If people wonder why us single boys (who don’t want to be single) give up hope of finding a partner then you just have to look at my dating tragedies to find the answer.

On friday I mustered up the courage to give my number to a guy I’ve seen at the gym for quite some time now. He didn’t call over the weekend and I don’t go to the gym on a Monday. So Tuesday morning comes along and I saw him. He apologised for not calling but he’d been really busy over the weekend. I said “That’s ok, was it a good weekend?” He replied with “I’ve got kids and they managed to break a family heirloom.” Back that shit up sunshine. Kids? I know a lot of gay men have kids, but to casually throw that out there? Not a problem, I can handle kids. Not sure if I want to be a step-homo but we can cross that bridge if it comes along.

Anyway, cut to today. He’s being a bit evasive in the gym so I asked a girl that we both chat to what she knows about him. “He’s got a boyfriend. Sorry.”

Now, excuse my ignorance or naive romanticism, but wouldn’t it have been more prudent to tell me about his boyfriend before the kids info came up? In my little deluded world of happines and labradors I envisage my OWN boyfriend, not borrowing someone elses.