How was it for you? 2014, I mean. It's traditional at this time of year to take time to reflect on the year's goings-on, ready to bounce into the New Year. So, in the spirit of mindful reflection, and making lists, here's my Big Fat Relationships Review of the Year. 2014: it was the year when...
We embraced apps and created a monster
Tinder, yeah? In brief, singles-with-a-Facebook-account flocked to the dating app and were lovin' it lovin' it lovin' it, until the point when it became "all dick pics" (as one friend put it) and married people began signing up to check, "Yup, still got it!". So more dicks, then.
Ignoring became the new 'no'
If in doubt, ignore. It's the modern way – and it's infuriating. As Dr Alex J Packer, author of the manners guide How Rude!, points out: "If a query comes via text or Facebook, it's much easier to ignore; your smartphone isn't going to burst into tears if you don't respond". Yeah, but its screen might smash into a million tiny pieces when you throw it on your laminate floor in anger.
We found ourselves exposed – or were caught in the act
Hello iCloud! It's the virtual manifestation of getting caught with your pants down and it's caught a lot of people out. Jennifer Lawrence and co were unfairly exposed, of course, but others, such as Dane Bowers, were plain caught in the act. As his now-ex put it on her Twitter account: 'When you want to mess about, make sure ur fiancé isn't linked with ur iCloud'.
We made new friends
It's been a magical year for friendship. I've had several first dates with prospective new pals that have developed into something really rather special and emoji-filled. And I've had gifts. Like when William bought me a copy of The Joy of Sex ('A Gourmet Guide to Lovemaking') as a piss-take but attached the following, heart-warming note: "It's the second-best thing to come out of the 1970s after you". Sigh.
We were offered money to shoot game – or was that just me?
And finally, it's been a great year for sexual harassment. No doubt I'll be trolled on social media, like the last time I wrote about this, but let's try this for size. My friend Rachel and I stayed in a delightful north Yorkshire bolthole the other week and were set upon by a shooting party, from Billericay. All in their sixties. After them hounding us all evening like blood hounds, the head of the shoot offered us £200 to spend the following day with them, on another shoot. Needless to say, we legged it faster than the foxes.