Kids, in the Autumn of 2021, I was REALLY f***ing tired of people asking me if there was a special man in my life…

I mean, there were PLENTY of special men in my life – my godsons, my fur babies by proxy, my nephews and your godfathers Leon and Tendai. But how the actual f*** did anyone expect me to meet and shag a stranger in the middle of a real life, f***ing pandemic?!

In a world where sanitizing your hands every few minutes, social distancing and donning masks were an everyday reality and the only thing I wanted pumped into me was the vaccine, getting naked with someone else was the last f***ing thing on my to-do list.

When everyone from my beauty therapist to my local Spar teller was asking this ridiculous question, my instinctive, unspoken reply was:

I really didn’t need a reminder that my biological clock was ticking really f***ing loudly because you guys were haunting my dreams ALL of the time anyway.

I was deflecting the best I could by either politely saying there wasn’t a special man in my life or alternatively telling people I was part of a secret sex cult that frowned upon marriage and I was earning my living by lying on my back. Either way, it shut them up really quickly.