How My Pets Keep Me Single

There’s no doubt that being single and over 40 is a difficult place to be. Add to that an independent mind and a “girl power” attitude is it any wonder I’ve been single for a while? I didn’t though expect to have the further handicap of my pets and their efforts, not always accidental, to keep me home.

Dating as a pet owner is even more difficult that dating as a single parent. Most men can grasp the idea that a child suddenly being sick or going missing means you’re not going on the date. However, explaining that you need to be home to hold a cold cloth against the forehead of your dog really doesn’t go down well. Although some men show an interest in my dog chains and leather goods, it seems that is more on the basis of bondage fantasies than admiration of my dog training abilities. In fact if a date is flagging I find that mentioning the thickness of my leather training lead and tightness of collars can perk them up no end!

I went back to Internet dating as I don’t get out much and I like the idea of being able to send them my “are you suitable?” quiz first. It is so easy for them to email their bank statements and references and saves so much time. How wonderful is the electronic age. Once they pass the test, then we can arrange a date.

A series of disasters ruined my first date in weeks. Well ok months, but that’s too depressing to admit to. It started with an afternoon of clothes trying on. This brought to my attention various ploys on the part of my cats to ruin my chances. My first choice of revealing blouse was more revealing than I remember. This is because it now had two extra slits down the front. Although strategically placed which I’d like to think was the cats showing some sense of decorum it really would not have sent the right message.

My second choice was a sexy black number. It now was black with splashes of yellow, mustard and green on the shoulder. This turned out not to be the remains of an old flower as I first hoped but cat sick. So I was left with a dress I don’t much like but vaguely suited me and had just the right level of body reveal without seeming cheap or too eager or desperate. I am all of those but they need to learn that slowly.

I drowned myself in perfume to go to the date which turned out to be a bad move. My olfactory senses were dulled by the expensive stuff I’d sprayed in the hope of seeming classy and elegant. Once seated with a lovely wine and a slightly stupid expression on my face (not deliberately stupid, it’s my attempt at sexy but apparently makes me look in need of help) a smell kept wafting over me.

The smell was vaguely familiar but I tried to ignore it as even I knew that referring to bad smells was not in the “how to get a second date” rules. Once the man went to use the bathroom I got my chance. I inspected by nose each bit of my dress I could reach. A man at the next table asked if I needed some fresh air to stop me feeling sick. I said no and that I’d lost a contact lens. At this point I squinted convincingly as I have no idea what it’s like to lose a lens. Realising the date would be coming back I pretended to find the lens and put it back in. The man looked horrified and I realised he thought I’d just put a dirty lens back into my eye.

“It’s ok,” I muttered, “they’re self cleaning”

Date now returns to find me looking uncomfortable and a man staring at me from the next table. Trying not to laugh I suggested we went to another bar. As I bent to pick up my bag, I found the source of the smell. Round the bottom of my dress was a patch of cat pee that nearly anaesthetised me. We had one more drink then I couldn’t stand it any more. As in all the best journalistic situations, I made my excuses and left.

Note to self: Either buy a serious lock for my wardrobe or buy another house for my clothes.