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'Why I don't care how many women I have to shag to meet The One'

I AM on a journey which is also a quest. And I’m on Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge. Because it does not matter how many women it takes; I will find my soulmate. 

Full-time estate agent, part-time DJ and committed romantic, I know that love is, ultimately, a numbers game. And I am committed to playing those odds with relentless dedication, unending hope and six inches until I meet her.

People say ‘Nathan, aren’t you using women for sex while cloaking it in bullshit about your spiritual destiny?’ No. I, like Sir Galahad, am a knight on a quest for my Holy Grail. A woman kind, beautiful, sexually giving and indiscretion-forgiving.

She is out there. And she could be anywhere. Which is why I must chat up ladies in coffee shops, the Waitrose freezer aisle and at bus stops, driven only by my dream.

Do I occasionally forget names mid-date? Of course. I once called a woman Claire for two weeks before discovering she was actually named Rachel. Which shows I’m not superficial. Who cares for names when I think only of the soul?

Nobody suffers more than I do. The pain of catching a woman’s eye across a vegan smoothie bar, suspecting this is it and then being disappointed happens again and again. I can’t tell you how many I’ve reluctantly had to ghost.

So committed am I to finding my one true love that I have dozens of possible candidates on the go at the same time, terrified of losing out on my forever girl. But always within me burns that flame of hope that keeps me soldiering on.

To all who’ve come before: thank you. You’ve not been stepping stones but educators, preparing me for when I meet the love of my life. You have guided me through tears, tantrums and tantric sex attempts that were derailed when I came.

But when I do meet The One – and I will – I’ll look into her eyes and say: ‘It was worth it. All 408 of them on this annotated spreadsheet. Because they brought me to you.’

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How to care for a friend's Northerner while they're away

A FRIEND is in the Algarve, and you’ve been entrusted with the care of their Northerner. Here’s how to ensure he remains healthily gruff and bitter-supping: 

Prepare suitable accommodation

Contrary to popular supposition, Northerners do not sleep outside. Instead prepare a room with two bunk-beds and a bucket to urinate in, the outside lavatory being too far up the ginnel. Provide a mattress of cobbled linoleum, a tarpaulin and a sack of coal for a pillow. Ensure there are no holes in the sackcloth to arouse carnal temptation.

Feed and water him

Northerners require only three food groups: tea, beer and scran. The first two must be strong and the second served with a choice of red and brown sauces. Fish, chips, fish-and-chips, brawn, scouse and hotpot are all options for meals, as are 12 frozen Iceland Chicken Kievs.

Keep him cold

Hot weather is challenging for the Northerner by reminding him the sky exists. Keep in a small, draughty yard with pigeons, scrubbed daily by a woman in rollers. Hose down with rain every other hour.

Exercise him

Exercise for its own sake is ‘bloody daft’. Instead ride him up a steep cobbled street on a rickety bike at sunrise to deliver a loaf of bread and a quart of goose fat. He may also attempt to mine, which it is wise to allow as stopping him could result in strikes.

Avoid injury

In no circumstances take your Northerner to a hospital, even if he’s lost a limb. He does not ‘hold with’ hospitals. Instead, administer first aid at the scene by disinfecting the wound with tea and bandaging with the shirt sleeve that isn’t used to wipe the nose.

Avoid contact with strangers

Northerners are chatty when roused so be cautious in exposing him to others. Tales of being belted by parents and brawling with livestock are unsuited to company. Under no circumstances allow your Northerner to come into contact with a neighbour’s Northerner or they will instinctively build a den.

Hide sophistication

When asked why you are drinking Vimto out of a puff’s glass, do not explain to your Northerner it is Merlot. That knowledge will confuse him and may infect him with aspirations. Keep him proudly humble. Allowing him to develop a taste for lattes will see him trampled to death in a factory queue by his peers or exiled to moorland.

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