There are few activities more humbling than looking back on last year's New Year's resolutions. So it's a bit unfortunate that 12 months ago, I committed mine to print.

Things didn't go exactly to plan. In reality, what I did in 2011 was attend singles nights, play Monopoly , make a sexy playlist, date a religious person, pull on the bus and be ghastly.

All the while, my unpopularity with Yahoo! readers persisted. Some of the nicer things I was called in 2011 included: retarded, sad, bitter, camp, sexist, male-bashing, illegible, ungodly, a peddler of 'arse gravy', disgusting, "a small, dim-witted creature" and most commonly of all: a woman. And that's just in one article.

I've been asked to write up some more dating resolutions for 2012 but I'm pretty sure they haven't changed much, so rather than writing new ones, I'm going to re-list last year's and reveal how I got on — revising the resolution for 2012 if necessary. Here goes…

[Relevant: What does your love horoscope say for 2012?]

It was about a year ago that I first experimented with online dating and since then I've met a lot of internet women. I've found them a pleasant bunch in the main and thankfully the experience has left few emotional scars — at least on me. Generally, one of three things has happened when I've met girls online.

1.) I don't like them much so I don't see them again
2.) I don't like them much but I end up sleeping with them anyway, and stop seeing them shortly afterwards
3.) I do like them, so I sleep with them but then I realise later I don't like them much and I stop seeing them shortly afterwards

After two dates with Carina, it seemed we were in the early stages of scenario 3). She liked me, I liked her and on our third date, we would sleep together probably. At least, she had declared as much — with Clarkson-esque tact — on date two.

Sure, there had been bumps along the way. You may recall Carina got a bit annoyed about my slow communicating and apparent lack of keenness . But we were

I went a bit crazy earlier. I was fantasising about having a kid. Not changing its nappies, or hearing its first words or teaching it to play football. I was just imagining telling people I was expecting one. I envisaged sending a text to a particular pal, Chris, to give him the momentous news. What would I say? Or would I not send texts? I'd send out a group email — no, too impersonal. I'd call everyone individually. But not everyone, too impractical.

So where would I draw the line? As this daydream progressed I inevitably began to consider its other key player: namely, the mother of this fictitious baby. I don't know who she is, obviously. But I could create a picture in my mind, nothing wrong with that. And I did come up with a picture — a pretty girl with short blonde hair and a red top. Then another picture formed — an oriental-looking girl in a purple dress. I imagined them both as my wife.

I knew who these girls were. That's when I realised I was going crazy.

[See also: The 10