In search of a Fringe date

I'm now four shows in and can definitely say my Edinburgh has been a 50% success. Not in terms of my show selling out, darlings - do come: 6.40pm in the Cabaret Bar. No, I'm talking about my dating success. You see, it's been some years (three to be precise) since I've had a date. I'm not talking about getting drunk with some guy then staggering back to his, in which case I have been dating. I'm talking about meeting someone nice, a drink, maybe dinner (remembering not to scoff my food, and to ask them about themselves).

People have suggested all kinds of ways for me to get dates, most of which have failed. Salsa classes? Salsa classes can piss off. If I ever want a high-heeled man with roving hands, I'll consider it. Speed dating isn't for me either. It's the Yo! Sushi of the amour options.

So instead, here I am, taking the more traditional route of trying to get an audience member to go on a date with me after each of my shows. My ego hoped this would be easier than it's actually turned out to be.

Day one and a nice man with a deep voice called Aubrey agreed to go on a date, and then promptly vanished straight after the show. Cheers! The next night, a lovely French chap called Gaultier did stay and we went for a drink, but the poor boy seemed terrified. This is clearly not what he'd planned for the evening. Personally, I was just grateful he hadn't bolted like Aubrey - and, as it would turn out, Date 3 (Martin). Then last night, I met Alan. A great bloke who was well-travelled and interesting.

It's tricky getting guys to come forward in the show. One chap the other day said "when you asked, I was going to put my hand up and say I was single". Great, I thought, but then a woman butted in saying: "Dad, just coz Mum's not here doesn't mean you're single!" Not that it would have bothered me: with a 50% success rate, I'll take it where I can get it.