Why are left-wing men such relentlessly dull dates?

As Diane Abbott opens up about her previous romantic relationship with Jeremy Corbyn, Helen Coffey warns against the pitfalls of going out with comrades who take life just a little too seriously

While I’m all for socialism, it’s not particularly welcome in the realm of romance (Getty Images/iStockphoto)

As someone who has always been something of a Jeremy Corbyn fan girl – I joined the Labour Party in 2015 purely inspired by his rousing leadership bid and was thrilled when he got the gig – it pains me to say the following: I don’t think he’d be much fun to go out with.

Maybe I’d already have surmised as much had I ever really thought about it. But now, it’s official. Sharing an excerpt from her forthcoming memoir in The Guardian this weekend, Labour MP Diane Abbott opened up about her romantic relationship with Corbyn in the late Seventies. The picture she painted was… well, “austere” might be the kindest word for it.

While she talked affectionately enough about the man who would become a lifelong friend and political ally, Abbott gave a fairly damning impression that felt eerily familiar to many women who read it. One passage in particular quickly went viral on social media:

“I began to realise that, realistically, ours was not a match made in heaven. We were too different. I had a range of interests and enjoyed reading and the theatre, but Jeremy was 99 per cent absorbed in party politics. The only other thing I remember him spending time on was growing vegetables in his back garden. Once, after I lamented our lack of social activity as a couple, he pondered it for a few days and told me we were going out. Feeling excited, I dressed up nicely and we bundled into the car. I had no idea where we were going – perhaps a nice wine bar? It turned out Jeremy’s idea of a social outing was to drive me to Highgate cemetery and proudly show me the tomb of Karl Marx.”

Diane Abbott has written about her previous relationship with Jeremy Corbyn in her upcoming memoir (PA)

There were other clues that dating Corbyn was not going to be a barrel of laughs. When they spent Christmas together, Abbott “learned where Jeremy got his personal austerity from”. Completely at odds with her own family’s “jolly Jamaican Christmases”, where tables groaned with both traditional British festive fare and a Caribbean feast, the Corbyn clan, though “lovely”, offered an alcohol-free zone where “dinner seemed mostly about boiled vegetables”. Oh, and the house was “freezing”.

When he whisked her off on an exciting-sounding motorbike trip to the south of France, Abbott was quickly to realise that this would mean spending an awful lot of time waiting at the side of the road, while Corbyn fixed their not-so-trusty steed. “Jeremy being Jeremy, it was a socialist motorbike, an East German model” – and one which frequently broke down.

Even when they finally reached the campsite where they’d spend their summer holiday, it became apparent that they had very different ideas of what might constitute a good time. Abbott was looking forward to sampling the local cuisine; Corbyn “unpacked his motorbike saddlebags to reveal a week’s supply of instant macaroni and other processed foods”. She was, understandably, “horrified”. After much discussion, she managed to negotiate just one lunch out to fulfil all her gourmet Gallic fantasies. It perhaps came as little surprise to both of them when the relationship naturally fizzled out.

Hot date? Jeremy Corbyn took Diane Abbott to Karl Marx’s grave (Getty Images)

The reason I say these stories felt familiar is that, though different in content, their tone is something many women I know have experienced echoes of, in one form or another. Especially in your twenties, it was practically a rite of passage to date a “Corbyn”: a man who at first impresses with his commitment to principles and politics; who takes the plight of the world and humanity at large seriously; who philosophises about the betterment of society and his fellow man during protracted late-night monologues sitting at the kitchen table. But, though it may take time to admit it to yourself, at some point it hits you: principles and fun don’t always go hand in hand.

While I’m all for socialism, it’s not particularly welcome in the realm of romance, unless, of course, you’re willing to add the word “Champagne” in front of it (something I’m all for taking literally). I still remember the guy who would batch-cook us big lentil stews – because going to a restaurant, even for a special occasion, was too extravagant. The one who refused to get me a token Valentine’s gift because the whole thing was “a capitalist ploy”. The one who raised a judgemental eyebrow anytime I got a Starbucks coffee or bought something last minute from Amazon, saying it was “fine as long as I didn’t mind rewarding tax evasion”. And the many more who – hopefully unlike Jeremy Corbyn – were determined to mansplain politics to me and dictated what the “correct” opinions to hold were. Ironically, the most self-proclaimed “lefty, liberal, woke” ones would often be the worst offenders.

And, though a man who’s impassioned and forthright in his beliefs can be sexy, the bleak banality of constant frugality is not. While there is much to take seriously in this world, there’s a reason a sense of humour is one of the most attractive traits a person can have (though arguably taking someone to a graveyard when they expected to be heading to a wine bar is quite funny). Being given tracts and manifestos to read as homework or getting dragged to the local party meeting to spend your date night with some of the most, ah, “eclectic” souls you could ever hope to meet – these pastimes may be worthy in and of themselves, but aphrodisiacs they most certainly aren’t.

While I’m all for socialism, it’s not particularly welcome in the realm of romance

Even with the decent, upstanding men who are less invested in political activism, mismatched expectations can feel too far apart for the gap to be bridged comfortably. My friend’s first-ever Paris minibreak with a partner saw her storming back to the hotel in tears after he tried to march them into their fourth museum – complete with accompanying audio tour – of the day. “I just wanted to sit on nice terraces drinking red wine and kiss on bridges, not ‘educate’ myself,” she wailed down the phone. “I just wanted some romance!”

So what’s the answer? Sharing the same values and ideologies can of course be the best starting point for a meaningful relationship; none of us wants to be driven into the arms of a braying, red trouser-wearing finance guy called Hugo just because he’s happy to splash out on a fun experience or two. But really, it all comes down to being interested in the other person, listening to their wants and needs, and occasionally doing the things they might enjoy instead.

Life is bursting with potential adventures and sources of frivolity and delight. If you suspect you may be erring on the “Corbyn” side of things when it comes to your love life, consider relaxing the rules. Be prepared to go out for dinner every once in a while. Ditch the East German motorbike. And only take her to the tomb of a famed political theorist if she’s explicitly asked to see it.