TOXIC BACHELOR

WANT TO KNOW HOW TO SECURE THAT SECOND DATE? STUART HOOD HAS THE ANSWER

To date, or not to date – that was the question. And a pertinent one as Sophie, a cute girl I'd been pursuing, had just given me an hour's notice for our first meeting, and I might not get another opportunity. But there I was lounging in flip-flops, shorts and a T-shirt.

"Stuff it," I thought. "I'll stay dressed as I am. I mean, this here is the real, unedited me. Sophie can like it, or dump it."

Let's just say we won't be seeing each other again. This severance came at Sophie's behest ("You didn't make an effort"). But it was my fault. I botched Operation First Date.

OFD is an essential yet misunderstood element of the dating game. It's a mission with just one goal for both sides: securing a second date. A target achieved by being open and honest without attracting undue attention. So what counts as undue attention?

Revealing too much (verbally): Yes, we want to get to know you, but not that deeply – your credit card debt, genito-urinary infection and stalker ex-boyfriend can wait.

Revealing too much (sartorially): Play safe. And no, ‘safe' doesn't mean the underwear-displaying skirt that "always does the business down the Roxy". It means sexy smart-casual (this was where I failed with Sophie).

Picking unusual venues: There's a reason most first dates take place over a quiet table – they're about chatting, not sitting silently (leave the cinema until date five). I once made the mistake of going Zorbing – rolling around in a giant hamster ball – with a new lady. It was hideous. Conversation went: "You look lovely. Christ, this is scary. Um, sorry. I'm sure the bleeding will stop soon."

Overt nerves: I know your heart's beating like a whippet (mine too), but you have to keep calm or you'll never show your true colours. Keep a sense of perspective. You want to secure a second date – but if you fail, so what? I fail all the time.

It's frustrating, but what's important is to learn from your mistakes – and do better next time. Think like this and you'll reduce the pressure. Reduce the pressure and you relax. Relax and, more often than not, the mission will be a success.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

I've been dating my boyfriend for two years. We used to have a great sex life, but now I'm lucky if we make love once a fortnight. Is this normal?

Some drop-off from the early ‘rabbit days' is natural, but once a fortnight? You're in trouble. You have to break the monotony, before one of you breaks the monogamy. Sit down, remember how it used to be, discuss what's changed, make a plan to kick-start the kinkiness (dirty weekend, role play, jumping each other over dinner etc) and then start doing it immediately.

TOXIC BACHELOR

STAYING WITH YOUR PARTNER FOR THE SAKE OF IT? STOP DRIFTING AND START DUMPING SAYS STUART HOOD

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, says the Bible, but since no man in Britain falls into this category, this week you'll have to make do with my unrepentant rocks being tossed at British couples who are drifting aimlessly. Men and women sticking together because it's the easy thing to do, not because they're in love, but because they can't pluck up the courage to get out.

I'm not talking about those of you going through a difficult patch – get through it, every relationship has to. I'm talking about couples suffering a slow, inexorable, loss-of-libido, farmers'-market-on-a-Saturday-afternoon, Chinese-takeaway-and-DVD-every-Saturday-night death.

Couples like my mate Tommy and his missus Megan (names changed for reasons that are about to become obvious) who met at university and, bar the odd three-day barney, have been together ever since. Everyone thinks they'll get married. Everyone except Tommy, that is. He thinks they've reached the end of the road.

"She just doesn't do it for me any more," he confided. "You have to tell her," I retorted. "I can't," he replied. "It'll break her heart."

So he hasn't. Instead he's chosen a much-trodden male path – he's buried his head in the sand and his genitals in another woman, hoping the problem will disappear. He's an idiot.

This isn't la-la land – it's real life. Irreparable relationship issues don't just ‘go away'. They get worse. And worse. Until you reach the stage where not only can you not be friends, but you can't have the same friends or be civil to each other ever again. If the spark has gone, it's time for you to go too.

I'm not pretending it's going to be easy. When I split up with my longest-term girlfriend Emma (two years) it was a train wreck – tears, tantrums, one-night stands, snogging multiple blokes on nights out (and that was just me). But, eventually, we pulled ourselves together and emerged the other side bigger, better, happier people.

We did and, no matter how hard it seems now, you will too.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

I earn a lot more than my partner. It doesn't bother me, but he's uncomfortable with it. How can I make him see sense?

Go 'Pseudo-Dutch'. Appear to split the bills, but you pay for the expensive stuff and let him pick up smaller tabs. He's not vexed by the fact that you are richer than him, it's the fact it becomes obvious in certain situations (in front of his mates, colleagues, parents). At these times he must pay for the sake of his pride or you might as well chop off his bits and display them in formaldehyde.

THE TOXIC BACHELOR

STUART HOOD'S COUNTING HIS SPERM – AND DOESN'T CARE IF IT'S COMING UP SHORT

Look out ladies there's a new Toxic in town. My nephew Fin has just been born, and judging from his big blue eyes and Tom Cruise smile, he's going to be a bit of a charmer. But enough about him and back onto my favourite subject – me. I'm having a terrible week, and it's all Fin's fault.

OK, so it's not entirely his fault, it's more an issue regarding what he is – a baby – and when I'm going to father one – no time soon (well, I am only 28).

"Your turn now, Stu," poked my grandmother, bashing me in the crown jewels with her handbag. "And you'd better step up to the plate quickly. I've read your chances of becoming a father decrease at 35 – and by 40? You may as well not bother."

Her conclusion? My biological clock's ticking, so I need to cast aside my condoms, light some candles, and get impregnating NOW. My reaction? A slightly confused eye squint, shrug and desire to proceed as I am.

At this stage, it's important to clarify that my indifference to impending infertility isn't due to disbelief – I know better than to argue with science (or my gran) – it's just that men couldn't care less if their semen gets weaker as they get older.

Even if a man's in a relationship, if he's reached his 30s and he hasn't had children, he's come to terms with the possibility he never will. This isn't to say he doesn't want kids (I certainly do). It merely means he's realistic about the fact his current lifestyle choices are not conducive to fathering an infant. So it isn't even worth considering.

Men don't have kids "in case we can't have them later" or because we wake up one day and "want one". We have them because we (and you) have planned to.

We ask ourselves: "Am I with the right woman? Can I provide for three people financially?" And, most importantly: "Am I capable of growing up and looking after another human?"

Then we get scared, answer no, load Grand Theft Auto IV and change the subject. Talking of which, must go. Need to freeze my sperm before it's too late.

Dear Toxic Bachelor

After six years together, my boyfriend is keen for us to get married. I saw my parents go through a difficult divorce and I don't want the same to happen to me. How can I tell him I'm not the marrying kind?

Aside from a £20,000 bill, I'm not sure what difference a wedding will make. If you split up, married or not, it's going to be painful.

If you stay together, married or not, you need to communicate. Tell him straight. Chances are he's only pressing because he thinks it's what you want him to do anyway.