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Others ‘ghosted’ me — not returning messages after we’d exchanged a few pleasantaries.

For she, like countless other middle-aged divorcees, has found the world of internet dating — of which Tinder leads the field — to be a tawdry, loveless, moral abyss.

However, as I sat sipping my latte in a nice dress waiting for him to turn up, I did wonder what I’d done.

I’d checked if the car park had CCTV in case he tried to abduct me.

Over my time on Tinder, I found that the more I swiped, the more fussy I became. By a process of elimination, I realised my ideal man was a Paul Hollywood lookalike in a management position or running his own business.

The arbitrary way in which I started to dismiss men shocked me — especially when I realised there were thousands of people out there doing the exact same thing to me. Window shopping, reducing fellow humans to a number of physical attributes on which we reject or pursue them? I tried to strike up a conversation with every man I matched with, but half never even responded.

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