Emmaprovement Continues...

I hate the doctor. All that poking and prodding, the invasive questions about my lifestyle, the nerves when waiting for results. So imagine my horror when someone in the office suggested I make an appointment with the Date Doctor.

Sure, I've been single for a hundred years, but, you know, I'm "single by choice". Cue UJ's Simon O'Connell saying: "Yeah, his choice" under his breath. I kicked him.

So, yeah, I'm a bit violent. I have some issues. I can't remember the last time I went out with someone for more that ten dates. I mean, I have a huge fan base among the street-sweeper, minicab driver, chippie-seller and rough sleeper populations of London, but put me across the table from someone pretty great, and I'll find a way to screw it up.

Reading through the Date Doctor's website site, I get a little alarmed. I have EVERY problem listed. Clearly, I'm going to end up alone with a house that smells like cat wee. So I make an appointment. Then cancel. Then, yesterday, I finally met up with Sam van Rood, the Date Doctor.

After some initial awkwardness (oh shit, he's fit. Should I be flirting with him to show him my supreme pulling skills? Oh, a ring. The date doctor is MARRIED) we settle down to discuss my relationship history, what I'm looking for in a partner and how I attract the men that I fancy.

Seemingly, I'm not as whacked as I thought. My fan club is probably more because I'm Canadian and therefore overly friendly, and some men read friendly as available.

My real problems seem to be three-fold. First is Shopping - seemingly Prince Charming isn't going to show up at a gay bar, the UJ office or my living room. I've got to get out there more and take dating more seriously, instead of constantly cancelling.