‘I’ll come up to north London for our second date, how does that sound?’ Said my date, Jez* as we wandered wonkily towards London Bridge.
Before I could even respond he grabbed my waist for a tipsy snog and I definitely didn’t mind.
The evening had been pretty perfect. Our conversation had been playful, witty and effortless. There was an undeniable spark and we’d already shared a kiss before the last order’s bell had rung out.
After our snog, he ran over to the piano that was sitting pretty at the station and started jamming. I was impressed with his skills.
We then walked hand-in-hand towards the turnstiles and said our goodbyes. ‘I’m in trouble with you,’ he slurred. I asked why, but he didn’t explain.
All in all, you couldn’t want much more from a first date, yet, on the Tube home the first thing I did was check my calendar for the rest of the week: I had three more dates lined up and all with different people.
My plan to go on 30 dates in 30 nights was officially in full swing, and I was loving it.
I never expected to find myself back on the dating scene at age 34, but after filing for a divorce in 2023 here I was.
My husband’s mask had slipped and, with one explosive tirade, our marriage came tumbling down. He admitted that he wasn’t attracted to me, that he’d lied about wanting children – he even told me to go and have a baby with another man.
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I decided to challenge myself to go on 30 dates in 30 nights as a way to force me back into the dating wild
Unsurprisingly then, I filed to be rid of him as quickly as I could.
It was a surreal mix of sadness and relief. But with the help of my friends and family, I slowly got over him.
Then, in the autumn, I decided to challenge myself to go on 30 dates in 30 nights as a way to force me back into the dating wild.
I decided I wanted to put myself out into the dating world during a time when work wasn’t crazy and my social life was calm before it ramped up in November.
The dates didn’t have to run across 30 consecutive nights – instead it went from the end of September to early November – (I might need a night off just for me after all), and I was open to doing 30 first dates, or a mix of first, second and third dates depending on how each meeting went.
When I told my friends my plan there were some mixed reactions to say the least.
Some were thrilled for me, others were dubious; I think mostly they didn’t want me to experience another heartbreak.
Unperturbed by this, I downloaded Hinge for the experiment and very quickly it was clear to me that dating in your mid-thirties is vastly different to your twenties.
I didn’t experience the time wasters or conversation graveyards like I had done years earlier – though that might have had something to do with the older age parameter this time around 35-40.
Certainly, with Jez, we went from matching to planning our first date in a matter of minutes.
In early October I met this cheeky 39-year-old with smouldering hazel eyes outside London Bridge station one Tuesday evening.
After hugging hello, he marched us to a pub along the beer mile where we proceeded to get comfortable beneath the heaters in the garden as he launched into a string of ‘would you rather’ style questions.
‘Lights on or off? Cats or dogs? Beach holiday or city break?’ He rattled off.
These had been clearly designed to weed out the wrong ‘uns, which I respected, so, without thinking, I replied: ‘Leave the lights as they were, both and it depends on the time of year.’
I then changed the subject to my divorce. I wanted to be upfront, but also wanted to avoid the risk of trauma dumping, so I gave him the general story arc.
When I’d finished he asked: ‘How are you so upbeat?’ I simply explained I had processed the breakup and was now moving on. ‘Good for you! Let’s get another round.’ Was his reply.
I didn’t explicitly tell him about my 30 dates in 30 nights challenge, but told him I was spending autumn going on as many dates as possible – to hopefully find a decent guy. He praised my practical approach.
The rest of the evening went by at lightning speed. We kissed, shared photos and tales of flying lessons and Jez was also candid about his dating nightmares.
By the time I left him at London Bridge, a second date certainly seemed to be on the cards, but that changed within a matter of hours.
I woke up the next morning with a rotten hangover but also a text from Jez.
Dating as a thirty-something divorcee was a surprisingly positive experience
‘How many dates do you have lined up this week?’ He wrote. ‘Three.’ I messaged back.
He thought I was joking and then went silent.
The next time I heard from Jez – 10 hours later – was when he texted me to say he’d slept with someone else.
I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at that revelation, but I also had no right to be upset and, to be honest, I wasn’t. Jez, however, completely switched on me after that.
He said that he found my ‘rapid succession of dates’ to be ‘intimidating’ and that he felt we should ‘leave things romantically’ but still wished me the best.
Though I was a bit confused, and could have done without the patronising ‘catch you soon, kid’ at the end of his message, I wasn’t distraught – I still had 29 dates ahead of me after all.
So, I continued my 30-date challenge and I’m so glad I did.
Dating as a thirty-something divorcee was a surprisingly positive experience. I continued to visit various pubs and music venues around London to meet men from all kinds of diverse backgrounds and continents.
Refreshingly too, my dates weren’t daunted by my marital status. One even yelled ‘marry me!’ to which I quipped ‘I’m kind of still married to someone else…’
There were some bumps, of course, one guy belittled me when I declined to go home with him and another ghosted me despite giving me the boyfriend experience across five dates, taking me out for my birthday and calling me a Disney princess. But I never had time to dwell on those for long.
Pretty much every other bloke showed second date potential and, by the time I went on my 30th date in November, I had a newfound confidence.
*Names have been changed for anonymity
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