I finally feel I can wish him well. It is amazing what a couple of flings can do for your self-esteem. 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. 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.
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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 arrived, my new year's resolution was to set about finding true love. In February I met software businessman Nick, a 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. Soon I received an e-mail from the man who was to be my first official date as a divorcee. Paul was a foppish, 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. Do you ever paint your toenails? 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 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. In the end I said: 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.
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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, 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 , I'd have given up long ago. I'd always imagined we'd have a family once we were well into our 30s.
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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 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.
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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. I met Lewis, a 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. 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.
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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: 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.
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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 Dating diaries of the lonely divorcees Last updated at I made a mental memo - no more blind dates. By December, Harry and I had broken up, with no tears on either side.
Maya Trajkovska, 34, works in media software and lives alone in Ealing, London: Share or comment on this article: Most watched News videos 'Who cares? Man has 15 cans of beer pumped INTO his stomach by He picked the wrong house!