HOW TO FIND LOVE WITHOUT DATING APPS.

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I wanted to see Gladiator 2 with my boyfriend, but this was a problem because I didn’t have a boyfriend. So, I got out my phone, went into the App Store and downloaded Hinge again…again. Their slogan is, ‘Designed to be deleted’. Sounds about right. I’ve deleted it three times now. The last time was whilst crying on a train because the man didn’t like me in real life.

The familiar white icon with the black H began to load onto my photo.

H for…. Ha! You’re alone.

H for…Horny and desperate.

H for… Husband teaser.

This wasn’t going to be like the last time. I was going to be clear(-ish) about what I wanted. I wanted to see a Gladiator 2. That’s it. No strings attached. So, I started to fill in the sign-up form…again.

Name. Location. Date of birth. You’re 33. Almost middle-aged. Is that correct? (Yes, Hinge. F*** off.) What kind of relationship are you looking for? Monogamy? Poly? Are you looking for a long-term relationship? Short term? (I want a 2 hour 28 minute relationship). Do you have children? Do you want children? Do you do drugs? Do you drink alcohol? Do you want to do drugs? Do you believe in God?

And it was at that point that I gave up. It was far too much effort. All I wanted was a man to sit with me for a couple of hours, who looks great in the dark, won’t try to talk to me while Paul Mescal is on screen, and, who, most importantly, won’t insist on sharing my popcorn. I hate sharing my popcorn. BUY YOUR OWN POPCORN!

So, I deleted it again. No dating apps. Well. There is still one more dating app. I am still waiting to be accepted onto RAYA. I downloaded it ten months ago and am still on the waitlist. Every time I go on it, I am met with this message:

“We continually review our waitlist and will send you a notification if there are any changes to your application status.”

They tell you to send referrals from current members. I have given them THREE already. That’s more than any job application.

The app is for the super-hot, rich and famous. So, a lot of models, bankers and the odd celebrity. This is probably why they won’t let me on.

I was sitting with a banker once who showed me his RAYA. “It’s so annoying because all the models are in another country,” he said, then showed me the most beautiful woman…but she lived in Paris. It’s a cruel world.

I wonder what the reviewing process at the RAYA HQ is like. I imagine them reviewing the week’s applications in their Monday morning meetings, in a long room with twenty people wearing suits, sitting around a varnished table. One by one, a photo of the applicant appears on the screen, and the table votes Yes or No.

“This is Mary, she lives in Oxford. She’s 5ft 3. She has…six hundred followers on Instagram…..”

And this is when the boardroom will BURST into laughter. “SIX…hundred? My Mum has more followers than that. Next!”

I sought advice from one of my friends on RAYA. She told me I should buy a blue tick on social media. The blue tick used to only be for celebrities. (It was to stop scammers pretending they were Harry Styles, who was suddenly stuck on an island and desperate for money). But now, anyone can buy a blue tick.

I have this conspiracy theory or Black Mirror episode… that Elon Musk knows the world will end soon, and he will only let the verified users on X onto his spaceship, and will take them to the Moon to live.

I don’t want to live on the Moon with Elon, so I’m not going to get the tick. Which means I’ll probably never be allowed into the house of RAYA.

So, without the apps, how do you find someone and make them love you? I read somewhere that the worst thing you can do on a date is sit opposite someone and talk, which pretty much eliminates any dinner or drink date. That’s where I am going wrong.

Apparently, people are more likely to be attracted to you when they see you doing something confidently. You know, when guys do that thing when they reverse a car using one flat hand. God help me.

When I think back, every memorable time someone has caught my eye, in that slow-motion kind of way, it’s when I’m watching them doing something they’re good at. That’s when I think…. “Yes! Him!”

I was talking to my brother’s friend who told me, without me asking, that I would meet someone if I joined a running club.

“DO NOT join a running club,” Sausage said. She had witnessed me in P.E at school; pink-faced, losing most races, letting in goals in hockey, and not being able to successfully pivot in netball. “That is not how you’re going to attract a man!” She had a point. Nobody wants the red-faced girl, puffing at the back.

And even if you meet a man at a running club who becomes your boyfriend. What you’ve now got on your hands is a runner. Someone who will expect you to understand his daily 5ks and yearly marathons. One day, you’ll inevitably blow up and throw his trainers out of the window when he tells you he’s signed up for YET another marathon.

“But you said when we met at running club that you loved running.” He would argue. And to be fair, you did say that.

So, no running club. But I wasn’t sure what other activity I could do; I read, write, and do Pilates. I suppose I take the occasional photo, but what good is photography when you have a camera hiding your face?

Scared that I’ll end up being one of those mature women who set up easels and paint a high street, I asked my 600 followers on Instagram what activity they find attractive.

First suggestion. Running. Christ.

Second suggestion. Horse riding. I had lessons with my brother Joe when I was seven. He did something to his horse, which resulted in the horse galloping off. All I saw was my older brother bouncing like a ball on this horse across a field with all the instructors running after him. It put me off for life.

Playing a musical instrument. Only if they like a fumbling introduction to Wake Me Up When September Ends on acoustic guitar. That’s all I’ve got.

Tennis. I can wear the outfit if they want. I can drink squash by the side of the court and giggle. But, I will not attract anyone with my racket skills.

Hiking. I can Hike. Yes. This is doable. I will be like Meredith Blake in The Parent Trap. Maybe not a big incline though. Maybe more of a flat country walk….to a pub.

Chariot racing. If this comes back, I will definitely attract people with my chariot racing. Not to brag, but I would.

What I know I can do confidently today, is watch films. Maybe when I’m watching Gladiator 2 in the cinema, alone, a man will look over the seats, probably see me stuffing popcorn into my mouth…. and be like… “Yes! Her!”

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