My wife has been an angel since my heart attack. But she’d leave me if she ever found out the reason why I collapsed that day: SAUCY SECRETS

Dear Jana,

I’m 35 and at the stage of my life where I’m dating for marriage.

But I just had the shock of my life when a younger man (mid-20s) I was dating for several months told me I wasn’t ‘wifey material’.

Honestly, I feel humiliated. He explained I wasn’t ‘settled enough’ and was still in my ‘party era’.

Personally, I feel this couldn’t be further from the truth. 

I like to go out for drinks at the weekend and have a good laugh, but I’m career-focused, loyal and ready for something serious.

Is there something about my personality that is giving ‘party girl’ vibes? Or are younger men too stuffy and conservative these days? 

Not Wifey Material?

Dear Not Wifey Material?

Oh, for the love of God. Let’s be clear from the jump: any man who says you’re ‘not wifey material’ because you still enjoy going out for drinks on the weekend is not your future husband – he’s a killjoy.

Honestly, the audacity of this snore-of-a-mid-20s manchild to judge your lifestyle while probably still doing shoeys at house parties is ridiculous. 

I’m guessing he watched one too many Andrew Tate clips and decided ‘wifey material’ meant someone barefoot, beige and quietly folding his washing while he plays Xbox.

Let me say this loud and clear for the girls in the back: being the fun one is not a flaw.

The fact that you walk into a room and lift the energy is a gift. The fact that people want to sit next to you at dinner, dance with you at parties, and actually enjoy your company is not something to tone down.

It’s a tribute to your character, not a black mark against your future eligibility.

You’re allowed to be serious about love and still know how to order a round of margaritas. You’re allowed to want a partner and still want to laugh so hard your fake lashes fall off on a Friday night. 

Being vibrant, social and full of life doesn’t make you less of a woman – it makes you someone worth holding onto.

So no, it’s not that your personality is giving off ‘party girl’ energy. It’s that his masculinity is too fragile to handle a woman who actually knows who she is and isn’t afraid to live out loud.

You’re not too much. He just isn’t enough.

Dear Jana, 

I had a heart attack in a hotel room. That much my wife knows.

She thinks I was away on a work trip, pushed too hard, and my body gave out. And to be fair, that’s not entirely a lie. 

But if she knew the real reason, it would be the end of our marriage.

The truth is, I’d been out with the boys that night. We were drinking, having a few laughs and someone asked, ‘Should we get a bag?’

Of course, we all said yes.

I told her I’d quit all that years ago, and I meant it at the time. But I got caught up in the moment, told myself it was just one night.

Except it wasn’t just the coke. I’d also taken a Viagra. I was meeting up with an escort later, something else she obviously knows nothing about, and I didn’t want to risk underperforming. Mid-life ego, I guess. Dumb as hell in hindsight.

Next thing I know, I’m in an ambulance thinking I was done for.

Since then, my wife has been nothing short of incredible. She’s been by my side through every appointment, made every healthy meal, told me we’d get through anything together. 

And every time she says it, I feel like the world’s biggest fraud.

She thinks this heart attack was some kind of wake-up call for me to slow down. In a way, she’s right. But she doesn’t know the half of it.

Do I keep the secret and try to be better from here on out? Or come clean and risk blowing up the whole thing?

Heart Attack and Hiding It

Dear Heart Attack and Hiding It,

Having worked with men for years – especially in industries teeming with midlife-crisis cokeheads and horndogs who discuss blue pills like sommeliers talk wine – your story doesn’t surprise me.

In fact, whenever I hear of a bloke in his 40s or 50s having a mysterious heart attack, my brain doesn’t go to cholesterol. It goes to: coke, Viagra, Cialis, booze, Red Bull and someone who should have given up the party scene years ago. 

And I tell you what – I’m rarely wrong.

Look, I’ll level with you: part of me wants to give you a verbal slap across the face and say, ‘What were you thinking?’ Because cheating on your wife while high on a heart-strain cocktail of drugs and dick pills is not exactly the behaviour of a man who’s thinking long-term.

But here’s the other truth: I actually believe you have learned something. Near-death experiences do that: They shake you up, they slap the ego out of you. And now you’ve got a front-row seat to what real love looks like. Yes, you should feel guilt and shame. 

Your wife didn’t run, she stood by you. She showed up. That’s gold.

Now you have a choice: You live out the rest of your life trying to be worthy of the woman who fed you soup in a hospital bed. Or you tell her the truth, watch her walk out and go back to chasing whatever void you were trying to fill with coke and sex.

Will she leave if she finds out? Maybe. Probably.

If you really want to be a good man now – the kind who doesn’t lie, cheat or slowly kill himself behind closed doors – you’ve got to clean house.

That doesn’t always mean a full confession. But it does mean doing the work: therapy, honesty, and ditching your secret cocaine habit.

As for the Viagra, you can take it if a doctor says you need it. But don’t get it from under the counter at a sex shop so you can bar up while high as a kite.

Sir, you’ve had your wake-up call. Don’t hit snooze.

Dear Jana, 

I’ve been with my fiancé for three years and he ticks all the boxes. 

But lately, I miss the thrill of dating. My single friends always have the best stories and it’s made me miss the flirting, first kisses, sleeping with someone new for the first time. I’d never cheat, but I feel restless. 

Is this normal in long-term relationships, or a sign I’m not as happy as I pretend to be? 

Restless but Loyal

Dear Restless but Loyal,

Yes, this is normal. Entirely, universally, boringly normal. Every woman in a long-term relationship has at some point looked at her kind, sweet, partner and thought, ‘God, I miss the chaos.’

And who wouldn’t? The early days of dating are electric. Flirting, first kisses, a stranger’s hand sliding up your thigh in a bar bathroom – it’s a hormonal rodeo. 

Of course your single friends’ stories sound sexy. They are sexy. They’re also riddled with flakey men named Josh who say things like, ‘I’m not ready for a label,’ and have the emotional depth of a spoon.

As someone who is currently deep in the trenches of single life, let me tell you: it is not the glossy highlight reel it appears to be. It’s fun for a weekend. Maybe a month. 

But then it’s back to deleting Hinge, re-downloading it, and pretending to enjoy dates with men who say, ‘Let’s go halves on the edamame.’

You’re not broken. You’re just remembering what it felt like to be pursued. Desired. Drenched in novelty. That’s not a red flag, it’s basic biology. That’s your brain doing a little ‘what if?’ dance because it forgot about all the drama, hangovers and crying in Ubers that came with the ‘fun’.

Here’s the test: Do you still laugh with your fiancé? Can you tell him things you’ve never told anyone else? Does the sex still have potential, even if it’s been a bit routine lately? 

If yes, then you’re fine. You don’t need a new man, you need a weekend away, some good lighting, and a bit of roleplay that doesn’t involve you both in your trackies.

Relationships aren’t supposed to feel like an Ibiza foam party every day. They’re meant to feel like a warm pub on a cold night. But you can absolutely still dance on the table occasionally, just do it with someone who loves you enough to hold your handbag.