Once the move to London was complete I decided it was time to try and find myself a man. (Easier send than done) so Tinder, Happn, Plenty of Fish and various other dating APPs were downloaded and ready to run.

Note well girlies; I DO NOT recommend these dating apps if you are looking for a serious relationship or ‘The One’; they can be downloaded for free and far too easy to use. I mean, I play on them when I’m bored and have nothing else to do and I’m pretty sure it the same for the guys who use them. Because they are far too easy to use,they attract all manner of arseholes. But if you’re just looking to meet new people, have a few drinks and check out your neighbours then go for it!

If you really are looking for a future husband, I’d probably suggest that you hang around places where the nice boys congregate: the local pub on quiz night, art galleries, church etc

I’m a fairly bitter and twisted individual to start with; not in general (I’m lovely) just bitter and twisted when it comes to dating. As a child, my mother left me with Disney videos as my babysitter one too many times. I absorbed their saccharine sweet message which has meant that I have been trodden on by far too many beasts and kissed too many frogs; neither the beasts or the frogs have magically ever transformed into Prince Charming. Now I don’t even bother looking. Prince Charming is much like the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy: cute but imaginary. I’m Cruella De Ville these days and whilst I’m not yet at the puppy killing stage quite yet, given time I’m sure I’ll get there. I fully support Cruella’s outlook; give me a expensive fur coat over a man any day.  Despite me not believing that my dream guy is out there, it doesn’t stop me from having a list of qualities I’d like him to have. The list is not exhaustive and it’s prone to changing occasionally but as a rule, these are a few of my favourite things and I’m not talking about, ‘raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.’

1.My ideal man would be tall, well-built and masculine. (Ideally in proportion everywhere (aherm) please. Oh who am I kidding, you HAVE to be in proportion everywhere. Some women don’t mind: sorry but I’m not one of them). If you spray tan, wax your chest or spend more time doing your hair than me, I’m afraid we can’t be friends. If you go the gym in a low cut vest to show off a cleavage better than my own and then spend the entire session taking selfies of yourself in the mirror we definitely can’t be friends. If you have a sleeve tattoo with David Beckham clouds and turn up the sleeves of your t-shirt to show your tiny arm muscles of then, we definitely and most certainly can’t be friends. Please find a lady with fewer brain cells than I and date her instead.

I like my men large and a bit unrefined in their appearance. Now that doesn’t mean you can look like you’ve crawled out of a cave after living there for the last six months. Unrefined does not equate with looking homeless. Tailored suits, brogues, smelling good (Tom Ford: Neroli Portofino is like heaven for the nostrils) nice watches all are bonuses. Fake tan, waxing, using excessive hair products is just taking it too far. If you haven’t shaved for a day, that’s perfect. Or if you’ve got a bit of dirt under finger nails from rolling round with a rugby or football at the weekend that’s fine too; In fact it just makes that Mont Blanc pen you’re holding look better.

2. ‘Posh boy’ accents. If there’s a bit of a cockney twang in there as well, I’m sorry but we are getting married immediately. Both of these accents are in abundance in this fine city. Praise Jesus. Halleluiah. Maybe it’s my attraction to these accents which is one of the reasons which brought me to the capital.

3. Legs: men’s thighs and calves are massively underrated; give me a man with big, strong, muscular thighs over anyone with abs any day of the week. There is nothing worse when you see a guy whom you thought might have had potential in his shorts/pants/swimming trunks for the first time and his thighs are smaller than yours. It’s the man equivalent of ordering a fillet steak and champagne in a restaurant and then the waitress bringing you out a salad and a glass of water and telling you that’s all you’re getting. The thigh thing may also be due to the fact that mine own are fairly large and quite frankly, it’s depressing and heart-breaking being 5’1’’ and the one with the wider thighs. Guys please, please, please do not swerve leg day.

There was one fairly nondescript guy who I went on a date with last December who keep on telling me, I had, “beasty thighs and would make a good prop forward” whilst at the same time he kept groping my legs. Needless to say I didn’t see him again. Maybe I should have kicked him in the head then perhaps he would have got a real feel for how ‘beasty’ my thighs are. Arsehole.

4. Being a gentleman (well in public anyway if you get my drift) I want a man to come out of his way to pick me up, kiss me on the cheek, open doors, ask me what I’m drinking. And yes I know I sound like a spoilt bitch but I really do want you to pay on the first date, even if I offer to split it. I also want to be told what to do. ‘Give me your number’, ‘meet me at Hakkasan at eight on Friday, we have a table booked under George’. Order my food for me. Pour my wine. I know you might not be Prince Charming but I still want to be treated like a princess. OK? This may not be everyone’s cup of tea I know, some women may be screaming at their computer right now saying. ‘Pouring the wine and ordering for me is not being a gentleman it’s arrogance’. Perhaps it is but I couldn’t think of anything worse than a pushover. I like a degree of arrogance in my men, probably why I find people like Jonathan Ross and Gordon Ramsey sexy. I need and want an alpha.

5. Finally I enjoy being challenged intellectually. I know guys generally aren’t as smart as us girls. But you can get one or two who aren’t too ridiculously dumb, dense or ignorant. One time I was messaging a guy through a dating app, he made a comment to which I replied, ‘was that a euphemism?’. Only for him to ask what ‘a euphemism’ was. That’s just not going to work long term. Especially if we breed. With my genes our kids are going to be smarter than you by the time they are six, we might as well call it a day now. A sense of humour is also important. No good being intelligent if you’re like Dustin Hoffman out of ‘Rain Man’. So yeah I want one of those smart funny guys please. A bit of self-depreciating humour as well; not humour at my or others’ expense. Kind of like Chandler from friends or my man, Tyrion Lannister.

But there is the non-exhaustive list. The one I have in the back of my mind before any dates. Put them all together you probably end up with Daniel Craig as Bond and yes he’d be ideal if he (a) was real (b) placed slightly lower on the psychopathic spectrum.

Then after only a couple of weeks in London, swiping away on Tinder I found him…

Ex-Cambridge, rugby playing trader, 6’3’’, scholarship kid to a private school (so lacks the arrogance and lack of humanity of many of the ones brought up with money), funny, classy and THE accent. Honestly, thought I’d hit the man jackpot when he asked me out for a date after chatting online for a bit. So that brings me to, The Trader…