The Sunday Times - UK (2022-05-29)

There are about four million men in

London. I would estimate, with some

very quick research, that about one

million of them are single. Of that one

million, I think about 300,000 say they’re

single, but they’re not single and actually

have been “casually seeing” a nice,

cavapoo-owning woman called Sophie

for 18 months; 150,000 of them will be

out of your age bracket; 100,000 will say

things are “too hectic at work” to text you

back, but find the time to post Elon Musk memes on

Instagram Stories. About 75 of them won’t be on dating

apps. Basically what I’m saying is that leaves about 50

men to date, so I don’t think the odds of accidentally

dating two friends are that crazy.

When I read your letter my overwhelming urge is to

find you and give you a very very very big hug. Because all

I can see in every one of your sentences is shame. Shame

for your former single life, for dating, for being sexual,

shame for your secret and shame for who you think you

are. It is something I, along with every woman I know,

have felt. It begins in girlhood and lives deep within us. It

grows in small moments — when a one-night stand

spreads a rumour about you, when a catcaller calls you a

slut, when your parents let your brother’s girlfriend share

a bed with him when he visits home but your boyfriend

is banished to the guest room. And shame grows in daily

collective experiences of womanhood too — when you

have to justify taking the morning-after pill. When you

can’t find menstrual products that aren’t heavily scented

with perfume. When legislation threatens to take away

decision-making about your own body.

So many women I know feel shame. Hidden and

historic, until it comes out in the strangest ways as we

get older. Your fear of your boyfriend leaving you is a fear

that he will think you are promiscuous. But why is that

a responsibility you should have to carry? You are a single

person who had a sexual connection with another

single person. It was consensual and, I’m sure at some Alexandra Cameron

point, brought you pleasure. You didn’t

know your boyfriend even existed. You’ve

done nothing wrong.

I often look to men in the public eye for

inspiration on how to live without shame.

The married political figure whose role is

under intense scrutiny yet apparently still

has the time for several girlfriends. The

millionaire who was unapologetic about

his S&M orgy when it ended up in a news-

paper. The fraudster stockbroker who went

to jail before Leonardo DiCaprio played him in a film

about his career. Honestly, it fills me with both bewilder-

ment and awe. Imagine having that much faith in your

own inherent goodness. Imagine being that sure you were

never going to get found out. Imagine it. I still find myself

occasionally unable to sleep when I think about a man

I sent flirty texts to ten years ago who had a girlfriend.

You should not be living in fear. You shouldn’t feel like

you’re on the run. I’ll say it again: you’ve done nothing

wrong. I know you must feel like his friend has a piece of

you — like he has stolen something from you that

shouldn’t be his. But if he’s a normal human he will know

the silent pact that’s agreed when two people exchange

sexy texts or photos, which is that it’s private and

specific to its context.

You have nothing to be ashamed of. At worst it is very

awkward. But that’s all. You’re an adult, so is your

boyfriend, so is his friend — you all have a history, you

can all move past awkwardness. And if he can’t, he’s not

the sort of man you’d want to be with anyway.

The best way to deal with shame is to heave it out of

yourself like that yoga mat you keep buried at the back

of the cupboard. Tell him. Bring it into the light and

you’ll realise there was nothing to hide. It doesn’t

matter how perfect you try to be, there’s no circum-

venting the random shambles of life — the strange

connections, the ghosts of yesteryear, the surprising

twists. So you may as well laugh about them, preferably

with the people you love. ■

Your love, life and friendship dilemmas answered

by Dolly Alderton

Dear Dolly

To get your life dilemma answered by Dolly, email or send a voice note

to [email protected] or DM @theststyle

I have started dating a guy I met on Hinge who is really nice and a real gentleman. After a few

dates I realised that one of his close friends is a guy who I went on a date with last year but have

occasionally since sent risqué texts back and forth with. Do I bring up the fact I dated his friend

or wait for it to come up in conversation? I am also mortified at my error in judgment — I sent

the friend risqué photos that he might have saved. I am so worried that my boyfriend will think

differently of me and end things. It seems unlucky that out of the millions of men in London

I happen to stumble on two who are friends. My anxiety has become so bad that every time the

guy I’m dating hasn’t replied to me I assume he has found out and he’s ghosting me.

42 • The Sunday Times Style*