So the conversation with my ‘casual fling’ who himself decided we shouldn’t be answerable to each other goes something like this;
Him ‘I havn’t seen you in a week, you don’t text as much as usual and you didn’t answer my call yesterday’.
Me ‘I’ve just been busy, I’m sure you’ve been managing without me’.
Him ‘Look, I’m not stupid I know you’ve been going out on dates. The grapevine works pretty quickly you know.
Me ‘I never thought you were stupid, I’m not going to hide anything from you but I’m not going to e-mail you my social calendar’
Him ‘So what’s he like then?’
Me ‘Who?’
Him ‘This guy you’ve been dating’
Me ‘There is no guy, it’s different people’
Him ‘Oh brilliant so there’s loads of them’
Me ‘I didn’t say loads, Jesus! They’re only dates and anyway why have you got a bee in your bonnet? You’re the one who “isn’t ready” for anything serious anyway’
Him ‘Don’t take the piss Dani’…..
Well I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, surely if he really wanted to make a go of things after all then he’d tell me to stop seeing anyone else, take me off the market and have a proper try at things. I’ve just re-read the conversation and it sounds like I’m a right bitch but I’m not, I do want things to work out with him but when I was free and single with not a date in sight he crapped himself at the first sign of us getting involved and made it crystal clear he wasn’t up for that. This is how we came to our agreement, we’re only supposed to be providing ‘company’ for each other when it suits and he’s clear I’m not going to sit around and wait for him to get over his commitment phobia.
It upsets me, he upsets me a lot in fact because if truth be told my heart would like things to work out between us but my head knows he’s going to blow hot and cold on me a thousand times so I know I’d be silly to direct my energy towards him. I’m such an idiot, I went round in response to a barrage of texts and calls to pop in and see him even though I said I was busy, he can be really persistent but then he’s a salesperson like myself so I shouldn’t fall for his tricks. I’m now late for a train to meet David for our second date so this really isn’t a good start but if truth be told I wanted ‘casual fling’ to see me all dressed up and know what he’s missing out on by playing silly games.
I have a word with myself on the train before touching up my make up and when I see David he looks immaculately turned out as I expected. He’s slightly flushed and says he’s run to meet me as he was also running late and the fact he hasn’t had time to get nervous shows through. He greets me with a big hug and kiss on the cheek showing he’s genuinely really glad to see me. It’s nice and I’ve erased the evenings earlier drama’s from memory already. We chatter away over a couple of cocktails in a nice bar on the marina and the difference is dramatic from our strained first date. Apart from me nearly choking on my overly peppered main course (I hate pepper) it was a really fun evening, we had a couple more drinks after dinner and had a really good laugh. When he walked me to the station to catch the last train I missed it because we were snogging like teenagers on the platform! It actually pulled up, collected passengers and went again without us noticing. Now I am a proud woman but I have to say I thought it was really gentlemanly when he insisted on pre-paying the cab driver for my taxi home.
So I wake up slightly hungover but much happier on Saturday and I’m right off the idea of placating ‘casual fling’ when he starts hassling me by text. Not that I’ve suddenly decided David is ‘the one’ or anything but just because David’s behaviour has shown me I deserve better. I’m seeing a whole group of my girlfriends for pizza tonight and they are going to want a detailed update. I better go easy on the wine though, I need to be fresh faced for my dinner date with Mark tomorrow……
Dani
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Friday, 19 June 2009
Blog 4 - It gets worse before it gets better
My Roomie meeting a nutter hasn’t put me off, he wasn’t dangerous – just deluded! We are still spending far too much time on adjacent laptops scouring our new favourite website for the men of our dreams. I crack on with squeezing a few more dates into my already busy social calendar and it’s like my dirty little secret. A wise old lady once told me not to care what people think of you because other peoples opinions are none of your business. Fair enough, but I still don’t want to be judged as desperate or for people to think I must have something wrong with me (ugly lady garden maybe?) to be 26, not a complete minger and on a dating site! I find myself telling my Mum I can’t make dinner because I’m stuck in meetings after hours when really I’m sat waiting to interview the next candidate in a bar somewhere!
I exchange a few e-mails with an estate agent who lives a few miles away. I can’t say it’s a profession I fancy marrying into but surely it means he’s a good communicator and has the tenacity and drive that David could do with! He’s only got one photo and it’s been taken on his mobile in the mirror by the look of but I’ve given up judging appearances from photo’s. We have a quick chat on the phone and he’s really lively and enthusiastic and asks for a date straight away so coffee on Saturday lunchtime is agreed.
I’m not a lazy person and not even tired but for some reason I can’t be bothered to walk the 2 minutes from the nearest car park so I just take a space on the street with a maximum stay of 1 hour. I can see through the window of the little French café there’s a guy waiting with the tell tale posture of expectation. When I walk in he knows it’s me and immediately stands up to greet me politely. He’s very tall and dressed like…..something out of the early 90’s?? Pinstripe flat fronted trousers, larger than life loafers and an open collared shirt with a silver chain of the fake designer variety (maybe Giorgia Amandi – you know the sort!). I’ve noted this all in the space of a nano-second but (in text speak) if that didn’t make me ‘pmsl’ enough the glass eye did. I’m not kidding. You couldn’t make this stuff up.
Bless him, he’s very clean and well ironed in the last decades fashions and has lovely manners but the failure to mention the replacement article in his face did leave me a little shocked. His nervous twitches and booming laugh at all the wrong points in the conversation did nothing to help me overlook the physical aspect of things. Thank god I have a bona fide excuse to leg it before I get a parking ticket just as I’d taken the last sip of my cappuccino. He was a cracker!
Later that day David called to ask me out for dinner and drinks the following Friday at this nice Marina in the next town, it sounds good and hopefully a few glasses of whatever will have the desired effect. In the meantime I’ve arranged to meet a guy called Mark for an after work drink on Thursday, he works in finance but is really into his music and festivals and comes across as really down to earth but my expectations have totally dropped after my encounter with One Eye’d Willy! Well I couldn’t have been more wrong, I walk up the steps and through the door of the bar to see Marks beautiful smile and enormous brown eyes. He looks pretty dapper in his suit but his hair is dark and messy and curly showing he’s not all squeaky clean! We sit down chatting and laughing and exchanging gig stories for about 2 hours. He’s relaxed and funny and it’s just all I had ever hoped a first date would be. We talk about family, friends and work and he just seems to catch my drift about everything. I don’t feel I have to sensor my humour (I do for most people!) and I leave on a high with dinner arranged for the following Sunday there and then.
So now I’m right in the thick of it dating like a New Yorker and what I’ve negated to tell you is that all this time I’ve sort of been ‘involved’ with a friend of a friend. So why am I still searching if I’m seeing someone you ask? Well I’ve known this guy for years and used to fancy him when I was about 18. We bumped into each other soon after I became single and lots of coffee’s, texts and e-mails ensued. I got quite excited about it all actually but it quite quickly became apparent that he was a commitment-phobe and was still reeling in the wake of a dysfunctional relationship. If truth be told I am still hoping it’ll work out but he knows I’m on this dating site and hasn’t tried to stop me so I guess that tells me it isn’t going to. I don’t have any intention of cutting it off right now though because I’m craving male company when it suits and a girl has needs to be fulfilled and I’ve got no intention of crawling bars and taking home drunk strangers for that!
But soon starts kicking up a fuss when I’m not as ‘available’ as usual due to my heavy dating schedule…..
I exchange a few e-mails with an estate agent who lives a few miles away. I can’t say it’s a profession I fancy marrying into but surely it means he’s a good communicator and has the tenacity and drive that David could do with! He’s only got one photo and it’s been taken on his mobile in the mirror by the look of but I’ve given up judging appearances from photo’s. We have a quick chat on the phone and he’s really lively and enthusiastic and asks for a date straight away so coffee on Saturday lunchtime is agreed.
I’m not a lazy person and not even tired but for some reason I can’t be bothered to walk the 2 minutes from the nearest car park so I just take a space on the street with a maximum stay of 1 hour. I can see through the window of the little French café there’s a guy waiting with the tell tale posture of expectation. When I walk in he knows it’s me and immediately stands up to greet me politely. He’s very tall and dressed like…..something out of the early 90’s?? Pinstripe flat fronted trousers, larger than life loafers and an open collared shirt with a silver chain of the fake designer variety (maybe Giorgia Amandi – you know the sort!). I’ve noted this all in the space of a nano-second but (in text speak) if that didn’t make me ‘pmsl’ enough the glass eye did. I’m not kidding. You couldn’t make this stuff up.
Bless him, he’s very clean and well ironed in the last decades fashions and has lovely manners but the failure to mention the replacement article in his face did leave me a little shocked. His nervous twitches and booming laugh at all the wrong points in the conversation did nothing to help me overlook the physical aspect of things. Thank god I have a bona fide excuse to leg it before I get a parking ticket just as I’d taken the last sip of my cappuccino. He was a cracker!
Later that day David called to ask me out for dinner and drinks the following Friday at this nice Marina in the next town, it sounds good and hopefully a few glasses of whatever will have the desired effect. In the meantime I’ve arranged to meet a guy called Mark for an after work drink on Thursday, he works in finance but is really into his music and festivals and comes across as really down to earth but my expectations have totally dropped after my encounter with One Eye’d Willy! Well I couldn’t have been more wrong, I walk up the steps and through the door of the bar to see Marks beautiful smile and enormous brown eyes. He looks pretty dapper in his suit but his hair is dark and messy and curly showing he’s not all squeaky clean! We sit down chatting and laughing and exchanging gig stories for about 2 hours. He’s relaxed and funny and it’s just all I had ever hoped a first date would be. We talk about family, friends and work and he just seems to catch my drift about everything. I don’t feel I have to sensor my humour (I do for most people!) and I leave on a high with dinner arranged for the following Sunday there and then.
So now I’m right in the thick of it dating like a New Yorker and what I’ve negated to tell you is that all this time I’ve sort of been ‘involved’ with a friend of a friend. So why am I still searching if I’m seeing someone you ask? Well I’ve known this guy for years and used to fancy him when I was about 18. We bumped into each other soon after I became single and lots of coffee’s, texts and e-mails ensued. I got quite excited about it all actually but it quite quickly became apparent that he was a commitment-phobe and was still reeling in the wake of a dysfunctional relationship. If truth be told I am still hoping it’ll work out but he knows I’m on this dating site and hasn’t tried to stop me so I guess that tells me it isn’t going to. I don’t have any intention of cutting it off right now though because I’m craving male company when it suits and a girl has needs to be fulfilled and I’ve got no intention of crawling bars and taking home drunk strangers for that!
But soon starts kicking up a fuss when I’m not as ‘available’ as usual due to my heavy dating schedule…..
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
Blog 3 - From Nil-Point to Nutter!
Luckily he’s not wearing a vest and geek glasses but there is definitely something a bit ‘Mr Muscle’ about him. He doesn’t have a very ‘manly’ walk and his hair looks suspiciously like his mothers spittle was involved in the styling process. His voice seems a bit weak and high pitched in reality and I immediately remember a sales tip I was told years ago; your voice sounds an octave lower on the phone so always pitch up to sound cheerful.
Right there in the bar while saying polite hello’s I have hit the harsh realisation that photographs and telephone voice do not maketh a man. It’s about the mannerisms, confidence and swagger which can only truly be seen in the flesh. It’s crystal clear that David does not have the gravitas I had hoped for but we got on so well on the phone I’m hoping this first impression will fade. We sit down and chat for about an hour but to be honest I couldn’t hear much, the bar wasn’t that noisy but he just wasn’t adjusting his voice accordingly. Now, I can make conversation with a blind mute if need be and it’s my job to be able to lead a conversation with poor communicators but I don’t want to have to do this on a date!
I can’t work it out really, well I can but I’m disappointed so I’m trying not to listen to myself. He’s clearly a really genuine guy, he’s intelligent and has some lovely physical features but when you put the whole package together his lack of experience with women is quite apparent and his presence just generally lacks impact. When we said our goodbye’s he said he’d call me the following day and we left it at that. I saw him drive off (at least he has a nice car) and went home to spill the beans to my flat mate (or Roomie as we called each other since we moved in together). She said to give it another chance and not to underestimate the power that nerves have over some people even if they don’t affect me.
Fair play to the guy – he wasn’t deluded and he knew that sparks didn’t exactly fly but he called….and he asked how I thought the date went. It’s not like me but I didn’t have the heart to really tell him how freakin’ terrible I thought it was so I just explained that it was a bit strange meeting up after having already built up a persona in my head. I wasn’t mistaken, he is a sharp cookie – he may be lacking many things but his honesty in assessing the situation was admirable. He said he thought it was a terrible date, really strained and didn’t reflect how well we’d been getting on by phone. At least he got it off his chest! We ended up having a good laugh about it, putting it all down to nerves and arranged to have dinner and a couple of beers to lubricate any future tete a tete’s.
I’m not the sort of person to put all my eggs in one basket however, meanwhile I’ve still been scouring the profiles and checking out any new talent coming onto the market. I’ve been enjoying cheeky e-mail chats with a few of the respondents from my initial e-mail campaign. Some had blatantly got their Mum’s to write their profiles because they couldn’t string a sentence together when left to their own devices but I have arranged a few more dates as a result of better communications, none of them fill me with as much excitement as when I initially found David’s profile but I’ve realised that’s irrelevant - you can’t tell the ripeness of a peach by a photo after all!
My ‘Roomie’ has also registered on the same dating site, it’s been hilarious because it’s like our new favourite hobby. We’ve spent hours sat on the sofa on our laptops comparing profiles of guys we like the look of. We’ve also been cyber hit on by lots of the same men which is funny. There was one guy whose profile was a bit sparse and his picture wasn’t terribly clear but we had both exchanged a few messages with him as he liked all the same bands as we do.
Roomie arranged a date with this guy in one of our locals and I might have done the same depending on the outcome, we’ve never had jealousy issues between us you see. Apparently he had the conversational skills of a mute but the one thing he wanted to know was if she was in contact with anyone else on the site. Roomie was flummoxed by this and obviously said yes, that’s the point surely! He thought that was bad form and that she shouldn’t be shopping around anymore. Just to clarify; this is five minutes into a bad date with someone she’s met on the internet and he’s demanding loyalty. Well Roomie obviously didn’t want it to go any further anyway as it was clear matey was harbouring issues but she was incensed! She said that was ridiculous and he was a hypocrite anyway as he’d been messaging me. She told him my user name and what he’d said to me just to rub salt in the wound but he denied it and ran out of the pub.
That’s nutter no.1 off the list then!
Right there in the bar while saying polite hello’s I have hit the harsh realisation that photographs and telephone voice do not maketh a man. It’s about the mannerisms, confidence and swagger which can only truly be seen in the flesh. It’s crystal clear that David does not have the gravitas I had hoped for but we got on so well on the phone I’m hoping this first impression will fade. We sit down and chat for about an hour but to be honest I couldn’t hear much, the bar wasn’t that noisy but he just wasn’t adjusting his voice accordingly. Now, I can make conversation with a blind mute if need be and it’s my job to be able to lead a conversation with poor communicators but I don’t want to have to do this on a date!
I can’t work it out really, well I can but I’m disappointed so I’m trying not to listen to myself. He’s clearly a really genuine guy, he’s intelligent and has some lovely physical features but when you put the whole package together his lack of experience with women is quite apparent and his presence just generally lacks impact. When we said our goodbye’s he said he’d call me the following day and we left it at that. I saw him drive off (at least he has a nice car) and went home to spill the beans to my flat mate (or Roomie as we called each other since we moved in together). She said to give it another chance and not to underestimate the power that nerves have over some people even if they don’t affect me.
Fair play to the guy – he wasn’t deluded and he knew that sparks didn’t exactly fly but he called….and he asked how I thought the date went. It’s not like me but I didn’t have the heart to really tell him how freakin’ terrible I thought it was so I just explained that it was a bit strange meeting up after having already built up a persona in my head. I wasn’t mistaken, he is a sharp cookie – he may be lacking many things but his honesty in assessing the situation was admirable. He said he thought it was a terrible date, really strained and didn’t reflect how well we’d been getting on by phone. At least he got it off his chest! We ended up having a good laugh about it, putting it all down to nerves and arranged to have dinner and a couple of beers to lubricate any future tete a tete’s.
I’m not the sort of person to put all my eggs in one basket however, meanwhile I’ve still been scouring the profiles and checking out any new talent coming onto the market. I’ve been enjoying cheeky e-mail chats with a few of the respondents from my initial e-mail campaign. Some had blatantly got their Mum’s to write their profiles because they couldn’t string a sentence together when left to their own devices but I have arranged a few more dates as a result of better communications, none of them fill me with as much excitement as when I initially found David’s profile but I’ve realised that’s irrelevant - you can’t tell the ripeness of a peach by a photo after all!
My ‘Roomie’ has also registered on the same dating site, it’s been hilarious because it’s like our new favourite hobby. We’ve spent hours sat on the sofa on our laptops comparing profiles of guys we like the look of. We’ve also been cyber hit on by lots of the same men which is funny. There was one guy whose profile was a bit sparse and his picture wasn’t terribly clear but we had both exchanged a few messages with him as he liked all the same bands as we do.
Roomie arranged a date with this guy in one of our locals and I might have done the same depending on the outcome, we’ve never had jealousy issues between us you see. Apparently he had the conversational skills of a mute but the one thing he wanted to know was if she was in contact with anyone else on the site. Roomie was flummoxed by this and obviously said yes, that’s the point surely! He thought that was bad form and that she shouldn’t be shopping around anymore. Just to clarify; this is five minutes into a bad date with someone she’s met on the internet and he’s demanding loyalty. Well Roomie obviously didn’t want it to go any further anyway as it was clear matey was harbouring issues but she was incensed! She said that was ridiculous and he was a hypocrite anyway as he’d been messaging me. She told him my user name and what he’d said to me just to rub salt in the wound but he denied it and ran out of the pub.
That’s nutter no.1 off the list then!
Blog 2 - Finally Bagging The First Date...
It turns out that every time a new bit of livestock comes to market on this dating site potential prospects are alerted by e-mail which may explain the influx of interest. The guys who chose the option to just press a button and ‘wink’ at me are immediately categorised as being either shy or lazy, and woe betide the ones who bothered to e-mail and spelled something wrong. I received at least half a dozen messages from guys asking why I’d dressed up as a potato which just left me incredulous. I mean what a stupid thing to ask, isn’t it obvious that I was dressing the potato up? This isn’t going be as easy as I thought and it’s clear that as usual, I’m going to have to do the hunting to get what I want.
I discover there are search functions much like Autotrader - you can look for what you want by size, age, colour and distance from home. Well I can’t believe my luck when I tap in my requirements, there’s loads of totty! I knew it, they’ve been sat there ripe for the picking all the time. Within minutes I’ve shortlisted half a dozen guys who have well written profiles, really nice photo’s and good vital statistics listed. Obviously I’m mortally offended they haven’t already contacted me but then again I’ve always been pretty quick off the mark. I lead by example and send a short but friendly e-mail to my key targets....and then I wait.
My first e-mail comes from a guy called David who looks right on the money! He’s 6ft tall with gorgeous dark brown eyes, is in good shape (not that I zoomed in on his topless holiday snaps) and has a beautiful smile. He has a passion for food, a good job and a degree under his belt. He’s a couple of years older than me and says he’s looking for a partner in crime. He’s the one, he’s got to be! On paper he’s everything I’m looking for. We exchange a couple of emails and it just gets better, he comes across as a sharp cookie, likes mountain biking and camping, has me in stitches with his wit and is a huge Spooks fan. So in true MI5 not 9to5 style we arrange a telephone rendezvous for the following evening. I won’t keep you in suspense, we spent an hour chinwagging and could have carried on if I didn’t have to be somewhere. He didn’t immediately arrange to meet and I’m still not au fait with the etiquette but I must admit I would like to have been asked.
Another chat a week later however and I’ve sealed the deal, I hate to admit it but as expected it was me who initiated the meeting and suggested where and when. He was all a bit ‘well I don’t mind, whatever you’d like’ which I took as politeness but was tempted to dismiss as lameness! Being such a dominant female I like a bloke to call the shots with dates as it gives them enough rope to hang themselves with; they’ll either get it right and impress me or I’ll laugh them off the shortlist. I am a little thrown though, it just doesn’t seem as easy to cast ones usual aspersions in the alien environment of Internet dating. However, I am human and I am excited about a date with a man who is profiled to be perfect future husband material.
Underneath all my bravado I am often ridiculously sensible so I arrange to meet in a bar I am very familiar with but isn’t my local (so I feel safe but won’t be stalked if he’s a nutter). I also arrange the standard ‘get out clause’ with my mate of her phoning with news of the mortality of my (thousand times dead already) granny if I text to say he’s a freak. I haven’t told him my address and I’ve said I’m free for an hour or so before meeting a mate so he won’t be able to bore the tits off me if he’s a dweeb but will be left wanting more if he’s a hunk. Not that I’ve thought about this too much at all.
I stroll down there in there in my favourite skinny jeans that have been tumble dried on the hottest setting for extra ass lift, a nice but not revealing jumper and a pair of knee highs that sit somewhere between ‘prim horse rider’ and ‘right goer’. It’s a winning combination if ever I wore one. I’m at the bar first (damn it) but only just, he texts to say he’s just parking and wasn’t familiar with the area but will be there in 30 seconds……and he is, I think. Is that him? He’s looking at me and grinning, he does fit the description and resembles the photo’s and hasn’t lied about his height but as we greet and I assess the full scale model I’m a little flummoxed. He just has this uncanny likeness to Mr Muscle!
I discover there are search functions much like Autotrader - you can look for what you want by size, age, colour and distance from home. Well I can’t believe my luck when I tap in my requirements, there’s loads of totty! I knew it, they’ve been sat there ripe for the picking all the time. Within minutes I’ve shortlisted half a dozen guys who have well written profiles, really nice photo’s and good vital statistics listed. Obviously I’m mortally offended they haven’t already contacted me but then again I’ve always been pretty quick off the mark. I lead by example and send a short but friendly e-mail to my key targets....and then I wait.
My first e-mail comes from a guy called David who looks right on the money! He’s 6ft tall with gorgeous dark brown eyes, is in good shape (not that I zoomed in on his topless holiday snaps) and has a beautiful smile. He has a passion for food, a good job and a degree under his belt. He’s a couple of years older than me and says he’s looking for a partner in crime. He’s the one, he’s got to be! On paper he’s everything I’m looking for. We exchange a couple of emails and it just gets better, he comes across as a sharp cookie, likes mountain biking and camping, has me in stitches with his wit and is a huge Spooks fan. So in true MI5 not 9to5 style we arrange a telephone rendezvous for the following evening. I won’t keep you in suspense, we spent an hour chinwagging and could have carried on if I didn’t have to be somewhere. He didn’t immediately arrange to meet and I’m still not au fait with the etiquette but I must admit I would like to have been asked.
Another chat a week later however and I’ve sealed the deal, I hate to admit it but as expected it was me who initiated the meeting and suggested where and when. He was all a bit ‘well I don’t mind, whatever you’d like’ which I took as politeness but was tempted to dismiss as lameness! Being such a dominant female I like a bloke to call the shots with dates as it gives them enough rope to hang themselves with; they’ll either get it right and impress me or I’ll laugh them off the shortlist. I am a little thrown though, it just doesn’t seem as easy to cast ones usual aspersions in the alien environment of Internet dating. However, I am human and I am excited about a date with a man who is profiled to be perfect future husband material.
Underneath all my bravado I am often ridiculously sensible so I arrange to meet in a bar I am very familiar with but isn’t my local (so I feel safe but won’t be stalked if he’s a nutter). I also arrange the standard ‘get out clause’ with my mate of her phoning with news of the mortality of my (thousand times dead already) granny if I text to say he’s a freak. I haven’t told him my address and I’ve said I’m free for an hour or so before meeting a mate so he won’t be able to bore the tits off me if he’s a dweeb but will be left wanting more if he’s a hunk. Not that I’ve thought about this too much at all.
I stroll down there in there in my favourite skinny jeans that have been tumble dried on the hottest setting for extra ass lift, a nice but not revealing jumper and a pair of knee highs that sit somewhere between ‘prim horse rider’ and ‘right goer’. It’s a winning combination if ever I wore one. I’m at the bar first (damn it) but only just, he texts to say he’s just parking and wasn’t familiar with the area but will be there in 30 seconds……and he is, I think. Is that him? He’s looking at me and grinning, he does fit the description and resembles the photo’s and hasn’t lied about his height but as we greet and I assess the full scale model I’m a little flummoxed. He just has this uncanny likeness to Mr Muscle!
Blog 1 - Finding a Man on the Information Superhighway
So here I am at 26 years old hitting the hard realisation that adult dating has entirely eluded me. I’ve been in back to back relationships from my teenage years up until recently, I’ve had a number of months out there partying and testing my new found freedom but if truth be told I really would like to meet a partner in crime at some point and I am reliably informed that dating is the preferred route. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve got plenty of time but I want to find out what’s out there now so I don’t start s****ing myself I’m going to be a permanent spinster in 5 years time.
When I was tucked up and blinkered with a boyfriend the internet dating revolution completely passed me by but a funny ad on the TV immediately makes me think I fancy a crack at it. I don’t lack confidence as a person and I seem to have chatted up every good looking bloke in every bar in this city and been disappointed to find that they haven’t got a brain cell to rub together between them! I’m also shocked to find that they all seem to be about 21 (or less) so either all my age appropriate matches are elsewhere on a Saturday night or I must be subconsciously trying to pull the demographic I would have 5 years ago.
Internet dating seems like an obvious (not to mention efficient) way of casting the net wider and if initial communications are via e-mail I can at least check out their level of literacy before wasting any time on someone who isn’t going to stimulate me upstairs. I’m not being harsh, I’m just realistic and don’t want to risk dying of boredom while giving some unlikely candidate a chance. The way I see it, if I’m out there looking and considering this route to market then surely some of my male counterparts are doing exactly the same. So I crack on and sign up to the advertised site.
The individual dating profiles seem akin to the sort of details estate agents put together to sell a house; ‘22 years old with great features and a fantastic front elevation….’ You catch my drift? It’s obvious that you’ve got to sell yourself on here and I’ve been in sales for years so I attack the task in hand with a competitive air acknowledging I need to pitch this at just the right level to sort the wheat from the chaff.
I want to get a few photo’s on my profile, I’m an averagely pretty girl but I do have a crowd pulling smile and no fat ass so that’s a good start. Apparently the weighty girls (as Calvin Harris would say) have a habit of limiting their photo’s to head and shoulder shots which should be banned under the Sale of Goods Act in my book. I don’t have any recent pics of myself and I’m obviously going to do my hair and put something decent on but I’m not going to prance in front of the lens like a show pony. My mate kindly snaps away at me sat on a bench in the local park while I grin with gay abandon and pretend it’s entirely spontaneous and not completely staged. I’m quite pleased when we upload them and my mate insists they are a good likeness.
I write a witty intro about myself seasoned with a good dose of feisty personality and a dash of my inappropriate sense of humour, they need to know what they’re getting into! I ensure there is a distinct lack of cheese (you wouldn’t believe what sap some people have written on their profiles) and I tick boxes saying I like live music, animals and outdoor pursuits. My final hook is “Message me, I’m famous….I was in the local advertiser in 1986 for winning the primary school ‘Best Dressed Potato’ competition”.
I go live and the messages come flooding in, mainly wanting clarification about the exact nature of the potato competition but it’s a start. I set to checking out the quality of my prospective suitors……..with a reasonable list of parameters of course.
When I was tucked up and blinkered with a boyfriend the internet dating revolution completely passed me by but a funny ad on the TV immediately makes me think I fancy a crack at it. I don’t lack confidence as a person and I seem to have chatted up every good looking bloke in every bar in this city and been disappointed to find that they haven’t got a brain cell to rub together between them! I’m also shocked to find that they all seem to be about 21 (or less) so either all my age appropriate matches are elsewhere on a Saturday night or I must be subconsciously trying to pull the demographic I would have 5 years ago.
Internet dating seems like an obvious (not to mention efficient) way of casting the net wider and if initial communications are via e-mail I can at least check out their level of literacy before wasting any time on someone who isn’t going to stimulate me upstairs. I’m not being harsh, I’m just realistic and don’t want to risk dying of boredom while giving some unlikely candidate a chance. The way I see it, if I’m out there looking and considering this route to market then surely some of my male counterparts are doing exactly the same. So I crack on and sign up to the advertised site.
The individual dating profiles seem akin to the sort of details estate agents put together to sell a house; ‘22 years old with great features and a fantastic front elevation….’ You catch my drift? It’s obvious that you’ve got to sell yourself on here and I’ve been in sales for years so I attack the task in hand with a competitive air acknowledging I need to pitch this at just the right level to sort the wheat from the chaff.
I want to get a few photo’s on my profile, I’m an averagely pretty girl but I do have a crowd pulling smile and no fat ass so that’s a good start. Apparently the weighty girls (as Calvin Harris would say) have a habit of limiting their photo’s to head and shoulder shots which should be banned under the Sale of Goods Act in my book. I don’t have any recent pics of myself and I’m obviously going to do my hair and put something decent on but I’m not going to prance in front of the lens like a show pony. My mate kindly snaps away at me sat on a bench in the local park while I grin with gay abandon and pretend it’s entirely spontaneous and not completely staged. I’m quite pleased when we upload them and my mate insists they are a good likeness.
I write a witty intro about myself seasoned with a good dose of feisty personality and a dash of my inappropriate sense of humour, they need to know what they’re getting into! I ensure there is a distinct lack of cheese (you wouldn’t believe what sap some people have written on their profiles) and I tick boxes saying I like live music, animals and outdoor pursuits. My final hook is “Message me, I’m famous….I was in the local advertiser in 1986 for winning the primary school ‘Best Dressed Potato’ competition”.
I go live and the messages come flooding in, mainly wanting clarification about the exact nature of the potato competition but it’s a start. I set to checking out the quality of my prospective suitors……..with a reasonable list of parameters of course.
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