Anne Hegerty, known from The Chase, shared that her biggest fear about dating is having a man invade her personal space.
The quizzer, who was diagnosed with autism at 45, opened up about her challenges, mentioning a time when she unplugged her phone to stop a boyfriend from contacting her.
At The Paul Strank Roofing Charity Gala in Kensington, London, she honestly said that she thinks she would make a terrible partner.
Anne, 66, said, “I really struggle with being close to others and having anyone else in the house.
“I think a lot of autistic people don’t get married or settle down.”
Anne explained, “I don’t even have pets because of this, and my ability to live with other people is getting smaller. I need a lot of alone time.
“I always feel like I need more space than anyone can give me. If I wanted a relationship, I could find one, but honestly, I don’t.”
She also mentioned that her longest relationship only lasted four months. Reflecting on that time, she said, “It only worked for those few months because I was in Manchester. I kind of set it up so it wouldn’t last.”
In the end, she wrote to him to end things. “I remember crying with relief and then crying with guilt,” she shared.
Anne felt overwhelmed during that relationship. “Sometimes, I unplugged the phone because he tried to call me every day. I just wanted it to be over.
“I’d sit there waiting for the phone to ring, thinking, ‘Don’t phone, don’t phone, don’t phone!’ Other times, to get over the waiting, I’d call him, but that made him think I wanted to talk. I really just wanted to end it. I didn’t want to talk to him or anyone!”
Anne joked that she hasn’t lacked offers from admirers who seem to like her “Mrs. Trunchbull” Governess outfit.
She said, “I’m sure some people are attracted to the whole look of The Governess. I think there are some who might be interested if they let me.”
Anne said, “I do meet attractive men, but I know it won’t work out. I feel like it’s not fair to them because I won’t treat them well.”
She added, “I always want more space than they can give me. If I wanted a relationship, I could find someone, but I don’t.”
She thinks it’s better not to date at all and enjoys having men as friends more than women. She recalled a quiz she attended in June, where a woman pointed out they were the only two women in the room, but Anne hadn’t even noticed because she was talking to her male friends.
Anne also shared that this is part of why she never had children, even though she is great with kids. “I did want children, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it very well.”
About 20 years ago, two kids from her neighborhood used to come over. “We limited their visits to just one hour a day, but they always wanted to stay longer. They were wonderful kids, and we’re now friends on Facebook, but I couldn’t handle that for more than an hour.”
Anne takes her role as godmother to Mark “Beast” Labbett’s eight-year-old son, Lawrence, very seriously.
She said, “Lawrence’s birthday is at the end of November, so I usually send a birthday and Christmas present at the same time—but they are not the same gift. My parents had winter birthdays, and I knew they hated getting just one present for two celebrations.”
Anne joked that one of the gifts she gave Lawrence was a bit inappropriate—a toy crossbow. “So, weaponry,” she laughed. “But lately, I’ve been giving him Minecraft vouchers since he really loves that.”
She also mentioned that she has spent Christmas alone for the past 40 years. That’s why she’s especially happy to be playing the Fairy Godmother in this year’s panto, Cinderella, in Scarborough.
Anne, who was on I’m A Celebrity… Get Me Out Of Here in 2018, said, “Now that I’m in panto, I can say, ‘Sorry, I’m in Scarborough!’ and that’s my only day off.”
She sees it as a great day off. Even though many people invite her to spend Christmas with them, she prefers not to. “I don’t do Christmas dinner or a tree. When I was a kid, I just remember all the pine needles everywhere!”
Earlier this year, Anne took on another acting role, making a cameo as a neighbor in a film called Exorcising Barry, which is about a man obsessed with a demon.
Anne said that any chance of going to Hollywood is out of the question.
She explained, “America wouldn’t want me because I’m fat. I have a friend who went there for work, and even though she looks amazing, they told her she needed to lose weight. I’m fine with how I am, but they don’t like fat British actresses.”
Despite this, she has had great success in Britain. Talking about The Chase’s recent National Television Award win, she said, “I’m so happy. Bradley Walsh is amazing. It’s been 14 years, and I love it.”
She added, “Other kids used to sing in front of the mirror with a hairbrush. When I was younger, I practiced being interviewed for when I became famous. I don’t know why, but it’s always been my dream.”
I COMPLAINED ABOUT MY NEW NEIGHBORS’ HORRIBLE FOUNTAIN & RECEIVED A THREATENING NOTE FROM THEM.
The quietude of Elm Street, once a symphony of birdsong and gentle laughter, had been shattered. The arrival of the new neighbors, the Morlocks, had thrown the idyllic tranquility of their little community into chaos.
Initially, I had tried to be welcoming. A plate of freshly baked cookies, a warm smile, a friendly “Welcome to the neighborhood!” But my overture had been met with a chilling silence. The woman who answered the door, pale and gaunt, had regarded me with a suspicion that bordered on paranoia. “Ew, it smells awful,” she had muttered, her eyes darting nervously around as if I were some sort of disease.
Then came the fountain. A monstrosity of wrought iron and gargoyles, it stood imposingly in their yard, a constant, jarring presence. The incessant gurgling and splashing, day and night, had become the soundtrack to our lives. Sleep became elusive, replaced by the monotonous drone of the water.
The neighborhood, once a haven of peace and camaraderie, was now a battleground. Tempers flared. Arguments erupted at the weekly community meetings. Finally, a vote was taken – a unanimous decision to request the removal of the fountain.
And so, the unenviable task of filing the official complaint fell to me. I, the self-proclaimed peacemaker, the neighborhood’s unofficial ambassador of goodwill, was now the bearer of bad tidings.
That evening, as I returned home, a small, ominous package lay on my doorstep. No return address. A shiver ran down my spine.
Inside, a single sheet of paper, scrawled with menacing handwriting:
“I KNOW YOUR SECRET. YOU WILL BE POLITE TO YOUR NEW NEIGHBORS, OR EVERYONE WILL KNOW.”
Fear, cold and clammy, gripped me. Who was it? The Morlocks? Or someone else, someone watching, someone waiting for the right moment to strike?
The following days were a blur of paranoia and unease. I checked every window and door lock multiple times a night. I slept with the light on, the faintest sound sending shivers down my spine. My once peaceful neighborhood had transformed into a place of fear and suspicion.
The police, after much persuasion, agreed to investigate. They questioned the Morlocks, of course, but they denied any involvement. The woman, her face gaunt and drawn, maintained her innocence, claiming she was simply trying to enjoy her own property.
The investigation yielded nothing. No fingerprints, no witnesses, no concrete evidence. The threat remained, a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of our seemingly idyllic community.
I started carrying a small can of pepper spray, my hand instinctively reaching for it at every rustle of leaves, every unfamiliar sound. I avoided going out alone at night, my days filled with a constant sense of unease.
The incident had changed me. The once friendly, outgoing neighbor was now withdrawn, suspicious, constantly scanning the shadows for signs of danger. The peace and tranquility of Elm Street, shattered by the arrival of the Morlocks, had been replaced by a chilling sense of fear and uncertainty.
And the fountain, that monstrous, discordant symbol of their arrival, continued to spew its icy water, a constant reminder of the darkness that had seeped into the heart of their once idyllic community.I COMPLAINED ABOUT MY NEW NEIGHBORS’ HORRIBLE FOUNTAIN & RECEIVED A THREATENING NOTE FROM THEM.
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