Dating in the Countryside: A Comedy of Errors

My dating life? A joke. Being a woman in her mid-twenties looking for a relationship is hard. Doing it in the countryside? Even harder.

I used to think indecisiveness was a female stereotype. Turns out, the coin has flipped. The men I’ve met don’t know what they want, or worse, they change their minds without warning.

This year alone, I’ve “dated” (and I use that term loosely) five men. Different backgrounds, careers, ages ranging from 25 to 35. The one thing they all had in common. Indecisiveness.

So, is it me? Am I the common denominator? Possibly. But maybe it’s them.

I’ve followed all the dating advice: “Keep an open mind,” “Opposites attract,” “Find someone you have things in common with.” I did all that. I hit it off with each of them, until I didn’t. Or rather, until they didn’t.

And don’t get me started on the worst advice of all: “It’ll happen when you least expect it.” I wasn’t looking for years, and guess what? It didn’t happen. Not once. And honestly, I was fine with that. I enjoyed my single life: freedom, peace, no drama. I wasn’t dishonest about it either. I had flings, friendships, and fun, but I was clear: I wasn’t ready for anything serious.

Then I turned 25. Something shifted. I wanted more. Sad to say, I was in a two-year drought. So, I put myself out there again. I had fun. Until it turned into a catastrophe wrapped in a web of lies. But that wasn’t dating. That was me jumping back on the wagon.

Eventually, I went on a few dates with someone. No spark, no match. I told him honestly because I was finally ready for something serious. Why pretend otherwise?

Then came the new year. New Year, New Me. I quit smoking, lost four stone, and felt incredible. I was ready to share my life with someone. Yes, I had my preferences, who doesn’t? But I was open-minded.

And so began the parade of men.

The Men

The Farmer
Nice guy, cute, good conversation. We dated for a month and even made it to the third date. I felt confident, maybe naïve. After that third date? Poof. Ghosted. I called him out (politely, of course). His response? “I’m not on the same level as you.” I thought I’d been clear about my intentions. Apparently not.

The Biker
A townie. He liked new builds; I liked old ones. He drove a white BMW; I preferred muddy country lanes. But he was nerdy. Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, and he had a bike. We connected. The only issue? An 80-minute drive. He said it wasn’t a problem. Two months and a few dates later, it was. On the day he was supposed to visit: “I really like you, but I don’t think I can do the commute.” And that was that.

Jesus
We didn’t date. We played. It was more of an open relationship. I learned a lot. Mainly: open relationships aren’t for me. I get the appeal, but they’re harder in reality. I learned to communicate better and be honest with myself. We wanted similar things, just not with each other.

The Van Man
Quick to ask for a date, loved that. He seemed to know what he wanted, loved that even more. We had things in common, great conversation, phone calls, and mutual respect for each other’s time. It lasted nearly three months. Then the messages slowed. From chatting all day to a few small-talk texts. I called him out (again, politely). His reply? “I don’t have time for a relationship right now.”

And finally, the catalyst for this entire rant.

The Dream Guy
Technically, we didn’t date. But he was the cherry on top. An archaeologist, fellow history nerd, lover of old towns and churches. He knew more about Lord of the Rings than I did. He read as much as I do. Our conversations were endless; five threads going at once. We talked about everything: relationships, life, history. It was effortless. We planned a date. Four days before? “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t want a relationship.” A knife to the heart. Like dangling a juicy bone in front of a dog. Forever out of reach.

The Aftermath

Failure after failure. Joke after joke. But no man in sight.

I’ve lost faith. In love, in honest men. Am I the only one who experiences this constant rejection? The lack of honesty? Am I the only one sick of hearing “It’ll find you when you least expect it”?

Why can’t men just say, “I’m not feeling it”? That, I can respect.

All I can do now is laugh. Laugh at how my love life is the weekly entertainment for my friends. Laugh at the impending spinsterhood creeping up on me.

I’m 26. And I’ve lost all faith in men. Maybe it’s me. But what can I do?

Despite the disappointments, the ghosting’s, and the endless parade of mixed signals, I haven’t given up entirely, just recalibrated my approach. I’ve deleted the dating apps, not because I’ve stopped wanting a relationship, but because I’m tired of chasing something that feels more like a game than genuine connection. Maybe love isn’t hiding behind a swipe or waiting in a quaint village pub. Maybe it’s somewhere unexpected, or maybe it’s just not my season yet. Either way, I’ve learned to laugh through the chaos, cherish my independence, and keep showing up as my authentic self. Because if nothing else, at least my love life makes for a great story. And one day, maybe it’ll have a better ending.