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The start of every year sees a spike in divorce rates as people decide to move on. But what is that first painful year like? Here, three women who divorced a year ago, reveal their dating triumphs and disasters in 2006...
Tracy Chambers, 36, is a senior manager for a charity. Single, she lives in a flat in West London:
When my marriage ended, it was like having my heart ripped out. Luke, who is 34, and I had been together for eight years and married for five. He was my best friend and I honestly thought our love would last for ever.
But one day last year I came down for breakfast - Luke had gone to work - to find a letter on the kitchen table. In it, Luke said he didn't feel he could make me happy, that it would be a mistake for us to emigrate to Thailand - as we'd planned - and he no longer loved me. My world fell apart.
We hadn't been arguing, but I'd sensed an increasing distance between us. We weren't making love as often and Luke didn't want to talk to me. It was out of character, and I asked him if we could try relationship counselling - but he refused.
After reading his note, I couldn't stop crying. At times I felt almost suicidal. I begged him to reconsider, but, though he said there was no one else, he insisted our future was not together, which broke my heart.
Questions raced through my head. Will a man ever find me attractive again? How do I chat to men and meet them? I was terrified I would never meet someone else to love, or love me.
It took until April to feel more myself again, although I was still distraught. But I was feeling a little more confident and one night I went to a party.
There, I immediately caught the eye of a very handsome man, Tim, who was my age and a television producer. We'd both had a bit to drink and at the end of the party he said 'Can I have a kiss?' I thought, 'What the heck!' and kissed him. It felt extraordinary - partly wonderful, partly strange.
I hadn't kissed anyone but Luke for eight years and it was odd to feel someone else's mouth. We swopped phone numbers, and I reeled home.
I texted Tim a few times - a whole new phenomenon for me, as when Luke and I were dating you rang each other. But there is no nuance with texting, so when Tim said he was 'too busy' to meet me, I took that badly.
I didn't respond to his following texts and decided to enjoy being single a bit more. By summer, my social life was picking up.
Luke and I had to e-mail each other about the divorce - horrible, cold e-mails. Each one set me back and I wished I didn't have to have any contact with him.
Still, I was determined to keep enjoying myself and in June I even went to a speed dating event organised by a friend. I devised fun questions like 'Football or rugby?' and 'Lost or 24'?
There was one lovely man there, but all my single friends thought he was gorgeous too, so I didn't have a chance. All the rest seemed to be City boys showing off how much money they made, not my type at all. It was fun, but nothing came of it.
In July I was set up on a blind date by a friend who said this man was just my cup of tea. But he was incredibly tall and skinny, with legs like pipe cleaners and seemed very pleased with himself. He'd been described as very attractive, but, oh dear me, no.
I sat at the table trying not to laugh and we chatted about work and holidays. He seemed to find me very attractive so I started hunting for excuses to leave. I hated to hurt his feelings, but life really is too short.
I made a mental memo - no more blind dates. Lots of my single friends are now trying internet dating, but it seems so clinical, sad and a bit desperate, and I've heard horror stories of men who lie about themselves.
Thankfully, I didn't need to try it. I met a lovely man at a party - a Brazilian, in his 20s and a student travelling the world. He thought I was in my 20s too and I wasn't about to correct him. We chatted for ages and swopped numbers. By the end of the evening we were kissing.
A few days later we met up for a meal, and went back to my flat where we ended up in bed. I had been terrified of sex with another man but friends all said I would be surprised how easy it was. They were right. It didn't feel strange, just lovely to be held by such an attractive man. I woke up next morning with a big smile on my face.
For a few weeks, I felt 18 again. My lover was returning to Brazil but I didn't mind, I always knew it would be just a fling and, besides, I had met another young man called Harry, also in his mid-20s.
I seemed to be attracting much younger men. They love dating older women because they are more experienced and don't cling. I made it clear I was not ready for a heavy relationship.
I think, too, there may be a subconscious reason why I was attracted to young men. They have lots of energy, love travelling, and are far less likely to make demands.
I wanted to be in control of my relationships because I never wanted to be so hurt again. I will never marry again, that's for sure.
Harry and I saw each other for a few weeks, but we both knew it was a casual thing. But it was just what I needed. I'd stopped crying at night and felt as if Luke belonged to a previous life. I finally feel I can wish him well. It is amazing what a couple of flings can do for your self-esteem.
By December, Harry and I had broken up, with no tears on either side.
But I have set myself a target - I want to be settled in a long-term relationship by this summer. I know you can't plan everything, but I would like to be with someone who really means something to me.
Maya Trajkovska, 34, works in media software and lives alone in Ealing, London:
When my divorce came through, I felt like a lost soul. I'd been with my husband Ivan since 2001. We'd met through work and married in 2003 and I was blissfully happy.
But only ten months later Ivan's personality changed almost overnight. He was no longer my funloving, kind husband, but distant and cold. When he started arriving home later from work I suspected an affair but he always denied it. He insisted he loved me.
But by the summer he was still brittle and uncommunicative and I was so unhappy I filed for divorce, which came through a year ago. I still don't think there was anyone else. Ivan moved out - the most painful thing I've ever had to go through.
Although family and friends were amazing, I was devastated. But I was determined to be positive about the future. That's why, when 2006 arrived, my new year's resolution was to set about finding true love.
In February I met software businessman Nick, a 40-year- old divorcee with blond hair and green eyes, at a conference in Ireland. We chatted at the evening dinner and flirted outrageously.
After the divorce I lost a lot of confidence, so to have a gorgeous man find me sexually attractive felt great. We couldn't fight the chemistry and against all my normal principles I had four days of amazing sex with him.
Nick lived overseas and I didn't want a long-distance relationship, but our fling ensured I flew back to London with my confidence restored. I paid £75 to join a dating website for six months and promptly posted pictures and a profile online. Soon I received an e-mail from the man who was to be my first official date as a divorcee.
Paul was a foppish, 38-year-old nurse with no baggage. For three weeks we exchanged e-mails, talking about work, interests and holidays.
He loved interior design and as I was in the midst of refurbishing my home it gave us common ground. Over drinks in a pub in Ealing, West London, Paul initially seemed nice until he started asking odd questions.
'How often do you paint your nails?' he inquired. 'Erm, now and again,' I replied and turned the conversation back to other things. 'What about your toenails? Do you ever paint your toenails?' he persevered. I decided to cut the date short and politely told him we had nothing in common.
The following month I arranged a date with Richard, 44, a handsome, fair-haired, blue-eyed translator who'd recently come out of a seven-year relationship. We e-mailed, talked on the phone then met for dinner in Covent Garden, but sadly there wasn't a physical spark between us. When he suggested a second date I gently told him I wasn't interested.
Next I met up with Guy, a 31-year-old, attractive, single postman with no ex-wife or children. He said he was tall - I'm 5ft 10in -and I loved the fact that he was passionate about photography.
But in the flesh Guy was needy, low on confidence and sat so close that it made me feel uncomfortable. He tried to kiss me at the end of the date then hugged me and wouldn't let go. It was embarrassing. In the end I said: 'I have to go now.'
After my disappointing internet dates I decided this method simply wasn't working, so when I spotted an advert for an upmarket dating agency aimed at wealthy professionals, I took the plunge.
I paid £12,500 for the gold membership package to Seventy Thirty, which included my own personal matchmaking specialist - a qualified psychologist and relationship coach. It was a lot of money, but I saw it as an investment in my happiness.
The initial consultation with my matchmaker lasted a couple of hours and was to establish what I was looking for in life and love.
As well as passion, intelligence and ambition, I'm attracted to tall, blonde men with green or blue eyes.
My matchmaker called me a few weeks later to suggest a date, so off I went to meet Peter, a towering, 36-year-old, childless, single company director. He was wealthy but not flashy, well dressed and effortlessly chivalrous.
After a couple of hours of easy conversation over drinks, we grabbed a table at a Lebanese restaurant. It was a lovely evening and we kissed on the cheek at the end of the date and agreed to meet again. That was a few weeks ago and we've exchanged e-mails since, but we haven't got round to making a second date yet.
I'm determined that I will find Mr Right and I'm more than happy to keep going on dates at the moment, because I know they'll be carefully chosen. Let's face it, if I'd had any more dates like the first few I had in 2006, I'd have given up long ago. Sarah Kennedy, 29, lives in South London, and runs her own online DIY information business.
I was married to Kevin, a civil servant, for three years. Two years into our marriage he announced he wanted children by the time he turned 30, while my pressing goal was to start my own business.
I'd always imagined we'd have a family once we were well into our 30s. Kevin was so determined to be a father that eventually it drove a wedge between us and I moved out of our home.
A year later I spent my first Christmas as a divorcee. It was devastating, as I thought I'd spend my life with Kevin and couldn't contemplate the idea of dating again.
But come January 2006 I vowed to re-establish my social life and joined a dating website to keep my options open. The first man to catch my eye was Dan. According to his profile, he was a City high-flier who looked handsome and smart. We met in a local bar after a few weeks of e-mailing and I made sure I was perfectly groomed and sexy in a skirt and heels.
When I arrived at the bar I was horrified to find him wearing a dirty old T-shirt and was bored rigid as he talked relentlessly about his beloved Porsche. After 90 minutes I couldn't stand it any longer, told Dan I felt ill and left.
I texted him on my way home to tell him I didn't want to see him again. His reply read: 'That's a shame, I was looking forward to taking you for a drive in my Porsche.'
I met Lewis, a 34-year-old promoter, in a nightclub in Manchester last May. We swopped phone numbers and arranged a dinner date in London a few weeks later where I found him a good conversationalistand very attentive-But in a bar afterwards, the charm disappeared and Lewis turned into an embarrassing letch. His hands roamed everywhere as he tried to kiss me.
'I've travelled from Manchester especially and assumed we'd spend the night together,' he said when I told him to stop.
Thank goodness I'd prepped my friend and told her that if I called her and hung up she should ring me straight back and pretend there was an emergency and needed help right away. I was furious that Lewis had made me feel cheap.
A few weeks later, however, I was introduced to Matt, a friend of a friend who was six years younger than me with boyish good looks.
As I sipped champagne at the party, I was aware of Matt casting admiring glances at me. It felt so good I basked in it. We chatted, flirted and went back to my house for a nostringsattached one-night stand that did my confidence the world of good.
It was fun, sexy and totally out of character for me, but I didn't regret it one bit. We both knew it was a one-off, but it was a wonderful confidence boost.
Shortly afterwards, I arranged a date with a guy called Andy whom I'd met in an internet chat room. We'd exchanged photos and he looked quite attractive, so I agreed to meet him in a pub for drinks.
As I approached the pub it was empty apart from one man - a fatter, balder and much older version of the photo Andy had sent to me. From the state of him that picture had to be at least ten years old.
I was annoyed and I'm ashamed to say I stood him up and went home. Thankfully, I never heard from him again.
Then in July I discovered that sometimes true love can be staring you in the face. Paul and I have been business partners for three years. He's 30 and has been in a long-term relationship which ended early on last year and we were already great friends.
I'd never thought of him as boyfriend material until we went for drinks one Friday afternoon in the summer.
I was bemoaning all my disastrous dates when Paul interrupted: 'Erm, I really like you, what about us?'
I realised Paul is my type with his good looks, perfect teeth and great dress sense, and when he leant over to kiss me that afternoon in the pub sparks flew.
We started dating and we've just moved in together. Paul's bright, funny and so gentlemanly - when I got a puncture on the motorway this week he came straight out to rescue me rather than have me wait for the breakdown man. It made me feel so feminine and important.
Right now, I'm having the time of my life dating Paul. Who would have thought I'd find love on my doorstep. But perhaps if I'd not had all the disastrous dates first, I wouldn't have been ready to fall in love again...
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