200 first dates
Forget the film 50First Dates, Janice Bryant has been looking for love for 15 years and says that finding ‘the one’ really isn’t as easy as it seems…
Walking into The Dolphin Hotel, near my St Ives, Cambridgeshire, home, I immediately spotted the man I was due to meet. It was our first date, and I was looking forward to some spirited conversation, a few laughs and maybe – further down the line – well, a bit of romance.
‘Hi,’ the man smiled, getting up from his seat to greet me, and presenting me with a bunch of flowers. It was a lovely gesture and the perfect start to a first date but, within minutes, I knew there wasn’t going to be a second one.
I wasn’t being unkind, just honest. He’d clearly used an old picture on the dating site where we’d met, he was shorter than he’d said and very quiet. Like most people, I can tell almost straight away if I’m attracted to someone. It’s a sort of gut instinct.
And I’d been through this process time and time again. I’ve been on more than 200 first dates over the past 15 years and, it’s safe to say, very few men get a second.
I don’t even think my wish list is that long… I want to meet someone who challenges me, has their own opinions and likes a debate, someone who enjoys travel and can make me laugh. Oh, and I have no interest in sex pests, which – in my opinion – a few too many
people on dating sites and apps can be.
I’ve had some disastrous encounters. Men I later discovered were married, ones that leave the minute they realise I’m not going back to theirs for sex and those that bored me senseless. One actually admitted he had another date for the same evening!
I’m not saying there has never been a good date, wonderful ones even… ones that had stretched from coffee, to a long walk by the river, followed by dinner and a nightcap. But those are very few and far between. I’ve only had two or three long-lasting relationships through these sites, but I still haven’t found the man I want to grow old with.
Maybe I’d been spoilt by my late husband…
I’d first met Keith at school. We went to the same primary and secondary schools and I didn’t like him. He’d once chased me down the street after I’d accidentally taken a book about baked beans from the classroom. Fast-forward to sixth form and I was in the pub one night when Keith showed up.
Somehow, we’d ended up talking. I thought he wasn’t really my type… he was short and smoked – but as we chatted, my mind changed. He was charismatic, charming, the life and soul of the party… the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
We both went on to have high-powered jobs and I worked hard as an IT business analyst. We decided not to have children but to enjoy exciting, far-flung holidays and socialise with friends.
In 1986, we’d married on a beach in St Lucia, with our mums by our sides. Ten years later in 1996, we took an adult gap year of sorts where we travelled around the world. Together, we had the most exciting adventures.
But when we returned, Keith unexpectedly had a fit and was subsequently diagnosed with epilepsy. I worried about him all the time, and had to call a few ambulances over the years but thankfully his medication stabilised him.
‘ We’ll deal with it,’ Keith said – as we did with everything in our lives. I never imagined that we wouldn’t grow into old age together. But, in August 2005, I came home from a business trip and found Keith had passed away at home, at just 47.
My whole life crumbled. My soulmate and partnerin-crime had gone. I was alone, facing a lifetime of missing him.
The shock was more overpowering than the grief in those first weeks and I did whatever I could to distract myself.
I struggled through the days, having to stop myself from
‘One man even admitted he had another date for the same evening!’
phoning him or calling his name when I walked into the house.
The hole he’d left behind was gaping wide but by the following year, I’d come to terms with the fact that I had to find a way to live without him. So I joined a paying dating website. I was only 46 then, and open-minded about meeting a friend, maybe more. But it was a minefield! Over the intervening years, I was jumped on, ghosted, catfished – and, on occasion, bored senseless.
I even started to recognise certain faces when I progressed to trying dating apps. My girlfriends loved hearing all the salacious details – they thought it was hilarious! But I was still proud of myself for getting out there and trying.
And don’t get me wrong, I do occasionally meet lovely men. But it’s a bit like an interview, you know in the first few minutes if they’re the right person for the job!
I usually keep to a ‘dating season’ between April and late September. After that, for me, it’s just too cold and dark to be putting your glad rags on to meet unknown men. I’d rather cosy up by myself on the sofa.
I like to pay my way on dates, and my favourite routine – if it’s going well, of course! – is a riverside walk followed by a pub dinner. I’ve dated some older men, but the majority have been younger, or close to my own age.
Three years ago, I reconnected with an old friend and it blossomed into romance. We were together for two years and I enjoyed the company. But sadly, it didn’t work out and I ended the relationship earlier this year.
Now, at 62, I’m taking the rest of the year off and waiting until next Spring to see if I can track down Mr Right. But who knows? Maybe it’s time to finally just get a cat instead!