I’d never been confident with the opposite sex, having been anorexic since I was 11. I had body dysmorphia and felt too unattractive to be judged in daylight, let alone naked. I was also shy because I’m deaf.
At parties, if a man flirted, he’d soon grow bored of my nonsensical replies and wander off.
But becoming an editor – of Marie Claire, in 1999 – changed me. I was immersed in a world of designer clothes and fashion shows. I had a driver. I felt powerful.
Soon I’d built a good life: close-knit friends, a house in London Fields. I enjoyed spa days, facials and hair colour by the best in the business. I’d shop in Dolce & Gabbana, Prada and Versace, where I poured myself into a sexy dress and stilettos.
I was successful and now, finally, I felt feminine. The only thing I didn’t have was a boyfriend. That had its upsides – I was offered a column in which to recount my hedonistic singleton status, and hailed as the new Bridget Jones.
And yet I still believed the lie – from romcoms, novels, pop songs – that I needed a man to be happy and normal. With my new shiny status I felt almost worthy, eager to share my good fortune, ready for a plus one to steer me on a red carpet and accompany me on trips to Capri and Lake Como. I’d always feared men but, maybe, I was ready for the fray.
Turns out, I was right to be terrified. My biggest mistake? Believing the bling, my generosity, my drive, would make me loveable. The opposite was true. I was catnip to b*****ds.
Liz Jones advises that you should never date a man more than a decade younger. She married Nirpal Dhaliwal (pictured together in 2023) when she was 42 and he was 26
Over those wasted, stomach-churning 25 years, I married, dated, lusted after and even loved a handful of men who all failed to live up to their billing. My husband cheated on me. I almost married again. Another notable piece of work cheated on me again. All of them aged far worse than I did.
Now I’ve had time to reflect on precisely where I – and of course they – went wrong. After a quarter of a century in the saddle – an aeon spent exploring the male psyche – here are my 12 relationship rules every woman needs to know…
1. Never date a man more than a decade younger
In April 2000, a 26-year-old local radio reporter called Nirpal Dhaliwal turned up to interview me, and later emailed my PA for my number.
I said yes when he asked me out. My gut told me he was unsuitable: too eager, not my type, and definitely too young. I knew our disparate incomes and achievements would be our downfall.
Yet the truth is, I was 42, didn’t want to waste the body, the hair and the accessories by sitting home alone watching Sex And The City.
Unfortunately, it went downhill from then, starting with him bringing flowers to the restaurant on our first date: awkward, cheesy.
Even when married – at Babington House; he didn’t even pay for his bespoke suit or the wedding bands – I still sat alone watching SATC.
I hear you: ‘Why marry him?’ Well – I felt sorry for him. After an argument, he’d leave notes around the house or in my suitcase (I travelled frequently due to my job), pleading with me not to dump him: ‘You’ve given me the only stability I’ve known!’ I also felt this was my last chance.
Why did he marry me? He says now he was too young to make his own decisions. My feeling? He saw pound signs. A leg-up.
One serious, older boyfriend was a smoker who couldn’t walk far, while Liz’s favourite pastime is exploring with her collies. And he was also jealous of her dogs
At first, yes, he found my age exciting. But soon he was using it as a stick to beat me with, uttering asides such as, ‘Don’t break your hip.’ Cruellest of all, ‘I need to be a dad, and you can’t give me that.’
I’m grateful we didn’t adopt. I’m lucky I didn’t have children with any of the men I’ve been in relationships with, the reason I’m guessing why so many women stick it out.
Of course – of course – it quickly went wrong. But it taught me a lot, specifically…
2. Never marry a man who does yoga
In my marriage, the smelly rubber mat always came first. It’s displacement activity – avoiding the woman he feels is a noose round his fat neck.
If your potential partner is obsessed with running, football or anything that excludes you, send him on his narcissistic way.
3. Never leave a man home alone while you travel for work
I’d get in after a long flight and wonder why our wedding photos were face down, my awards in a drawer. He never dusted, after all.
Doubtless the women who had been in my Vispring bed wondered the same thing.
4. Never date a man who doesn’t buy furniture
If he won’t buy any, make him sit on the floor. My ex-husband doubtless told the women it was his house, but he didn’t contribute a stick of furniture to it.
Just as he’d cruise in my convertible BMW, a conceit only spoiled when he had to call me to ask how to turn on the headlights.
5. Never embark on a relationship with someone not your equal
Salary-wise, intellect-wise, values-wise, you need to be on an equal footing. You need stuff you enjoy together.
I learned to appreciate Football Italia, but my husband never showed an interest in anything I liked.
In his defence, he hated me printing anecdotes about his peccadillos: my column made him more secretive, distant. Though his one and only novel drew heavily on me and my well-connected friends. He even forgot to fictionalise the name of one of his real friends.
Liz advises that you should avoid dating a man who doesn’t buy furniture
6. Never tolerate a competitive man
Though it paid for his lifestyle, my ex-husband ridiculed my talent, saying: ‘Never give your opinion on anything.’ My agent would send me a ‘Happy New Year!’ text and my husband would see it and mew, ‘Why didn’t he text me?’
So, never date a man who belittles you or resents your success.
He’d do impressions of me to his friends, opening the fridge with his T-shirt, saying, in a pathetic voice: ‘Respect my space!’
A difference in background rarely works. He is working-class, from Punjab; I’m middle-class, from Essex (though we travelled to India often, he never showed interest in visiting Chelmsford), yet he never once tipped our cleaner.
Ah, generosity: they must have that in spades. And kindness. He must make you laugh.
It turned out my column was not pollen to a bee: it was the reason he cheated, even before we married. This piece will make him angry, his default setting (I recommend revenge over therapy).
7. Never be a martyr
Without the cheating, I would have stuck by him and his awful habits – porn, a propensity to wear a baseball cap backwards, a hand always down his sweatpants.
Now I think a life where you merely tolerate him, like a mum with a wayward teen, is ill-advised.
Put your own happiness first.
8. Never date a man ten years older
My next serious boyfriend was a decade my senior, but it isn’t just about numbers, it’s how well they’ve looked after their health.
I started dating David – me in my fifties, he in his sixties – in 2014, on and off for a decade.
Never date a man who pillages your mini bar, writes Liz. Romantic partners should behave as they would with a friend
I should never have contemplated being with someone who was content to sit watching quiz shows, who kept telling me he was a member of Mensa (‘was’ being the operative word), who would never notice an empty dog bowl.
Being physically incompatible? Never works. He was retired; I’m a workaholic. A smoker, he couldn’t walk far, while exploring with collies is my favourite pastime. He was jealous of my dogs.
Personal hygiene is not just about self-respect. It’s a courtesy if you grow old together, and I imagine all the bad stuff – his toenails, your allotment – doesn’t come as such an enormous shock.
As men age, they become cantankerous, too. David listened to The Archers, shushing me frequently, and swore at other drivers. Conversation is important, and he had little to say.
The most heartbreaking episode was taking him to the Plaza Athenee hotel in Paris, to the very suite Carrie Bradshaw stayed in. I booked dinner at the restaurant Carrie dined in and, as he knelt to propose – the ring cost less than the sugary espressos he ordered endlessly – he knocked over the water on the next table. In that moment, I knew we wouldn’t have the happy ending of a romcom.
9. Never try to fix their flaws, but never lower your standards either
I know what you’re thinking with the whole Carrie in Paris thing. ‘She needs to stop organising things!’ But if I hadn’t, we’d never have gone out.
What I think now is that you can’t fix a man’s lack of get-up-and-go. If he can’t be bothered to suggest, plan and book, dump him and travel solo.
You might say I’m hard to please, but over the past quarter century, even a small gesture – a surprise home-cooked meal, knowing what cat biscuits to buy, just some help! – would have gone a long way.
On our honeymoon in Seville, my ex-husband showed willing by making coffee, but scalded his arm by pushing the cafetiere plunger too fast: he’d never used one before. The older boyfriend didn’t know you have to press the bubble to start the lawnmower.
You want me Hollywood waxed and spray-tanned? Well, I need you to be useful.
10. Never accept a sex drought
My husband and I went nine months without even a sniff, so I asked a male friend if that was normal. ‘He’s having sex,’ he said, ‘just not with you.’
The older boyfriend was adventurous in bed, but his body wasn’t willing. In one hotel, a sex toy menu was on the bedside table. He spent hours finding his spectacles, before peering at it and remarking: ‘The prices seem awfully high.’
11. Never accept that it’s ‘just sex’
Which is what happened next!
I met my most recent boyfriend last July at a party, and my gut told me he was too good to be true: green eyes, hair snaking over a collar. Never, ever sleep with a man two hours after meeting him. It was fun but ill-advised.
Barely weeks into our relationship he started acting suspiciously, cancelling a Suffolk mini break with the lame: ‘Please excuse me. It’s a two-hour drive. I have a work call.’
More dodgy behaviour. We’d have dinner at my hotel, go to bed and always, as I checked out, I’d hope, perhaps, he’d paid for his steak and oysters. No chance.
Never date a man who pillages your mini bar. Romantic partners should behave as they would with a friend.
It turned out, of course – of course – that he was seeing other women. Apparently one of them wore an engagement ring.
The thing is, most men don’t want fabulous: it makes them feel small. The only word to describe him that’s printable is ‘chippy’. I should have known my worth.
How could this happen, again? Why do men cheat? How do they have the energy? (On a visit to my home, we had sex five times in less than 24 hours. An older friend raised a brow and said, ‘Viagra?’) Isn’t there an age – he’s 60 – when it’s ridiculous? Apparently not.
12. Never ignore a red flag
Nirpal still lived with his parents when we met, and I remember driving to pick up his stuff so that he could move in, seeing his bedroom, the duvet without a cover, and thinking: ‘He’s a child. I will turn into his mother.’
I should have stopped right there. Remember this old adage: ‘We don’t want to be nurses or purses.’
With David, it was my first glimpse of his flat: he was using me to escape the mess.
The latest lover, having bombarded me with texts, promptly ghosted me.
I ignored the flags flapping on the beach and swam with a shark.
When I was having problems in my marriage, my mum – who was married for 60 years to a man who worshipped her – said ‘be patient’.
She was of the selfless generation of women who put themselves second, but she was lucky: my dad was ex-Army, handsome, pressed and polished, even in his eighties and suffering from cancer.
That calibre of man today is as rare as a snow leopard.
My experience bonking Boomers and a Gen Xer is that they have no idea how to behave with women who have evolved, leaving them open-mouthed and flailing, goldfish on a carpet. I hope Millennials and Gen Z regard each other as equals.
The future? I’m sick of rowing the boat: any future relationship must be easy. I need clear boundaries. I can’t bank on a man making me happy, so I must learn contentment.
