All of the city and none of the sex...  

  • When I first moved to London, a bright eyed and naïve eighteen year old, I genuinely believed the streets would be paved with eligible bachelors, just waiting to woo me into amorous clinches in Regents Park and romantic, Autumnal strolls down the South Bank.


    However, I also believed Nandos to be the home of authentic, first class Portuguese cuisine. It transpired I was wrong on both counts.


    Now four years, numerous drunken dalliances, two long term relationships and one drawn out, gut wrenching break up later, I find myself resolutely single and plunging head first into a life of premature spinsterdom.
    At 21, you'd think I was too young to be living out the maudlin life of Bridget Jones, but I was pulling a pretty good impression of it – ricocheting between drunken nights out, desperately screeching 'Young Hearts Run Free', and days spent in bed mourning the loss of a man who, realistically, was as useful and toxic as a gangrene ridden appendage. Something had to give, I was one Chaka Khan karaoke rendition away from  drying up all together, which would be a crying shame.
    Which is exactly why, when TNT approached me to write this column about the London dating scene, it could not have come at a better time. With thousands of single men in London, there is really no excuse for me to be moping around, crying in to my Primark onesie. No, like a sexual matador, I must grab the bull by its proverbial horns and throw myself in to the treacherous yet plentiful world of dating in London. I will no doubt encounter numerous tossers and perverts along my quest, and will, more than likely, ultimately die alone, but I'm doing it – purely for your entertainment. And, I'll admit, in the vain hope of getting laid this side of Christmas.