'All the single ladies! Put your hands up!’ – this article struck several chords and is rather funny… http://bit.ly/fcNpI

It sums up my life exactly. The one time I did go to a singles party, which was organised by some quite well connected people (who worked in films, telly and the like), it was a disaster. It was the usual thing of men skulking in corners, and then regarding you with extreme suspicion if you dared to reverse the natural order and go over and talk to them. All us girls who’d gone along, full of hope, ended up screaming with frustration.

What is wrong with men? Why do they treat you like you're a cross between Margaret Thatcher and Atila the Hun if you try to initiate a conversation with them? You'd think they'd like it - saves them having to make the effort and risk being shot down in flames, but no, they back into corners, give you a look as though you're about to drag them down a sperm bank and demand immediate insemination and then run away, desperate to find an unchallenging 25 year old to chat up instead.

I am, however, finally tempted to do internet dating, as I'm so bored of my entire life at the moment, that even going on rubbish dates might make things more interesting. Just baulking at the idea of a/ writing a profile b/ choosing a photo and c/ worrying that my ego will get dented by nutso blokes who seem good on paper, but less so in person. So I have come up with a top solution: I shall just marry David Mitchell. He seems nice, clever, funny, and is as horrified by the idea of dating as I am. Plus he's been single for 7 years, which is about the length of time since I last tried going out with someone (it's too depressing to work out how long it actually is - plus it's another big tick on the 'pro' side on the 'why David Mitchell should go out with me' list).

The last two blind dates I went on were disastrous. The first guy said he had to leave early (despite our numerous emails pre-date, he'd failed to mention this), because he had to get up at the crack of dawn the next day to go on a hedge-laying course. He claimed he’d already been on a dry stone walling course. I tried to tease him about the fact that he obviously liked to put a lot of barriers up in his life, and he didn’t go for it at all. He wouldn’t even walk me to the tube station! Rude man.

Then I went on one with a guy who’d been married, but his wife had died. That was going fine, till we started talking about the rubbish ‘new generation’ Star Wars films. I went on an extended rant about the final one, saying, ‘I mean, what on earth was the impetus for Anakin Skywalker to go over to the dark side? I mean, God, his girlfriend died, but really’. I realised as it was coming out of my mouth that I should just get my coat and go. I pretended, however, that I didn’t know his wife had died till he made some reference to it later. Needless to say, I didn't hear from him again.

So, David Mitchell. Yes, he looks a bit like a potato, but all men end up looking like that eventually – might as well know what you’re getting from the off. (I, of course, am no Elle MacPherson - I'd say I'm around a 6.5 on a good day.) Plus he’s a posho and my parents would like him, even if he does write for a vaguely leftie paper. Although, I suspect that this whole 'I've given up on dating' thing is a ruse by DM - much like in those Restoration plays, where lotharios were endlessly pretending to be gay so that they weren’t seen as a threat to single or married ladies, and then copped off with all of them, I imagine that poor David now has every woman over the age of 35 throwing herself at him, via Twitter, Facebook, his Observer column's online comments section and every time he nips to the corner shop for a pint of milk and some cheese. (I also imagine that DM has a touch of the Alan Bennetts and spends the time he's not on panel shows and writing comedy sitting at home eating cheese and biscuits).

So here starts my official Odyssey In Search Of David Mitchell. Someone out there must know him - please put me in touch! I'm very happy to have a virtual relationship via email, with very little actual 'dating' at all, thus minimising the pain for both of us. I can finally get my mum to stop worrying about me being single, and you can stop at least half of those women throwing themselves at you by squeaking, 'But I've got a girlfriend!' Everyone's a winner.