Single because... I’m too picky

Gemma Soames, 29, journalist

When my last boyfriend and I broke up, I knew that he would be happily shacked up again within a couple of months, and that I would most probably be single for about another six years. Six months down the line and, so far, so prescient. While he nests in rural bliss with his new girlfriend, I am drowning in the shallows of mysinglefriend.com, being propositioned by two Pauls and four Richards — one of whom also goes by the alias “the Jaegermeister”, and none of whom I can quite bring myself to actually meet.

I am one of those people who is single more often that not. Always have been. Yet, in spite of people’s protestations — and “You can’t possibly be single” really is up there in the annoying stakes. For starters, what is one meant to reply? “Because the world is mad”? — the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend isn’t surprising at all. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. Because my kind of boyfriend is really hard to come by.

He needs to be (just) tall enough. And (just about) good-looking enough (but not so much so that I exist as the B-side to his fabulous, good-looking life). Then we need to factor in successful, solvent and driven. But (and this is where it tends to get tricky) he also needs to be long on genuinely good jokes, with a decent sideline in bad ones that only I find funny. He needs to speak good restaurant, to have no special dietary requirements and to always be discerning without ever being fussy. He needs to have never — not even for one drunk minute — sported directional facial hair. He needs to appreciate that a Dutch accent is hilarious. And he needs to be clever without ever making me feel stupid.

He needs to “get” but not “know” fashion. He needs to look like he moisturises, but have never actually done so, and be ready to look after me, yet totally let me get on with looking after myself. He needs to not own one single pair of side-buckle shoes. Or appear to use hair products. He needs to be brave enough to meet my sister, and to be able to say “Screw it. Let’s treat ourselves and go to Paris” without ever seeming one bit too flashy. And, when he’s around, he needs to be the only person in the room I’m really interested in talking to. And that, I fear, is the edited list.

My friend Jessie once pointed out to me — as I complained, again, that someone wasn’t quite right — that being so picky might not be the best idea. “Babe, you’re not Gisele” is how she broke the news. And she has a point. But this is how it is. I am picky, and I’m not prepared to compromise. I’d rather eat wasps than share my Sunday-night sushi with a man who wears tomato-coloured trousers.

I’m sure that, one day, my list will be whittled down by real life to “human and dog-loving”. And I may well end up happy with an unemployed, side-buckle-shoe-wearing, shea-buttered-up hair-gel aficionado. For now, though I’m holding fast. Because, from where I’m standing, settling for anything less just doesn’t seem an option. And I have a sneaking suspicion that he might be worth the wait.

Single because... I am too independent

Edwina Ings-Chambers, 39, beauty director

Why am I single? Oh, you sound just like my mother. And yes, okay, maybe the fact that I have a tendency to prevaricate is a small part of the reason. Mostly, though, I think I’m single because I’m not bothered about being part of A Couple.

I don’t mind going through the mundanities of life on my own; in fact, I prefer doing the supermarket sweep on my tod, rather than turning every domestic chore into proof that I’m part of a bigger picture. I come from a large family, so I already know that I’m part of something greater than myself. And I like being able to organise myself without recourse to anyone else. Flying solo may mean I have all the pressure, but it also means I have all the freedom.

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