Dear deidre dating
Being on the receiving end of 1,000 complaints every week – and finding the energy to answer them – requires patience and compassion beyond most of us. A third is letting an obsession with the television chef Gary Rhodes destroy his marriage. Luckily, Deidre, "Dear Deidre", is not just the country's best-known and longest-serving agony aunt, about to complete a third decade at The Sun: Dear Deidre is also a well-oiled and stoutly sensible advice-giving machine. Without it, the whole enterprise – quite unlike anything attempted by any other practitioner – would fall apart.
Logistically, though, Deidre's worries – unless you run the Chinese civil service or the NHS – make your life look, frankly, like a cakewalk.
He is someone you can’t really believe or trust.” Let us know what you think on social media.
Deidre is at her computer, putting the finishing touches to next Saturday's column.
They and you might have legitimate claims to the occasional long dark night of the soul.
In an adjoining room, a crack team of letter-writing lieuten-aunts, armed with cups of tea and a bank of good sense, sit typing suggestions and juggling problems, the air-traffic controllers of the office's cluttered emotional skies. Nearly every available flat surface in the warren-like space is covered in a ream of pea-green print-outs, each sheet of which represents a problem that is at once tiny and enormous. "I've had to take two carrier bags full down to the car just to get them out of the way." Those problems are placed in piles according to urgency, and those piles are stamped with a name; every name signifies that one of the in-house agony aunts will be taking that particular slice of worry in hand, and doing her best to make it a little easier to bear.
"But we have had 29-and-a-half years to perfect it." On a recent Tuesday, I visited the nondescript converted flat – about an hour from London, and, metaphorically at least, still further from the diktats of Rupert Murdoch – where that system is housed.
But just a few months down the line the reality is you are with a man with drink issues and who knows what else.
Deidre casts a judicious eye over the offending copy.
"A stain on my girlfriend's dress looked like Baileys," she reads aloud, "But it sure didn't smell like it." She puffs out her lower lip. "Never mind." One thing is clear: 64-year-old Auntie Deidre is no prude.
My head is telling me to leave but my heart says stay.” Hmm…
Advice columnist Deidre was having none of it, and told the woman that clearly she can no longer trust her partner. If you take off your rose-tinted glasses, you will see far more reasons to be unhappy than happy in this relationship.