Last weekend I discovered an app that changed my life as a single woman.

As I'm sure many of you fellow single women do – I have a list of Odd Jobs that require a Very Tall Person or a ladder – neither of which I possess.

On the same list is also a whole heap of other Odd Jobs which require basic handyman (or woman) skills – which I also don't possess.

To paint you a picture, instead of purchasing a ladder to change a lightbulb in my bedroom ceiling, what I prefer to do is sit in absolute darkness like The Blair Witch Project for six months, attempting to do my makeup by the light of my phone torch.


Instead of upskilling, I'll just save up this list of OJs for when I'm dating someone again – at which point I'll subtly start to palm them off.

Last weekend however, I was introduced to MyTask – a revolutionary app that lets you delegate chores to random people on the internet.

The MyTask app is an on-demand marketplace where people can post any odd jobs they need done and the amount they are willing to pay – and this is how I came to spend my Sunday morning with my new surrogate boyfriend, Mark.

While I sat on my living room floor drinking coffee in my pajamas, Mark from MyTask fixed the broken switch in a lamp I haven't bothered to do anything about for two years.

Mark fixed the lamp, went on his merry way and promised to be back next week to change my lightbulbs.

While I'm toying with whether or not I could ask Mark to pop round once a week to blow dry my hair, I reckon there's a million round-the- house things you could legitimately get MyTaskers to help you with, and that got me thinking.

There's no denying MyTask is a game-changer for singletons – and we're all well versed in everyone's favourite surrogate life partner, Ubereats. But why stop there?

I know an app won't keep you warm at night – but in the interim, don't put off those OJs anymore, my gal.

Here's how to build a surrogate boyfriend out of apps.



I used to have a boyfriend who would iron all my shirts for me, because while (I hope) I possess other valuable skills – patience is not one of them.

I'll iron a shirt for 30 minutes and end up screaming because it will still turn out more wrinkled than when I began.

If like me, you are a Modern Feminist Woman who cannot iron without having a Nervy B - that's Sinead speak for nervous breakdown - and you don't have a kind boyfriend to do it for you, might I suggest Laundromap?

Simply book in what time you want your clothes picked up and a lovely person will come collect them.

I personally reckon Sunday morn is a go-er. That way, you can just drag your corpse to the front door, hand your crumpled bag of rags over and shiver back to bed - basking in the fact that while you may be spending the day marinating in self pity and hangover sweats, some other poor soul is doing your life admin for you. Divine.

Geeks on Wheels

Cooked your laptop from watching too many dodgy Putlocker streams of the Kardashians, and "miscellaneous things on incognito mode"?

Same. No judgment here my friend.

Instead of sending a thinly veiled "Hey how have you been?" message to the guy in your high school IT class who you should have dated because now he works for Google, simply book a "Geek" and they'll zip round to your house and help you out.

Green Acres

Obviously I know women can mow lawns too, for god's sake. This isn't about not being ABLE to do things though, this is about being BOTHERED to.

Got lawns and CBF with the upkeep? Fair enough mate, live your truth.

Simply book a chirpy whippersnapper in a festive green shirt to come do it for ya, you glamourous, husbandless housewife.


While I'm assuming there's no app for getting someone to come over and do sexy bits to ya (unless that's how you use Tinder, and if it is then I applaud you), there is Blys – a mobile massage service.

Launching in New Zealand imminently, soon us singletons will be able to order G-rated physical contact with just one swipe.

And hey, it won't just be great for lonely spinsters – fed up couples can use it too.

No longer will you have to pretend to care about what your boyfriend is saying just to get him to keep rubbing your feet.

No longer will you have to ask him to explain the plot of The Wire, right from the beginning - knowing it's bought you at least 15 more minutes of pathetic half-hearted foot patting.

Simply pay for someone to touch you like they consider your physical pleasure equal to their own!