Oh boy, did I feel crap last week. Awful, dejected and so so low. Today? Not so much. I feel lighter and freer, open the possibilities and wonder of life. That’s because I had a date yesterday (one of my postponed Breeze dates, the other had cancelled) and my date with R was just so…

Fine.

Totally, inoffensively fine. We did three rounds of drinks (a first date record for me this year, so far) in the generically inoffensive Shoreditch bar we had been assigned by Breeze. Conversation flowed reasonably easy, the two hours didn’t drag and we left things amicably enough. But I couldn’t work out why it hadn’t clicked. Where we somehow simultaneously too similar (creative types who like adventure with a bit of an introverted streak) and yet too different (his job is computer-focused, and I think that tells you more than enough detail). He had been attractive-ish, not offensive – maybe a grower not a show-er? He had talked about money a fair bit and came across as stingy rather than generous. He’d proposed the second round by saying ‘Do you want to buy these or shall I?’ (I know right, swoon city!) and didn’t push to split the bill more evenly for his more-expensive-than-mine drinks. He’d also arrived first and nabbed the sofa, didn’t make any moves to offer it to me and so I spent two hours sat on the world’s smallest stool. As my arse is as impressive as my writing ability, I was far from comfortable. But he had asked questions and seemed interested enough in our conversations. Maybe he was nervous rather than as socially awkward as his turns of phrase implied? Maybe it wasn’t that weird he talked about ‘girls’ profiles? Maybe it wasn’t a bit of an eyebrow raise that when I talked about some of the creeps at comic-con he responded with ‘well, it would have been different if they were conventionally attractive?’

A couple of hours after we went our separate ways (no kissing had occurred)Breeze pinged with the post-date feedback survey. Despite myself I clicked the ‘share my phone number’ option. As soon as I submitted it, I regretted it and was mentally drafting a ‘you seem so nice, but maybe this is just platonic’ message.

I needn’t have worried, as I woke up this morning to the notification that R had declined the offer to swap numbers. The worry was needless, R did not want to see me again.

It would be a lie to say it didn’t sting a little and my ego isn’t a little bruised too. He didn’t want to see me again? All of this wit, charm and warmth? Did he not know how lucky he was I’d even considered a second date, despite myself? IN HIS DREAMS BABY.

That train of thought terminated pretty quickly when I realised two things. 1) We had clearly felt the same way about things and he had been more sensible than me in cutting it off immediately, where my decision would have needlessly dragged things out. 2) I finally realised why I had been so unaffected by the date.

He hadn’t made me laugh the entire date. Not at all. Not once.

I am a generous laugher, with a sense of humour that alternates between teenage boy and a pun-obsessed grandad. I also laugh with my entire body, when something tickles me – I am gooooneee. A witty back-and-forth is my love language, something I blame Gilmore Girls for entirely. My dad calls it my ‘dolphin talk’ where I communicate in rapid fire interjections. If we’re spending time together and that’s how we’re interacting, best believe that I feel my most safe and loved in that moment. I probably adore you.

For R not to have made me laugh for the 120 minutes of our date? Truly an unforgivable offence. And once that clicked in, other thoughts did too. I thought about how often I make myself laugh, and how much joy I get from making others laugh. My favourite thing is a call-back and, if we have a recurring in-joke, I’m a goner. I have a wonderful network of friends and family who make me guffaw, snort and howl with laughter. And, right now, I have no want or desire to risk giving up a night of laughter for a date that might be awful or where the better outcome is ‘we chatted but I didn’t laugh’.

At some point, I acknowledge, I will have to try again to meet people and risk it. But not right now. Not for June at least. Because, whilst I will never see or speak to R again, I did get something valuable from that date. It’s not just me. 2025 on the apps has been an awful time for me, I’ve been disappointed and hurt more times than I care to recall. It really felt like it was all me and that I was awful. There must be something wrong with me. But yesterday, despite feeling low, I still showed up and put the energy out there I wanted. There won’t be a second date, but I didn’t want there to be – we simply were not compatible.

I have been freed by this revelation. And I know that because today I:

• Stopped by a beautians for a skincare consultation, as I want to feel more confident in my skin.
• Spent an hour ordering essentials from Boots that I’ve been putting off for ages.
• Picked up my shirt and number for a 10k funrun happening this Sunday.
• Came home and mopped my floors and organised some long-overdue admin.

These are acts of love. For myself. Mind, body and spirit. For reasons that are totally understandable, I’ve been in freeze mode – and I think I hoped for someone to come and defrost me. But the only person who can do that I myself – so that’s who I’m going to date for now. I’m going to focus on finding the love within myself that I’ve been trying to find and earn from others for the first 153 days of this year.

I’m off the apps for now. Maybe for a month, there’s no hard and fast rule – more when I know within myself that I’m not looking for a dopamine hit or a void fill. But right now, I don’t have want or capacity for endless swipping and awful messaging.

I’ve got a couple of singles events booked in and I won’t cancel them, but I’m treating them as outings rather than the ‘oh my god, I might meet someone wonderful tonight!!!!’ energy that I just can’t work up right now. I will go, stay as little as long as I like, do or don’t speak to whomever I want and bugger off when I want. After the creeps from both comic-con and the apps, I have a genuine suspicion I might just bark at the next unwanted approach I receive.

This year I stopped looking after the true love of my life, myself.

I got real lost, and now I’m working my way back to finding my centre.

It’s about time I say that I love me.