The older I get, the more stuck in my ways I become, the more weight I put on, and the more I wonder what would happen if I were to end up divorced, like many of my middle-aged brethren.

I have one such friend who, after a lifetime of monogamy and domestication, recently found himself at ground zero, relationship wise. Believing he would instead ‘find himself again’ through the medium of learning a language, travelling, or becoming a back garden horticulturalist, he has surprised us all by joining a baker’s dozen of dating apps and behaving, successfully, as the local Ron Jeremy on acid.

If he goes more than a few days without a date with an attractive middle-aged divorcee he starts to get withdrawal symptoms, which results in him deep cleaning his car to within an inch of his life. It was with him I mind that I recently read the survey findings from the POM online dating app, who undertook a study to ascertain the top ten ‘icks’ (dislikes apparently: thanks once again General Google) to see how many ick boxes, if I ever am forced to enter the game, I would tick.

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At number 10, I was straight in with a huge, fat, affirmative: people who wear their face coverings under their noses. This could be changed to ‘people who wear glasses’ as, no matter what, if the full breathing apparatus is covered, you end up walking half blind in a misty haze.

Continuing where I left off, I was again guilty of number 9: singing the wrong lyrics, as it's true, every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you, as I watch the dancing queen feeling the beat from the tangerine.

My utter failure continued to number 8, kind of, with people getting food stuck in their teeth. Thankfully I have few left now as I look more redneck hick by the day courtesy of a lifetime of sugar overload.

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But then, suddenly, along came numbers 7 and 6: ‘Dirty or unpainted nails’ and ‘wearing gym clothes to a date’. I no longer have nails having bitten them off through the stress of teaching, and I don’t date, hence am exempt.

Five was a humungous tick: ‘Laughing at my own jokes when no one else does’, as was four: ‘Speaking in slang’, which isn’t as Eartha as one might imagine

I believe everyone is guilty of number three: ‘Commenting on celebrities' social media posts’, and why shouldn’t we also have an opinion?

Number two was the first one I agree with, and it would put me off: it is folk who ‘refuse’ to learn how to drive.

And so, we get to number one: having failed on the majority of the icks, thus rendering me as one of the true undateables, I was hoping that the top irritant would not be mine to claim, but how wrong I was. It is ‘owning an Android phone’. Now technically, as I write this, I don’t own one: however, having had one for donkey’s years, I was recently gifted an iPhone 11. Six weeks in, and I still can’t get used to the overhyped, oversized piece of tech. It's clunky, irritating, as ergonomic as trying to undo a nut with a grape, and I am in the throes of cashing in and getting myself a nice new Galaxy S20 instead.

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So, on the ick chart I score very low and will, thankfully, be left on the shelf should the wife have enough of me (which is a point we may have reached decades ago but she’s a trier, bless her). Come what may, I continue to stand proud, and loud, as I flash my Galaxy at all and sundry as I laugh hysterically at myself behind my semi face mask and fly the flag for the glorious undateables.

  • Brett Ellis is a teacher