One day last year the children’s television presenter Sally Gray had a horrible revelation. “I thought I would be married by the time I was 30. I’m 37.” Her first thought was: “Oh shit, I put the career first.” Closely followed by: “Oh my God, what am I going to do about it?” It got worse. “I was in Harvey Nicks with my mum, having a chat and a scone, when she said: ‘Maybe it’s about time you realised you are going to have to settle for a divorcé, it’s not going to be the perfect marriage.’ Even my mother was not buying into the white wedding fairy tale anymore.”
Singletons everywhere will be all too familiar with the symptoms. Morningside-born Gray was surrounded by “smug marrieds” — happy, settled friends. Her two brothers had produced three children each. Even Bridget Jones had managed to get pregnant. What was a poor, lonely television presenter to do? The answer, when it hit her, was obvious. Gray cleared her diary, become a full-time manhunter and made a documentary series about it.
“I thought, what would happen if I gave everything up careerwise and focused on trying to find a husband?” Gray’s background in quizzes and lifestyle shows, combined with her willingness to act out the 21st century’s merciless mating rituals in front of a camera, made it an attractive proposition and her quest for a mate, How to Find a Husband, goes out tomorrow.
The premise was simple: 10 weeks, as many dates as Gray’s liver could manage and, hopefully, a rock on her left hand at the end of it. The reality was a marathon of suitors that left her with severe “date lag” and a conviction that multiple dating might work with flinty New Yorkers, but it does not suit soft-hearted Scots.
Along the way she ate chocolate cake surrounded by sex toys in a kinky coffee shop, went for a his-and-hers massage, and appeared as “catch of the week” in a free newspaper, as well as trying the internet, speed dating, singles’ dinner parties, small ads, introduction agencies and anything else she could think of.
When she did a final tally, Gray was astounded to discover she had been on 70 dates in as many days. These ranged from a quick cappuccino to one debauched evening when the drinks — champagne, gin and tonic, white wine, red wine, port, sambuca — were more memorable than the dreary guy sitting across the table.
Of course there were some disasters. The millionaire with the wet handshake who spent his days in front of his computer wearing only his pants; the high-maintenance American who bullied the waiter. But of the 50 men she encountered, five were distinct possibilities and the series shows how these relationships progress as Gray juggles the butterflies and anxieties of starting to see someone special with her relentless schedule of dinners with old flames and cocktails with a friend of a friend’s chiropodist.
She soon learns that an open mind is as important as everlasting lip gloss. Having previously decided against family men, an intriguing prospect replies to her advert on an internet dating site. After a few e-mails, something clicks. “It suddenly dawned on me, it’s that guy I used to see walking down the road with his kids. He had asked me out seven or eight years ago, via my agent. At the time I thought it was a bit weird so I said no, but this time we went out had a great time and he became one of my main guys.
“I wouldn’t go out with someone who was married, but I would have ruled out someone with children, But this guy has two teenage kids and after I met him that didn’t matter at all. It was him I was interested in.”
Another of her top five had also been lurking in the neighbourhood. Gray was in her local bar and on her way to another date when she was blown out at the last minute. “There was a guy there I always said hello to, so I asked if he would be my stand-in date. He agreed and we got on like a house on fire, sparks flying, a real animal attraction.”
As well as working her way through every bachelor brave enough to date a single woman in her late thirties with a film crew attached, Gray enlists the help of relationship experts, dating gurus, psychologists and various other 21st-century professionals to help her on her husband hunt. It soon becomes clear one reason she finds herself single and childless at 37 is that she has spent too many years barking up charismatic, commitment-phobic trees.
“I learnt that I always went after the wrong kind of guy: tall, good looking with a hint of minx and no intention of settling down. One of my dating experts points out that there’s a fundamental disconnect between what Sally is advertising for and what she’s actually looking for.” In other words, Gray may look like a fully paid-up Sex and the City vixen, but underneath she’s desperate to be a housewife.
“I’m a down-to-earth, really traditional girl and the kind of guy I should be with would balance that out. Previously I went for men who were a bit cocky, a bit wild. Kiefer Sutherland. George Clooney. That kind of thing.” So now she’s looking for Ian Beale? “Not exactly. But I’m certainly much more cautious around good-looking men.”
Gray certainly achieved a high hit rate — identifying five altar prospects out of 50 possibles is good work. But she found having multiple choices exasperating.
“It’s not for us,” she says firmly. “Normally if there’s someone you like you want that moment of dolly daydream, listening to your Walkman, thinking about him. Can you imagine him at the wedding, bonding with your friends, what would his speech be like. I never had the time to do that and I did become a little ball of confusion.