I do realise this all sounds pretty depressing, but then, by some miracle, when I’d been single for around a year I met Jack* – someone I really liked who seemed to really like me.

I’m not sure what a man is his late 30s was expecting, but I sincerely doubt he’s found it yet.

Then there was the guy who wouldn’t accept that I’m only free every other weekend and wanted to come round to my house once my son was asleep.

Their comments made me feel that my desire for dating and sex meant I wasn’t measuring up as a mum in some way.

But I seriously doubt any single dads ever receive the same type of criticism.

Another man I dated for a few months got annoyed that I couldn’t spontaneously go to London for a long weekend because I had Josh.

Sorry, but weekends away for me require months of notice and military-style planning.

Aside from the obvious safety issues, nobody expects child-free, single women to be happy with dates in their own living room, so why should I settle for that?

I want to meet for coffees in lovely cafes, enjoy walks along the beach and go on amazing nights out that don’t end until the sun comes up.

Gradually I introduced him to Josh, and I also felt like I could trust him with my post-baby body.

That’s another part of hook-ups I’ve found difficult – someone who isn’t the father of my child (and therefore has no obligation to be kind) seeing my body.

Even if all that happened was a no-strings fling, I was still more interested in what they were like as people – did they have ambition? Well, it turns out there is a whole other layer of disappointment that someone in my position has to deal with.