On more than one occasion I have had a friend tell me, "I'm so glad you're single because I like hearing all of these horror dating stories first hand".
What can I say? It can be hard being the token single friend in a room full of couples, all longing to live vicariously through you while simultaneously thanking their lucky stars that they aren't you.
The thing was, everyone - and I mean, everyone - told me dating would be easier when I moved to Canberra. My hairdresser, my grandmother, even my elderly neighbour had something to say on the topic - each with a worried look in their eyes that I was passing my expiration date before their eyes.
But the thing is, if anything, my dating experiences in the capital have been worse. Forget The Bachelor, get a film crew to follow me around on my dates and I promise you, you will have more interesting footage.
I can't promise that there will be a phoney proposal on a tropical island to round up the series, but I can promise that I will put the reality into reality TV.
Let's take bachelor number one for example - let's call him John.
John - a 30-year-old public servant living in Canberra's inner north - has a profile like a lot of other single men. He has the generic holiday photo to back up his claim that he likes to travel and includes both the single beer and the double beer emoji to express just how much he appreciates a cold one. (Why use words, when a picture says a thousand words?)
The first date with John goes well. He looks like his profile picture which is always a relief as that's not always a guarantee, and he seems to keep a decent conversation, so - to keep in with The Bachelor references - he gets a rose and sticks around for another week.
And so, coffee dates with John turn into drinks and then eventuate to dinner. He never stays over, which I think is kind of weird but I just put it down to 'one of those things'.
Come to think of it, John also never actually invites you around to his place. He's said he has three roommates but aside from that, he doesn't elaborate about his home life.
However, it's not until I have a conversation with John about how much I value honesty, that it all comes pouring out.
Firstly, his name isn't John, it's James and those three roommates he was talking about? Well, they would be his wife and kids. It's safe to say that John was eliminated fairly quickly after that, making way for bachelor number two - who shall be known as Tom.
Firstly, his name isn't John, it's James and those three roommates he was talking about? Well, they would be his wife and kids.
Tom likes being in the mountains over the beach - although until online dating I didn't realise that there was a competition between the two - and he is forever debating whether to spend his money on his next tattoo or his next holiday.
I will give Tom some credit because all of that information came from his profile - something which is usually left blank.
However that is also the extent of what I know about Tom as when we actually started talking, his first question - after 'how are you?' because I'm sure he would argue he's not a complete animal - was 'can you send me a nude?'.
I cannot stress enough that this is not an unusual situation and compared to some instances this is polite. There will always be a Tom, Dick or Harry talking to women on dating apps like this and I would go as far to say that it is a daily occurrence (depending, of course, on how often you use the apps).
Then came bachelor number three who doesn't actually have a name because the biggest trouble I had during the first date was that I didn't know how to pronounce his name.
I asked 10 people ahead of meeting him - and Google - and the closest I got were three variations on the pronunciation of the same name spelt out on his profile.
I know this was not his fault but having missed my opportunity at the beginning of the date to say 'Hi, I'm Amy' in the hopes he would respond with his name, I spent the rest of the night waiting for him to say it.
That's not to say there wasn't a second date because I couldn't pronounce his name. I was prepared to give him a rose and continue the charade until such time I could get a friend to confirm the pronunciation.
No, the reason there wasn't a second date was because he said I was too independent as I had a drivers licence and lived out of home. Believe it or not, this is not the first time I have been told this.
The scary thing is, those stories are pretty tame compared to some of my friends' tales. I know people who have woken up in the middle of the night to find their date peeing in the middle of their bedroom because he didn't quite make it to the bathroom.
I know women who have had their date walk out mid-date without any explanation. Others have been verbally abused by their dates for not looking like they go to the gym.
I'd get off the apps and go to an actual bar to meet people but quite honestly, the number of times I've been groped, shoved up against a wall and even unexpectedly motorboated by complete strangers while I try to get a cocktail, makes it seem like that's a pretty pointless exercise as well.
I say this so matter of factly because it's hard to believe that it has become anything other than a fact of life.
So here I am, still single and all swiped out. I think it's time to stop and smell all of these roses I've got lying around and opt for a heart break, over the heartbreak.