Online dating. Seriously? I mean, is this what it's come to? I don't really like it and frankly, I'm rubbish at it. I'm no good at sifting and, in honesty, am completely shallow. I routinely reject men based on their photos and for the simplest of reasons. I mean, is it really wrong to refuse to reply to a man because I don't like the sofa they're sat on or the T-shirt they're wearing? I don't think so. How could any sane woman date a man who thinks Next is OK or who allows ditzy floral print cushions a la Laura Ashley into his house? I rarely start conversations with anyone who is wearing bad clothes, has nasty wallpaper or who, in all honesty, just looks a bit thick or a bit dull. I also have pretty unreasonable criteria that I subject my potential online suitors to. Apart from the pre-requisite decent clothes, nice home furnishings, normal-to-handsome appearance, height 5ft 10 and above; ideally, they should also have no kids, not want any kids and be prepared to put up with my kids. Too much to ask? I'm not so sure, but let's face it, it is rather restricting. As a consequence and as you can imagine, my online dating life is really rather limited. I did however, spend a very pleasant few weeks last summer emailing and texting someone we'll call A. His profile was quite appealing, he had his own car, own house, decent job. Photo showed him to be nice looking, inoffensively dressed and with pretty standard wallpaper. So far so good. Then, he did the unthinkable and asked me to meet him. FFS! I was enjoying the chat, the flirting and now I actually had to meet him? In real life and everything? So I stalled (obviously) – on the pretence of trying to sort out baby-sitters naturally (well, why else have kids?). Only I stalled for too long and he only went and met someone else..... I got a very sweet text saying he thought he may regret it as I, and I quote, 'sounded fab' but that he didn't want to date two people at once. (Seriously? What's wrong with him? Me, I'd have had no such problem with keeping a few on the go while I made up my mind but, whatever....). I did the grown up thing, thanked him for his honesty and told him I hoped it worked out for him. (Obviously, the last bit was bullshit. I actually hoped she turned out to be a vile bitch who made his life hell). Anyway, I deleted
his number, forgot about the online dating world and got on with my summer.
Anyway, months on and no online dating to speak of, 2011 rolls around. Lovely single friend C and I plan to think positively and give the whole online dating thing another shot. Well, more accurately, C does. I just talk about it (people who know me well will know I'm really good at saying the right things, whilst doing absolutely nothing about it. All talk and no action I believe they call it and it generally gets me into all manner of trouble). I kept looking but it was no good, too many nasty sofas and hideous T-shirts (why oh why would someone wear a T-shirt that says 'I'm on Holiday – Fuck off'?). Until that is, I get an email from A.... Yes, he's back! (See, being grown up sometimes pays). His photo's not as flattering this time if I'm being honest, but I thought he was quite hot before, so..... (I'm desperately trying to overlook the fact that he's wearing a fleece in his photo. A fleece? And it's navy blue! WTF is wrong with this man?) We chat some, his relationship didn't work out (ha!) and he thinks it would be cool to meet. I remember C and our plan to give this a proper go, so I take the bull by the horns and arrange a date for the following Sunday afternoon. And now I'm scared.....what if he looks at me and thinks I'm hideous? What if he actually runs away? I spend hours agonising over the whole thing with C and she promises to coach me in the ways of, let's face it, blind dating. Up until this point of course, I assume that he'll hate me and think me horrific....that is until a conversation we have, something about Noel Edmonds and not dying his hair, ooh and by the way, talking of hair, how do I feel about grey hair on guys? Fucking hell! Grey hair! And a fleece! Am I about to go on a date with my dad? This bloke is younger than me – I was not banking on grey hair as well as a fleece. (And before you ask, the lighting in his photo is clearly suspect – his hair looks to be a regular shade of brown). I'm seriously reconsidering at this point. I've spent a week and several evenings of getting reassurance from exasperated girlfriends preparing to go on this date ('he won't hate you, you're lovely', 'he's lucky that you're interested in him' etc etc. Even hot, single male friend P tries to convince me I'm a really good catch. P is, of course, completely perplexed by my fleece aversion; 'seriously Michelle, a fleece is warm and practical'. Hmmmmm. P suddenly not quite so hot...) and now I have the curve-ball of grey hair and a navy fleece (yes, really am that shallow – sorry). C convinces me that he sounds like a really nice man, grey hair can be hot (I'm trying to keep Matt LeBlanc and George Clooney in mind here) and that I'll probably have a perfectly lovely time. Hmmmmm. I drag my reluctant body out of my bed on Sunday morning and lie in the bath for an hour and a half texting girlfriends and begging for an excuse, any excuse that I can think of to get out of the grey hair, navy fleece date. (And yes, I already have a text drafted for C. It says 'Abort, abort!' and it's standard first date stuff. I only have to press a couple of buttons during the date and she'll come up trumps with the standard 'you have to come quick, something bad's happened!' call. I may well be needing this...) Whilst lying there pruning up, I decide just to check the online dating site to make sure I've not missed any messages....and there it is. An email from A. My damn phone isn't configured properly (or something) so I can't open the bloody email. Shit, bollocks, shit! Now I have to get out of the bath, go downstairs and boot up the laptop. (I must just clarify that by now it's midday. I'm due to meet him in Bristol at 1.30pm, this email can't be good). Email opened......he's only sodding cancelled!!! With 90 minutes to go! Wanker! How dare he?? I never even got to tell him I didn't really want to meet him with his sensible outerwear and his grey hair, that I had to be gently talked into it be the ever-patient C. Prick! He cites a hangover from hell and really hopes we can rearrange 'if you'll forgive me'. Uh....no, we most certainly cannot rearrange YOU DICK!
I decided that the only option for me at this point was to hang my head in shame and wallow in the misery of being rejected by a man I haven't even met yet (really, does it get any worse?) in the only way I know how – at the pub with wine. C and I spend a rather pleasant afternoon over-analysing everything that's gone wrong with us and men over the last, oh I don't know, 5 years or so and I return home feeling much better and if I'm honest, really quite relieved.
(It may also interest you to know that I received a couple of grovelling emails from A......good! I clearly haven't replied – I do have some pride you know!)
