyes like he thought I was the best thing he’s ever seen.

When we parted on Sunday he seemed pretty bowled over.

Then he changed – just like that. He said he wants to see me again but it’s like he’s reeled back everything he said and did on the date. I KNOW that he definitely wasn’t acting in order to get me into bed because he didn’t try anything and HE was the one who set the boundaries for that before we met.

He knows I’m quite keen, so that may be it. Don’t you just hate men? I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I feel really upset.

Anyway, stuff him. I’m not going to lose sleep over it. He can get lost. I’ve just made not one date, not two, but three! I’m now going out later this week and next week with Men numbers 3, 6 and 7 (Ed Norton, Richard Gere and Fat Scouser). And I’ve started and earnest search for Man number 10. I would have loved it to have gone somewhere with No 9 – he is gorgeous. But there is absolutely no way on earth I’m letting anyone mess me about.

NEXT, NEXT and NEXT!!

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

Since I last posted I’ve found and dated Man number 9. Our actual communication began weeks ago, as we’ve been sending each other really silly emails about biscuits and stuff. His profile on the dating site is really different, which was what first got me interested.

If you’ve been on any of these sites, you’ll know that it’s hard to find someone that doesn’t represent themselves with a string of clichés. One half says things like: “Life is for living” and “I live life to the full.” A classic is: “I like snuggling up in front of a log fire, watching a DVD with a nice bottle of wine,” Etc etc. And the other half seem to be into extreme and dangerous sports and have photos where they’re wrestling a crocodile mid-air after throwing themselves out of a plane or hurling themselves into a ravine with a bunjee rope tied around one toe and stuff. Some of them have so many extreeeeeeme hobbies that it seems unlikely that they’d find time between white water rafting sessions to fit a girlfriend into the picture. It makes you wonder why they’re advertising for a relationship at all, unless they’re liars and just trying to impress and they’re all really at home every night watching CSI.

Anyway, number 9’s profile was funny and unusual. I can’t put any of it here for fear of him being identified, but when I read it I laughed so much I snorted coffee out of my nose. But then I had a phone conversation with him a couple of weeks ago and wasn’t that interested. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was because I was infatuated with the Scouser. So I stopped emailing him, and then the really silly emails gradually all just started up again – his utter daftness lured me in. He’s a musician, and although I’m well known as a musical wasteland the creative process is very similar to that of a writer – creative people are my favourites - so we've got a lot in common.

So there it was, bubbling along, until Wednesday this week when we talked on the phone again and ended up staying on the phone for over two hours. Then again the next day and again the next. We’d talked for a total of seven and a half hours by the time we set the date (the next day – yesterday).

I was so nervous about meeting him. It was worse than going to the dentist. We’d built up such a strong phone relationship that I was actually afraid that if we didn’t find each other physically attractive, that I’d feel a sense of loss.

I sent him a text saying: “You’d better not be a minger.” He replied: “I’m fucking gorgeous.”

Anyway, he was!

…and intelligent and witty and creative and imaginative and amazing.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

George Clooney (Man no 8) didn’t look like George Clooney at all. I’m going to refer to him as ‘NotGeorge Clooney’ from now on. He was nice though, tall (6ft 2in) good looking, friendly and unusual.

When I say unusual, I mean there were aspects of his personality that don’t usually go together in the same bloke.

The first 20 minutes of the date was taken up by an argument about which of us was from the most working class background. It started with him asking me if I remember ‘dolly tubs’. I’d heard of them but don’t remember having one (have no idea how it came up, something to do with his dad killing unwanted kittens in one! No idea how that came up!) I said that when I was a kid we had an electric twin tub (in which we definitely didn’t kill any kind of domestic pet) so he accused me of being posh.

I objected and we began to get competitive about it and I think I might have won on account of the fact that we didn’t get a colour telly until I was fifteen and we had an outside toilet.

It was a close call, though, as while my dad used Brillcreem on his hair, his had couldn’t afford the luxury so he used butter (by the time he got home from the pub it had always gone rancid. Lovely).

Now here’s the unusual bit: this bloke is a real Northern ‘lad’, but he’s studying to be a Reiki Master !! So our conversation swung from stag nights and stories of boys’ bravado, drunken nights out with the lads, filthy Chubby Brown jokes (I know) to how to balance your chakras, yin and yang and how to channel your healing energy.

It was so weird and, although we got on well and talked non-stop, I left feeling a bit confused. Have I discovered a new species? Is this the 21st Century version of the 90s 'New Man'?

He’s nice though. Let’s see where this goes then. My opinion at the moment is that I don’t really want to get into a relationship with him, but friendship would be nice.

On my way to finding Man no 9 now.

NEXT!

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

I think it’s time to come clean about some things that have happened on dates that I haven’t mentioned due to acute embarrassment. Now there’s some distance between me and the dates, I’m finding it funny. Besides, it would be unfair of me to hide the gaffes that I’ve made when revealing the truth might prevent others from doing the same.

The first embarrassing moment was when I was in the club on the third date with Fat Scouser (Sinbad No 7). Now if any of you women watch those dodgy makeover programmes with Trinny and Susannah or that Gok fella, you’ll know what Magic Knickers are. Well, being drawn in to the undergarment marketing trap, I bought some and wore them on my date with No 7. Now my frock did have smooth lines and there were no lumps or bumps to be seen and I was impressed with the job done by the sturdy Magic Knicker.

Unfortunately, though, as he was sitting opposite me he leant forward to kiss me and felt the sides of my thighs. He stopped kissing me abruptly and felt again and said: “Have you got shorts on?”

I was absolutely mortified. I reacted by mumbling something about wearing boxer shorts and he seemed happy with that but it was awful! I was well aware that he might know the shameful truth as these unders have had mass coverage in the media lately.

I have to warn any girls here – DO NOT wear these dodgy pants EVER. First of all, they make you look ridiculous when your dress is off and even if no one is going to see them they make you feel really unsexy.

And what if you’re not as old fashioned as me and you do want to stay for a night of passion? Trinny and Susannah always say “Go to the loo and take them off beforehand.” But where do you put them? I have images of emergency plumbers all over the country fishing massive elasticated bloomers out of the U-bend.

Mine are now in the bin.

And, even worse than that, believe it or not was Monday’s date with Richard Gere. He’d made it all romantic, remember, with candle light and a table for two. Well I got a lift to his house with a friend who has one of those jobs that no one mentions. She’s a prostitute. Lovely girl she is and I’m not judgemental of what she does, it’s up to her.

Anyway, she’s a bit pushy and she wanted to come in to check him out (I think I mentioned that) so come in she did. She gave him the third degree and left. He hated her. She thought he was a ‘pretentious bastard’

I forgot that he knew she was a hooker and when she’d gone he was incredulous that I’d brought her to our date. He laughed about it though. I said I thought bringing a prostitute along was the etiquette. I was embarrassed though.

And even worse than that! I’ve got a cough and towards the end of a very romantic evening (and remember I was all dressed up in my posh finery) I coughed so hard that I let out a massive fart. I’m sure he heard it. I tried to cover it up by scraping the chair a few times, which must have looked really stupid and just made it worse. He’s a gentleman and he didn’t react – but I know he must have heard it.

I can only just think of this without blushing and wanting to die.

So I brought along a hooker to the date and then farted loudly.

That’s class that is.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

I've just arranged to go out on Sunday evening with Man No 8. This is a new No 8 as I lost the original one through being lazy and not contacting him. But this new one, and I know it sounds far-fetched after the Richard Gere-alike, really does look like George Clooney. In his photos, anyway.

He might not in real life, as I've found that people do tend to put flattering pictures on their profiles. Not that I'm bothered if he's nice and fanciable. We talked on the phone for an hour last night and he had a great personality. He's dry and a bit odd and quirky - and I like that.

I also quite like this matching these men up to celebs thing that has evolved - it gives a good visual and stops you having to remember numbers all the time.

So George Clooney is next!

I wonder what little story is going to come out of this one? Remember that 3, 6 and 7 are still on he scene - for an update read the blog post below.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

I’m not sure but I think I’ve just discovered a new pulling technique for girls who want serious relationships and who want to stay in control.

Fat Scouser behaved badly, right?

Right?

But he WAS extremely funny, fun to be with and interesting and really quite sexy. The only thing I didn’t like about him was the intense pressure to go to bed with him. It began to overshadow all the fun we’d had in the beginning. It destroyed a developing friendship.

So, as you know I dumped him by text last Saturday.

Today I thought about this and decided to text him. I said:

“Hi, I know you’ll think I’m mad but I thought you were a really nice person – really funny. It would be a shame to lose you. Would you like to go out for a no-strings drink and be friends?”

He replied instantly with:

“Hey you. I was thinking the same thing over the weekend. Abso bloody lutely! Don’t think you’re mad at all. If it’s not to be, it’s not to be. But at least we can have a laugh together J It would be lovely to meet up soon. Hope you’re ok. Xx”

So there’s another avenue open (that’s three now, isn’t it?)

So the technique is when you start to lose control of the situation, dump them. Then wait a bit and re-establish contact, changing the circumstances to ‘friendship’. This is really the only real way you can get to know someone anyway. I wonder what I can call the technique? Any ideas on a postcard to... just leave a comment.

If you think that’s playing games. I wasn’t. I really did want to meet up with the norty monkey again. Also, if you’re a bloke reading this and you get pissed off with women playing games then stop playing them yourself! What else is pretending to be interested in someone in order to get them into bed?! :-P

Here’s a key to the three men on the scene at the moment, so you don’t get lost in names and numbers:

Man number 3 (celebrity look-e-like: Edward Norton)

We met, went out five times and I stopped contacting him. He got back in touch after finding a girlfriend and we became friends. He kissed me last week and then apologised.

Man number 6 (celebrity look-e-like: Richard Gere)

Slow burning, widely spread dates. Has expressed interest in pursuing some sort of relationship.

Man number 7 (celebrity look-e-like: Sinbad out of Brookside)

Have ended dating under pressure to have sex. Now we’re going to go out as friends.

So many men... how will I find the time

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

Man No 6 (Richard Gere) cooked dinner for me last night at his home. Before anyone shouts at me because I’ve only met him twice, I know where he works and he has a job that’s in the public eye. I also got my friend to drop me off and she came in for a glass of wine (to check all seemed safe). My family also knew where I was going.

I wore posh clothes and even heels. He cooked sea bass. It was lovely. He’d lit candles and made everything kind of romantic and we just had a nice evening chatting and I suddenly realised it was after 1am and I got a cab home.

He says he thought I wasn’t interested in him so he’s been a bit slack in making contact (which I hadn't noticed, so he's probably right). He said he wants to get to know me (said he thought I was beautiful :D).

I believed him at the time but today I feel unsure. There’s something about him that I just don’t trust. He talked about wanting kids and stuff like that, which made me feel a bit like he was saying what he thought I wanted to hear. I don’t know. It’s a gut feeling kind of thing that I can’t put my finger on. Maybe I’ve just become extra paranoid after the fat Scouser episode.

He’s also 10 years older than me and he’s pretty serious in his attitude and, although I’ve got a serious side, I’m silly a lot of the time. (Maybe it’s time I grew up ?) I know what it is that bothers me – he makes me feel one dimensional. Or, rather, I make myself feel one dimensional when I’m with him by only allowing him to see one side of me – the serious side. He also talks a lot about himself and doesn’t convince me that he’s listening very intently to what I say. He rarely asks me a question.

Positives are that he is extremely handsome, he’s intelligent and can talk about really interesting stuff. He’s cultured with eclectic tastes, he’s a proper man, compared with the 'boys' I usually date.

I just need to get to know him I suppose.

We did have a 10 or 15 minute snogging session, which was nice (for the first few minutes, though, I did find myself wishing he was Man number 3! (my friend who snogged me at my gate).

Ooh, I’ve snogged three different men in the past week!

Anyway, moving on... Man number 8 has been trying to ring me on my special ‘dating hotline’ but I haven't been home to answer it (think red plastic 70s-type dial phone, think Bat-phone). I’m going to set up a date for later in the week. I wonder what story will unfold from this new one? It’s a slow process this 100 frogs business. I’ve been doing it for three months and I’m not even past the first 10 yet. If I just dated them all once it would be quicker, but each date turns into a mini ‘relationship’.

This game really is good fun – quite addictive. I’d recommend it to anyone.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

Continued…

Some people might ask why I’m not sleeping with any of these men. The men themselves (some of them, not Man 3) think I’m a tease and that I’m ‘making them wait’ because of some calculated ‘trick’ that is designed to get them to commit.

This opinion seems to be very widely spread. It often goes along with the ‘why shouldn’t women behave like men and get what they want?’ philosophy.

Books like Why Men Love Bitches and The Rules and Dating Without Drama all say that after having sex with a new partner you should try to behave exactly like you did before you had sex with them. “Do not call them or become clingy or hassle them in any way. Men need space at this time and if you give them any clues that you have become attached to them and are going to threaten their freedom, they will run a mile.” That’s not a direct quote but it’s essentially what they all say.

This is all rubbish. The absolute truth of the matter is that women get loaded up to the eyeballs with oxytocin after sex and they’d become very strongly emotionally bonded to the biggest tosser in the world for a short time. So sleeping with a man and then suffering badly when he ‘needs space’ and doesn’t contact you is really putting his needs before yours.

The most dignified and safe way to conduct yourself and to keep your own best interests at heart is to NOT sleep with a man until you are sure he cares about you and that you can at least be real enough with each other to not have to play games afterwards. I’m not talking major commitment, even friendship will do. Sleeping with men who you’re unsure about and whose motives you have any hint of doubt about is foolish and one of the worst things about the attitude of our society. More women get hurt by this than anything else.

Women keep on sleeping with men, thinking they’re in control, then trying to deny the horrible feelings they get every time after they’ve done it! Women have to pretend they feel alright about it all because they’re behaving in the modern socially acceptable way. I’m sorry loves, but you’re not men and you’re always going to wake up feeling a strong bond with him – even if he’s a prat. And then he won’t call you and it will hurt like hell. So don’t do it.

Anyway that’s why I’m not jumping into bed with them all.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

I think a quick day-by-day description of events needs to be written before I go on to my main topic (sex!). I think I might have to do two posts today.

I wrote my last blog entry about my feelings for the fat scouser (Man no 7) last Monday. That night I got some quite raunchy text messages from him. I replied with good humour but when they started to to get more and more explicit I asked him to slow down.

Tuesday
He rang me and apologised, but then asked: “But did you like it?”

Wednesday
No contact, but I went out with Man No 3 (remember him? The one that is now my friend who has a girlfriend).

Thursday
Went out to dinner with Fat Scouser. Things were OK at first but then he kept on asking me how long I was going to make him wait before I’d go to bed with him. We arranged to go out at the weekend. Then towards the end of the night, when he’d worked out that I wasn’t going to be a push-over, he said: “I’m not sure about Saturday now. I’ve got a leaving do that I have to make an appearance at and I just feel like being by myself. I’m free midweek next week though.” So I was relegated from weekend girl to midweek girl. Says a lot.

Friday
Man No 3 (friend) came around and we went out for drinks. I told him about Fat scouser and everything that had happened and he seriously warned me off him. While we were out Fat scouser started to send me a run of obscene texts, including one that demanded I let him get a cab round to my house and sleep with him or he was going to ‘cop off’ with the ‘apocolypse of girls’ he’d already been snogging that night. This seriously threw water on the flames of my desire! Ew! What a prat!

Then things took a strange turn. Man No 3 (friend) was leaving and he hugged me and gave me a peck on the lips goodnight and one of those movie moments happened and we launched ourselves at each other and started kissing passionately at my front gate.

(I LOVE this life).

He left and sent me an apology by text.

Saturday
I sent Fat Scouser (No 7) a text (it’s all he deserved) saying I didn’t want to see him again.

Sunday
Man No 3 (more than friend?) came round to ‘explain’ and to say he was sorry and that he felt bad and wanted to make sure I was ok. He also said he was confused about his feelings as he’d always liked me, but now he had a girlfriend. I cried all over him because the snog had ‘woken me up’ to him. (But I’ve got a grip now).

It’s like a soapy, isn’t it?

I’ve got to know him well and he’s one of the kindest, most considerate people I’ve ever met. The outcome was that we’d stay friends and try to remain in control of ourselves.

Hmmm…

Time will tell in this storyline.

Once one of my friends bought me a Mr Men Book called “Little Miss Fickle”. I’ve only just realised the power of her insight into my psyche! I’m flitting about like I don’t know what – but it’s such good fun.

The more and more I get into being single, the less and less I want a serious relationship.

You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.
This is the story of one woman dating 100 men in an effort to find Mr Right

Last week turned out to be quite different from the one planned. On Tuesday I went out with Man number 7 (Scouser) as planned. He took me out to dinner. I then cancelled the date with Man number 6 (Richard Gere-alike) the next day and didn’t confirm the loosely arranged date Friday with Man number 8. The truth is that after the dinner with Man number 7, I didn’t want to go out with anyone else.

That doesn’t mean that I won’t – I just didn’t want to that week. I actually ended up going out with No 7 on Saturday too (date number 3). We went drinking and to a club. I can’t remember the last time I got on so well with someone. We were standing outside a bar talking and laughing and he kept on looking at my mouth. My friend calls it ‘the flirting triangle’ – when a man looks at your eyes and then down to your mouth when you’re talking. It is quite sexy and if you want to know what I mean think about how inappropriate it would be to stare intently at the mouth of a platonic friend while they’re talking! Anyway, the looks and the little touches and how closely we were standing made the atmosphere really charged - it was intense.

I was mid-sentence when he suddenly grabbed me and kissed me.

Pass me a bucket of cold water please.

I’ve developed a VERY strong infatuation. The type of thing that makes him look like a movie star through a soft focus lense. The type of thing that makes you not want to eat! Yes. Seriously!

It’s so bad that I’ve had to orchestrate a break from seeing him so that I can get a grip. He probably thinks I don’t phone him and I don’t seem over keen to see him because I’m not interested – but it’s because I’m too interested too soon and it’s scary.

I’ve only met the man three times for god’s sake – it’s got to be hormones (bloody hormones again!). Good old oxytocin. (the ‘love’ or bonding chemical in the brain, if you didn’t know). I’m Oxy-toxic!

When we were in the club, he asked me if I’d go back to his place and I said no. He said: “Right answer.” (And he seemed pleased. That’s an unusual reaction for a man who’s just been turned down for sex). And if my oxytocin levels have risen to this level just by having a few snogs, can you imagine how I’d be feeling if I had gone back to his place? I don’t think I’d be able to get through the day!

You might think I’m unromantic or cold. I’m not (I can assure you, what I’m feeling is definitely not cold!), I just want to be practical and sensible. I don’t even know the guy. Everything I feel is based on conclusions I’ve drawn from what I’ve seen so far (which has all been very lovely) and I could be projecting my own ideals on to him. He could turn out to be very different to who I now think he is. Even the most idealistic and starry-eyed people must have to admit that it’s better to be cautious at this early point.

Right now, he seems sharp, intelligent, funny and charming and I honestly can’t stop thinking about him and I feel a kind of sick tightening somewhere in the middle of me that is painful and pleasurable at the same time. I feel normal for short periods of time as I get on with everyday stuff and then as I remember I’ve met him it’s suddenly like someone’s jump-started my heart.

It’s been so long –SO long since I’ve felt like this. It feels dangerous.