[Narrator voice] Previously, on my dating diaries, two and a bit weeks ago I wrote about how I was feeling a bit more chill about things. A bit neutral. A bit numb. I’m starting to appreciate that this, whilst evidence of some emotional progress is also probably a side effect of burnout. Considering how many times I’ve cried since I last wrote, how exhausted I feel no matter how much rest I get, how noisy my brain is and how I’m currently finding it so hard to find joy in my favourite things. I’d say your girl is burnt out.

It’s no surprise really. My job is mad, every day is so different and often extremely difficult that it’s near impossible to prepare for what comes our way. The last five months have been significantly harder, for reasons I might talk about at some point. I’ve been pouring myself into the young people I work with, some of the most vulnerable young people in London, maybe even the country, but that cup hasn’t been replenished for a number of factors.

I’ve also overstretched myself with adventures and outings and shenanigans. My plan for 2025 was to say ‘yes’ to more and challenge myself, doing things outside of my comfort zone to make my world bigger. I’d never stopped to consider the emotional energy that would require, resulting in my levels being depleted more than I’ve ever known it.

Then there’s the big D-Word. Dating. This is the year I’ve been the most ‘out there’, where I have consistently tried more than I can ever remember – both in person and through the apps. It also means I’ve faced the most rejections I’ve ever had, be that micro or macro rejections. They’re like bees though, they sting then die. The problem I’m facing is that, should a mystical pair of scales arrive to way up my near-first-half of the year, with good dating experiences on one-side and bad on the other, it’s less a see-saw and more of a catapult with how unevenly weighted it is.

Let’s take the last two weeks for instance.

Following the literal wanker I encountered on Bumble, exactly a week later – near enough to the hour – I matched on Hinge with what seemed like a catch. Both cute and with excellent bio responses, he proclaimed he was on the apps only looking for a life partner and ‘those looking for a short time so not apply’. I was sold. His opening message? A pretty seedy one about my red hair and red lipstick. Disappointing but not irredeemable, maybe he’s just not great at flirting? Throughout what little exchange we then had, I gave him 3 increasingly less subtle chances to shift from objectifying me into actual conversation. But, no. Instead this man wanted to ‘clone me to make more of me’. Sir, why do you need more of me when I’m right here and open? When I put in a boundary, said he was making me a little uncomfortable with the appearance chat and could we move onto something else – he *unmatched* me.

In a similar vein, but in person this time, when at comic con helping my friend Sarah sell her excellent books (all currently 99p on Kindle!) I had several uncomfortable exchanges with men who approached me & utilised flirting styles they must have learned from the manosphere. My least favourite of these exchanges occurred on the Saturday (on Friday I was dressed as Meg from Hercules, the Saturday I was Jessica Rabbit) and it went like this.

[Man approaches the stall]

Me: (Delivers an impeccable pitch for Sarah’s books]

Man: Oh, I don’t care about that. Like, don’t care at all. I’m only here to talk to you. Jessica. Jessica Raaaaabiiit.

Me: Thanks for the compliment, I guess?

Man: (he stares at me)

Man: (he stares some more)

Man: (he walks away)

These exchanges, both in-person and virtual, left me with the same icky feeling. Not only was I objectified by men with zero rizz or chat, it was how both men were unapologetic with it all. I don’t want to be lusted over, I wanted to be loved. The two are not mutually exclusive, from what I gather, but it’s not something I’ve ever really experienced. And I’m finding myself being drained looking for the latter whilst only finding the former.

Of all the cries I’ve had the last fortnight, the most impassioned sob was the night I got home after speaking at a conference. I’d been invited to attend and nailed my briefing interview. I only told a select few friends and family that I was doing it, imposter syndrome rendering me comparatively mute. The conference itself came and went, none of the people I told really asked after it. (This is not an indirect towards those people, I totally get it – I made very little show of it and hid how anxious I was about it!)

However, the night after, I felt myself haunted by a phantom boyfriend. A partner who would have seen how anxious I was that morning, and held me and kissed my forehead. Who would have texted ‘good luck’ beforehand and ‘how did it go?’ after. Who would have surprised me with flowers and takeaway that night, whilst we dissected how it went over glasses of malbec.

Yes, that might be pure idealised fantasy. That a relationship is more than those moments – it’s work and compromise and reality gets in the way. But, I also sort of don’t believe that it’s pure fiction and I don’t think there’s anything wrong in wanting that. If the roles were reversed, I would do that for my person. I do do it for my friends, my love language is acts of service and gifting. Somewhat ironically, consider you’re reading these ramblings, I’m not so great at telling people how I feel about them to their faces. I rely on attentive actions to do the talking for me. My TikTok FYP is littered with thoughtful and romantic acts men across the world have done for their partners, lately it’s been making me sadder than ever that I’ve not got someone doing that for me.

So, what’s the plan moving forward? Pass.

A huge part of who I am is the hope I hold despite all reason. My ability to find joy in the dark moments. My want to keep open to the universe despite it’s disappointments. But is it the definition of madness to keep trying when it’s making me so exhausted? If my inner candle of hope is close to being extinguished, how do I keep trying to fuel it with such limited supply? How do I maintain the flame’s momentum when there feels little reason for it to continue?

Answers on a postcard please.