Am I the only gay girl who was born without a gaydar? My lack of ability to sense if a girl is straight or gay is beyond belief. On any given night out, guaranteed I am the person sniffing around the fag-hag all night long trying to suss out whether she likes chick or dick!

Fortunately my days of misfiring gaydar seemed to be a thing of the past when a mate of mine taking pity on me, pointed me in the right direction. Basically Arlan came up with this idea that if you wear a piece of purple string around your wrist that indicates you are a lesbian. If you wear the string on your right wrist you are single, on the left you are taken, genius! Apparently the craze is sweeping the U.S and has made its way to our shores. All I needed to do now was look out for girl with a purple piece of string around her wrist, and of course get myself one as well.

Even though I’ve experienced many a drunken fumble in a gay bar it wasn’t until I was asked to write this article that it hit me that I’ve have never actually done the pulling. I started to really doubt my pulling abilities, it was these doubts that led me to think it would be a great idea to get a gaggle of lesbians together and head out to Nottingham pride and get them to do the dirty work for me (queue the evil laugh)!

Armed with enough alcohol to fill a wheelbarrow we found a great viewing spot that we would call our base camp for the day. After a few cans the theories and stories started to roll, due to the fact that none of my friends seem to recall the intricate details of their nights out their stories weren’t much use. At this point I decided that maybe I should’ve been pickier when selecting friends to come with me. My girlfriend for one just didn’t seem that into helping me find the trick behind pulling chicks in bars, go figure.

Like most gay girlies at one time or another I have had the (mis)fortune of cruising women on GaydarGirls, in fact I am ashamed to admit I have been a registered member for almost two long years with very little success. Although I have yet to find love on the Dar I still religiously hand over my £5 every month so that I may send and receive limitless messages from women (well they claim to be women) all over the world that are in the same sorry position I am in.

Yes that’s right, £5 every month for two years costing me a total of £125. In hindsight I should have saved myself the time and used the £125 on an attractive escort out of the Yellow Pages, or gone to Soho and used it on three not so attractive (or clean) escorts, either way at least I would have ended up with something to show for my efforts even if it was just a nasty case of crabs.

Like all self-respecting teenagers, the end of my first long term ‘take home and come out to the parents’ type of relationship was celebrated with alcohol, tears and the angst-ridden music, mine was Elliot Smith … don’t make the same mistake I did! It was then followed by the walk of shame to University the next day, hiding under big sunglasses and the carefully-coiffed scene kid fringe, which finally came in handy for something other than annoying me in high-winds.

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It may not occur to you lucky few who happen to live in and around the gay Meccas that are London, Brighton and Manchester, but sometimes for the rest of us securing dates or finding suitable partners is not so easy. My own dating history, for example, reads less like a Mills and Boone bodice-ripper and more like a military manual on urban guerrilla warfare.

Recently, I found myself relocated to a geographical area where the words “Candy Bar” might as well be referring to a Kit-Kat. You can picture the scene: the local lesbian hang out has the feeling of the wild wild west, with everyone dropping into silence and giving you suspicious looks the second you walk in. Due to this tumbleweed effect, and understandably bored of trying to get my straight friends into a bi-curious mood through the medium of beer (oh don’t give me that disapproving look, we’ve all done it!), my only remaining option is Internet Dating!

When a friend invited me to a speed-dating event, I was not completely sure how to react. Was she asking me because I was 29 and single and therefore in her eyes desperate, or did she think I was so socially inadequate, I would never be able to arrange a date by myself?

I decided to give the night a go and set off to the Chocolate Lounge (146-148 Newington Butts, Kennington) where the event was being held.

There are many things I would consider trying. Try everything once they say. Throw yourself out of an airplane, eat a dish of octopus, even pot-holing in Wales. But going on a blind date? Frankly I'd rather run into a wall with forks in my eyes. So when I decided to go on a blind date for LoveGirls in the name of research, I did so with a large helping of cynicism and low expectations.

Who exactly goes on blind dates these days? Does anyone ever admit to it let alone write about it? Anyway, I'm always ready to take one for the team so what follows is an account of my experiences with 'Sleepless in Enfield'.