Stop setting me up!
The perils of being the last single man standing
Spare a thought for Prince Harry. Apparently, he’s the last unattached man among his inner circle, and everyone’s getting worried. Harry is now running the gauntlet of wedding season, where, as I’ve discovered, being single means you’re always placed next to the only other single person at the event – never mind that they’re the bride’s 17-yearold cousin over from Canada – in the hope that the romantic vibes and free champagne will end your dry spell.
People have even started offering to set him up: earlier this month, Jenna Bush Hager, daughter of George W Bush, asked him on live TV if he wanted to date her sister, Barbara.
“She’s available!” was Jenna’s glowing endorsement, because of course, as the most eligible bachelor in Britain, he’s not fussy.
I hit 40 a couple of months back and, like Harry, am the last single man standing among my friends. I, too, have become used to friends – for which, read “female friends” – offering their matchmaking skills. With a sympathetic smile and a gentle touch on the elbow that would normally be reserved for an elderly relative who is about to enter hospital for the last time, they quietly whisper that they know someone “perfect” for me.
I now know that at this point you must go into Protect and Survive mode. If you don’t, it could end up like the day I spent with Margot.
She was the Polish colleague of my friend Emily. As Emily likes knitting, I sort of presumed Margot would be on the quiet side, too. It was something of a surprise, therefore, to watch her get into a drunken fight with a Russian woman in the pub garden where we’d arranged to meet one afternoon.
Later, through the thick vodka mist, I tried to piece together that fateful day. The jump-off point had been the arrival of a couple of Russians. Margot had sat scowling, repeating everything that the woman said in English in a sort of dolphin-like screeching. I asked what on earth she was doing. She referred me to the fraught relationship between her people and theirs. The Russian woman – who looked like she could handle herself – came over to demand an explanation.
And so I sat with a vodka tonic, watching my date punching a complete stranger in a pub that I had once quite liked visiting.
I genuinely appreciate my friends’ concern for my love life, and as it happens I’m far from averse to finding someone, but after meeting a number of their suggested matches, I do sometimes wonder if my friends have ever met
My theory is that blind dates are a form of bloodsport, enjoyed by the spectators and feared by the daters.
It’s mostly my female friends who are already in relationships that insist I meet their oddest chums. I suspect it’s because they miss the thrill of a new thing themselves, so they can have that little vicarious skip of the heart by hearing about my first doorstep kiss or second passive-aggressive text argument about which film to see. And here I am: a ready-made avatar.
“People like to get involved and be a do-gooder,” says professional matchmaker Suzie Parkus. “Sometimes they use intuition, sometimes they try to vet a person on behalf of their single friends, and others throw spaghetti at the wall and hope it sticks.”
Call me Mr Cynical, but I also suspect my friends are secretly hoping that if it works out, for the rest of my life, I will Owe Them.
Worst of all is when your date is on show, rather like a public execution. “Am I on a date?” I once had occasion to ask a friend of mine in his kitchen. I had thought I was coming over for a meal, but arrived to discover his girlfriend shooting meaningful looks at her friend, who was the only other guest. “Yes,” was the reply. “Try not to be an idiot.” Our hosts did everything but spread rose petals on the sofa bed.
And yet, if there’s one thing worse than being set up by your friends, it’s being set up by your mum. Believe me. I’ve been there. In the end, it took four hour-long phone calls before my mother forgave me for just not fancying the daughter of her old friend.
Sadly, I couldn’t find a “Sorry, I am not attracted to your friend’s daughter” card. I’m not saying that such a card is necessary, but if Clintons wants to start producing one, I’ll be stocking up.
‘I do sometimes wonder if my friends have ever met me’