2 weeks Ago
LIZ JONES'S DIARY: I'm at Fashion Week and can't help but wonder, how do other women get men with no effort at all? By LIZ JONES FOR YOU MAGAZINE Published: 04:01 EDT, 15 March 2025 | Updated: 04:01 EDT, 15 March 2025 e-mail View comments I received a long complimentary letter from a man. He wasn’t trying to flirt (you will not believe the number of men who have contacted me since the three-women-in-as-many-nights debacle; one said, ‘Why do you always choose the wrong man?’ when in fact he seemed perfect for, oh, about a week) but told me I should give David 1.0 another chance.
In his letter he even sweetly referred to my ex by his number, saying David 1.0 is an ‘innocent’, he ‘leaps off the page’ and all my male readers are rooting for him. He also told me I should get a rag-doll cat.
Girlfriends have been weighing in, too. ‘It’s time to place you-know-who on the back burner and move on up. You are talented, famous in your own right, slim and pretty.
Men are more trouble than they are worth.’ I am never going to get back with David 1.0.
I persisted, despite his distrust of dishwashers, propensity to wear shoes that are trodden down at the back, habit of eating warm Revels in his car, inability to pick up a dog bowl or a dog poo and his false teeth that turned my stomach, I think because in all honesty I had to fulfil the demands of this column. I’ve done this before. I booked Babington House for my wedding despite my husband behaving like an outsize toddler rather than my partner.
I moved from my gorgeous Georgian villa in London to Somerset to change my column’s direction, meaning ultimately I lost all contact with my remaining family (I wasn’t even told my brother had died a year ago until six months after the event), lost my home and my mental health. But this new man was different. I slept with him barely hours after meeting him because the attraction was so strong.
I wanted one normal night of being seduced, being impulsive, being naughty. I was always too nervous of men – of revealing myself, my body, my failings – to sleep with anyone until I was 32. After our first night, he of course checked me out online.
I’m certain every gory detail of my disastrous past 25 years repelled him as surely as my cellulite and my age. I told him that he is the first man I respect enough not to write about. I wanted something for myself that wasn’t public property.
I told Nic I wasn’t going to write about him. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Writing will ruin things.
’ But by week two he had ghosted me then cancelled last minute, so I felt I owed him zero loyalty. Which turned out to be the case. So I wrote about him.
It’s cathartic but, despite what everyone thinks, writing hasn’t made me rich: the opposite is true. Last week, I had £2 in my current account, 34p in my savings account. Take today.
I’m in London for Fashion Week though no one has commissioned me to write a word. But I always go the extra mile and arrive well turned out in the hope I’ll get a break. I know tonight I will shiver in the sleet, barred from Burberry as I was from Harris Reed on Thursday, returning to my expensive hotel room.
I can’t help but appreciate the irony that there are two men in London I’ve had sex with in the past 18 months, bought dinner and drinks for, cooked for, ironed John Lewis linen for, waxed for, been lasered and dyed for, and yet I am still paying for hotel rooms and cups of coffee and Ubers as my case is so heavy that I just want to lie down in a gutter and die. Why do other women get men with no effort at all? Why do I have to order a fully decorated six-foot Christmas tree to be placed in my suite? Well we all know the answer, don’t we? Unlike Bridget, I’m not good enough just as I am. Jones Moans.
.. What Liz loathes this week Sainsbury’s.
Not only do you now have to self check out (the poor supervisor came over to assist me six times, so I don’t see how it helps anyone), in order to leave the store you must present the barcode on your receipt to open the barrier. Why treat loyal customers like crooks? I’ve (sadly) been examining my footage from the party where I met the German. Even before he sat next to me, I can now hear him say to another man at the bar, ‘Mail on Sunday.
’ So he targeted me, thinking I had more than £2.34. Share or comment on this article: LIZ JONES'S DIARY: I'm at Fashion Week and can't help but wonder, how do other women get men with no effort at all? e-mail Add comment Comments 0 Share what you think No comments have so far been submitted.
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