Author Archives: HopefulGirl

‘Honestly, HopefulGirl, my problem isn’t that I have issues around dating – it’s that I never meet any single Christian men,’ a reader told me. ‘I’m starting to believe they’re mythical creatures, like unicorns!’

‘I meet girls at work and through friends, but never any that share my faith,’ said a guy online. ‘There’s only one single lady at my church, and she’s nearly 80!’

“Ooh, HopefulGirl,” said a woman at my church, bustling over after communion. “Who was that good-looking young man I saw you with at the All Souls service? I couldn’t help noticing he had his arm around you. He was so dishy. Anything you want to share?”

‘I just don’t get it, HopefulGirl,’ said a friend over coffee after church one Sunday. ‘My non-Christian friends are all happily falling in love, getting married and having kids. Meanwhile, many of my Christian friends seem stuck in perpetual singledom. What’s going on?’

Browsing the messages in my dating website inbox, I opened one from a new chap – and was taken aback by his opening line. ‘Dear HopefulGirl,’ he wrote. ‘Your profile leaves a lot to be desired.’

‘Crumbs,’ I thought, ‘that’s a bit harsh! Why email me just to tell me that?!’

‘I don’t know what to make of it, HopefulGirl,’ said the email. ‘I’ve been chatting to this lovely man online every day for months now, and he seems keen on me – but whenever I suggest meeting up, he finds an excuse not to. What’s going on?’

Last month, I spelled out the mistakes guys make at singles events. But we ladies often do ourselves no favours, either. We arrive in packs, spend the evening chatting to each other, shy away from making eye contact with the men, reject the ice-breaker games as naff – and then head home complaining that nobody spoke to us!

As I entered the singles party, I felt that familiar spark of hope that tonight might be the night I’d meet Mr Right. But as I looked around, my heart sank a little. You know the phrase ‘a face like an unmade bed’? Well, this was like walking into a ward of unmade beds. A row of scruffy, paunchy, dejected-looking men gazed back at me with dull eyes. ‘Looks aren’t everything,’ I thought. ‘But seriously, gentlemen, if you’re looking for a wife, it wouldn’t hurt to run an iron over your shirt and drag a comb through your hair.’

The message in my inbox was brief and to the point: ‘Hi HopefulGirl. Would you like to meet for coffee?’ I browsed the sender’s profile. We clearly weren’t a match, plus he lived 200 miles away and was far too old for me. So I thanked him warmly but declined, wishing him well in his search for love.