​Jackie McGregor: Trigger warning! Tales of wanton women in 1980s’ desperation derby manhunt

“How did your generation meet someone?” she asked. Suddenly I felt very old as I remembered back to the mating rituals of the 1980/90s when I was single and ready to mingle. “It was all done in person, you lined up your target and went after it, no messing about,” I informed her.

The social lifecycle of the females of the 1980s went something like this: you started out as students, frequenting Belfast watering holes like The Bot and The Eg. Nights were carefree, if you got chatted up, great, if not, no one cared. As you got a little older, finding romance became the goal. In my time this usually occurred at discos. As the troubles raged around us, we donned our war paint and went in search of love.

Our hunting grounds included The Drumkeen, The Cavalier, The Stormont, The Coachman’s, The Helmsman and The Pink Flamingo. We would stand at the bar chatting, whilst our eyes swept the room like searchlights, looking for fresh meat. (I did warn you; this was not a PC era!) Some of our crowd found romance.

In our late thirties, many were out of serious relationships and back on the market. We formed a motley crew, some members were in their forties and frankly, desperate for a mate! Now, going out on the hunt was no longer a fun pastime, it was serious business! We wanted a ring put on it! Discos were now unfashionable, we moved around numerous bars including Robinsons, The Washington and Drury Lane like great herds of wildebeest, emitting clouds of deadly perfume, man hunting. On hearing there were rich farmers to be had at The Seagoe Hotel, we launched a nocturnal attack, but our mission proved unfruitful.

Time passed and suddenly we found ourselves in the romantic trenches. We faced the ultimate humiliation, Pips and Paradise Lost! Both establishments were renowned to be frequented by older gentlemen seeking young companions, this was officially, desperation derby! I hit the jackpot and grabbed myself a minor celeb with his own TV series, but later dumped him and married my first love.

“Wow,” my young friend remarked after my dating recount, “and I thought dating apps were bad!”

“It was brutal!” I groaned, “We’d all hate to relive it. Perish the thought of trying to stuff ourselves into skimpy outfits again to go on the pull, especially now after childbirth and menopause many of us are suffering with severe TB” “Tuberculosis?” she asked concerned. “No, two bellies!” I sighed.