#1 "When one door closes, another closet door opens?"

As spring has finally sprung, and the count of date-ready single men is rapidly meeting the current quantity of footballers committing adultery, I sit in solitude in my London poor-excuse-for-a-park thinking back to my last couple of relationships.
Everyone has a handful of cringe worthy boyfriends they’d like to pretend never happened; the one who tried to put his feet way too close to your nether-regions (who’s the wise ass who ok’ed this? Are we considering this foreplay now? Really?), or the one who’s speech barrier (or there lack of) in the bedroom resembled that of Katie Price after one too many bottles of Lambrini.

One door opens when another closes, plenty more fish in the sea blah blah blah. But what if multiple doors (not one, but several) turned out to be a closet? Yes, that’s right ladies and gentlemen, I am the official closet opener, the one before they “found” themselves, the grim reaper of homosexuality.

Four men I’ve had relationships with have turned out gay, three I previously lusted after followed suit, and one who’d claimed to be besotted with me in middle school has pounced out of the closet in full lycra and glitter wearing glory this month (whilst performing his best ‘jazzhands’ on the way out).

I do wonder, am I such a horrific dating experience that I send men running to bat for the other team? Or maybe it really is true that gay men, essentially, are the only male specimens pleasant enough to co-exist with. Maybe next time I’m out I should make a beeline to the first gay bar I see, smile and wave, and hope to god that rules of reverse psychology can also be applied when seeking out a location to find decent men.

But for now, I’m content with dating my man of choice with delicate female features, long hair, and who inevitably, gets called “miss” by the waiter every time we go out.