‘Singles ring’ may be way out from dating app hell – but I can’t help feeling it says ‘sad and single’

THE relentless world of modern dating has yet another new kid on the block.

In an attempt to get us off dating apps and into the real world, a company has created a pale green ring you wear to ­signify you are single and open to being approached.

On the face of it, this is a cute idea, because online dating is the hell I never knew I needed.

Around 300million people worldwide have app profiles and a recent study found that four out of five of us feel burnt out by online dating.

I feel less burnt out, more hanged, drawn and quartered.

It’s a system that was originally created to offer people greater connectivity and access to anyone and everyone.

But it has ended up becoming a chaos of catfishing, ghosting and dull text chats that result in nowt more than RSI in my thumbs.

I’m probably a relative virgin having only been operating in this dire process for some two and a half years. But spare a thought for the veterans out there who have been slogging it out for a decade or more.

Despite having my faith and feelings stunted by a system that, in my opinion, no longer works,

I feel compelled to show some interest in this new gadget. (Or con? Or maybe miracle worker?)

It seems like this ring concept is a modern way of bringing tradition back.

The company that makes it (retailing at £19.99) is seemingly trying to reinvent the dating wheel.

They cling on to the belief that meeting people in real life is a far better idea than connecting in some intangible, impersonal ether.

You know, like we used to do in the olden days when you caught a glance of a bloke in a smoky pub which led to a chat, maybe even a snog and hopefully a future date.

Those were the days, when you saw the person, observed them, heard their laughter — maybe even smelled their aftershave as they wafted past.

None of these things are possible online because people always present what they consider to be the best version of themselves.

But you can’t hear their voice and sometimes you don’t even get to see their teeth (crucial for me, I’m afraid, lads).

So, I’m all for us meeting each other in person. It’s what I grew up with. It feels organic and more trustworthy.

But the unavoidable fact is, even if we do meet someone in public, the chances are they are on dating apps too.

They are also playing the ghastly online gapame and already have a pool of options as big as all the oceans of the world put together.

I’m therefore not convinced the success or intensity will be as meaningful as we hope.

People have learnt to become more devious, less trustworthy, less accountable — because, quite frankly, they don’t need to be any more.

But let’s just say you decide to splash out £20, in this cost-of-living crisis, on a pear-coloured ring and stick it on your finger. What does it really say?

I can’t help feeling it says “sad and s­ingle” — “desperate” even.

FEELS NEEDY

For some reason, the words sad and single seem to be inseparable.

I’ve lost count of the number of times people have tried to tell me, in insulting ways, all the reasons why I’m single — as if there is something wrong with me.

People should know that I’m OK with being single because I’m not prepared to put up with men doing the bare minimum.

I’m not interested in men who are vague or are looking over my shoulder to see if something better might come along (it won’t, lads). I’d far rather be single.

The likelihood is that women are ­probably more likely than men to go out wearing this ring of singledom, which inevitably means we fall back into that stereotypical role of making ourselves available to men, which all feels a bit needy.

Also, it puts women in a more submissive position, like we’re powerlessly waiting to be approached by a man.

But by all means, single folk, get ­yourself a ring of desperation.

And if money is tight you could always fashion one out of green elastic bands.

But don’t tie them too tightly because that would bring about a whole different kind of death by dating than the one I’m currently enduring.

Fury's made for each other

CAN’T say I’ll ever tire of seeing how the other half lives.

And new Netflix series At Home With The Furys has been no exception.

Granted, it follows the same formula as other reality shows, with all the inevitable set-up scenes to spark added interest.

But I guess the difference is that in the woke world in which we are now forced to live, there are many aspects about the Furys’ life that won’t sit right with many people.

Tyson hails from a culture of men who are protectors and providers, whose wives stay at home and mind the children and don’t ask too many questions.

From a young age, he has been intent on becoming the world’s best boxer and building a big family with the woman he loves.

He’s a traditionalist – and, some might say, a sexist – who speaks first and sometimes doesn’t even think afterwards.

His saving grace is his wife Paris, who calls him out when he makes politically incorrect comments and she stands her ground.

Those who might look at her and accuse her of letting the feminist side down by staying at home and raising six kids (with another on the way) are wrong.

She does work from time to time but, more importantly, people are all too quick to forget that feminism is about equality and choice.

Women should have the choice to do what they want with their lives.

Some of us like to be independent and go to work. Others like to be homemakers.

I love to work but I also loved raising my family.

Tyson and Paris are perfect for one another because they have an unspoken understanding.

Some of the things he says don’t tally with my mindset but I get how the two of them rely on each other and, to that end, their relationship is a balanced one.

It can’t be easy for anyone making a life with a top sportsman, because of all the sacrifices it requires.

But if someone is willing to make them, then who are we to judge if it’s right or wrong?

I, for one, couldn’t imagine either of them being with anyone else.
They are meant to be.

A sign of the times

AS someone who is always late to the party, I hadn’t really heard about “burnt toast theory”.

Apparently it goes along the lines of: If you blacken your toast in the morning while getting ready for work, and it adds five to ten minutes extra to your journey, it could be saving you from something catastrophic – a greater mishap, an accident or a disaster.

Or, of course, you could just see the dead toast as a result of distraction and a bit of bad luck.

But nowadays, TikTokers have to read something into everything.

One self-confessed anxious influencer has gone viral by coming to the profound realisation that burnt toast has forced her to “accept” the things she cannot control.

Really, it’s not that deep, love. You just left the bread in the toaster a bit too long.

Back in the real world, early on Tuesday I came downstairs to find a dead bird next to the dog’s water bowl outside my back door.

I’ve had time since then to give some really deep, philosophical thought to what the universe is trying to tell me by sending me a dead animal.

It definitely was not that the bird didn’t see the glass on my back door and flew straight into it.

But I think it was a real sign that I need to “live life one breath at a time and be an infectious light of love and joy”.

Follow me for more daily inspiration.

I hope Laura can do the distance in love

I’VE always liked former Love Islander Laura Anderson.

She seemed like a decent girl, but was so painfully rejected by cheat Wes Nelson. But anyway.

Last year, she went on Celebs Go Dating and got loved up with actor Gary Lucy, who already has four kids, and before you could say “It is what it is,” she had a bun in the oven.

Shortly afterwards the couple split, much to everyone’s surprise.

Now, in the last ­stages of pregnancy, it appears they may have reunited. If it’s true, I’m pleased for her.

Laura is a tough, independent cookie. But it’s no fun being pregnant on your own, no matter how capable you are.

All I know is that a newborn baby is one of the toughest things to experience.

It’s a pressure cooker of sleepless nights, baby sick, stinky n­appies and a gradual erosion of patience and energy.

But if they can get through that, then perhaps they can go the distance. I wish them the best of luck.