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

Right. Things have taken an unexpected turn. I have a boyfriend.

Man number 11 turned out to be a prince but it took a while for the Frog spell to wear off. He kind of sat there in his little green warty skin croaking away and then BAM! Suddenly there he stood – six foot four, swirling his ermine cape with a bejewelled crown atop his royal bonce.

I don't know what this means for this blog. Either it has to end or I can carry it on – because, to be honest, no one knows what’s going to happen with this thing as it's such early days.

He's whisked me off my feet a bit – and I can tell he's smitten. He skived the day off work to take me to the seaside on Tuesday and he can't seem to get enough of seeing me. He has asked me very nicely not to do any more internet dating and to give up this 100 Frogs lark. I'm sorry. I know this is bad news. But I can't refuse, can I?

Last night I revealed our secret relationship and the village is rife with gossip about us. We were out separately with friends and he gave me a hug at the bar in our local and the place fell silent. It was like The Slaughtered Lamb in American Werewolf In London. The barmaid's jaw dropped open her colleague had to help her to close her mouth. I heard someone behind me say: “How long has this been going on?”

And I went to meet my brother in a pub 20 minutes walk away and the people in there knew everything by the time I got there!

The villagers are revolting!

I could carry on reporting on how a lifelong commitment-phobic woman who's ended every single relationship she's ever been in gets on trying to stay in a relationship once and for all, in the face of village-wide disapproval and resistance.

It doesn't really go with the blog's theme, does it?

One good thing: I am very happy.