Dating Advice For Women, From Single-Celled Organisms. And Seahorses.

Because dating is hard, yo.

Once you’ve passed through university’s digestive tract, it becomes much harder to play the dating game. Work colleagues are (unless you have a penchant for blistering awkwardness) well out of bounds, and free time suddenly vanishes in a fog of tea and tracksuits and terrible television, rather than a coy dalliance with a handsome stranger in a bar. Getting into a relationship becomes almost as difficult as getting out of it.

Mother Nature showed mercy on some of our love-crazed planet’s inhabitants, though. Here’s hoping that science learns a trick or two from these lucky buggers before menopause hits.


I wish I were an amoeba
asexual in nature
no need to worry ’bout dating.

I wish I were a plankton
floating in the sea
just gotta divide in two
with no-one to think of but me.

I wish I were an aphid
don’t need no man to multiply
cos fertilization’s synthetic.

I wish I were a seahorse
good times are a-go-go
bloke deals with gestation
female involvement’s a no-go.

I wish I were more yeast-like
(jolly good for baking)
to reproduce by “budding”
and totes forget the love-making.

London dweller, insomniac, wearer of many fringes and avid eater of scotch eggs, who takes great pleasure in writing dreadful poetry and makes no excuses for the abysmal rhymes.