Virtually Dating - Part Deux

So, I went back in for another round of this internet dating lark. I didn't really want to; there's a certain someone who I'd like to spend some time with but for a whole host of reasons (I've lost count now) he doesn't feel the same. I hate this but what can I do.....?

Anyway, the internet stuff.... I'm trying to put my theory of 'getting-over-one-guy-by-getting-with-another' into practice. I'm not sure it's going to work but you never know do you?

I digress. I've been chatting with several men – all of whom seem reasonable prospects. They're pleasant looking, not too many nasty items of clothing, no nasty home furnishings that I can see, so far so good......

I spent a rather fun evening in the week chatting via email and text with a pretty forward and quite cheeky guy who I found really quite funny at the time. We had a fun evening.....and he's really keen to meet up....but....and it's a big but; he is now totally doing my head in. That evening was fun, granted. But in the cold light of day, I really wasn't feeling it. Since Wednesday, despite me telling him I was totally unavailable until at least mid-week (trying to put him off – do you see what I did there?) he has texted me multiple times every day and left me messages on this godforsaken dating site. And I've replied to none. Is he a bit on the thick side or something? Is there something he's not quite getting? Now, as a reasonable adult, I really should get in touch and say something along the lines of 'sorry X, I really don't think this is going to work' shouldn't I? After all, my least favourite thing is being ignored. I just hate it. But still, I am a little mystified that after multiple ignored messages, he's still plugging away. Do people really do this? Without wanting to sound incredibly sexist and frankly a bit crap, it's a bit girlie isn't it? To keep on and on when you're being ignored? Anyway, I got the latest message late last night ('Hey, what u up 2 tonite babe?xxx' WTF??!) much to the amusement of the lovely BJM who left mine smirking to herself (but I hasten to add, agreeing with me that this guy's a pain in the ass and should be avoided like the plague!) I cannot keep up this level of ignoring for long though. The next message I receive will elicit a response – one he may not like, but hey, what's a girl to do? (I feel I must point out at this point that I can't cope with my cat being clingy and wanting me all the time. How the hell am I supposed to cope with a guy who's like it before I've even bloody met him?!)

Prospect number two seemed slightly more normal. Earlier in the week we arranged to meet up for an hour or so on Saturday afternoon in a fairly local pub. I was a bit nervous, it's fair to say, but up for meeting a new man (to help me get over my preferred man). He pulled up into the car park in an immaculate Audi A4 with personalised plates.....next to my filthy dirty, dented and scratched Corsa. Hmmmm.....how was this going to go? He did take a sideways look at my car, I immediately felt I should apologise for the state it was in, and he pointed out that maybe I should wash it and that there was in fact a car wash across the road. OMG! So, I was at my prickly best... We went to the bar where there was this whole scuffle about who would pay for the drinks. This bit gets on my nerves if I'm being honest. I offered to buy them, it's fine, I'm a working girl, I can afford a couple of drinks. But he did make rather a big deal about it proclaiming it to be 'a first'. I rather rudely (perhaps? I'm not so sure) suggested that maybe he was dating the wrong type of women....... And what did he look like? Well, he wasn't bad looking at all really. He was fairly inoffensively dressed. I didn't like his shoes and his hair needed work, but generally he was OK. (I know, I know)

And the chatting part wasn't bad really. (However, he had a very strong Midlands accent that I times, I'll be honest, I couldn't understand. I answered questions I couldn't really hear properly, so good knows what I've told him....!) It was OK until he told me he had dated someone I used to work with and who I know reasonably well. Now this woman, in recent months has had a rather tricky experience with a guy she met online and I spent the rest of the time with him going over in my head whether or not he was the man in question..... That rather took my concentration away from trying to decipher his accent, so in fairness, things went a little downhill due to my distraction. (My deductions were that he wasn't said nasty man, but I will be contacting her to get the low-down!) I also had in mind the thing that my good friend C always says. She reckons that if you can't see yourself shagging them, you probably shouldn't go back for a second date. So of course, that was on my mind too! And would I? Yesterday? No, I wouldn't. It's not looking promising is it? L and BJM however, think that I may be killing it too soon. Maybe, if he wasn't horrendous, he's worth a second look? I dunno. I'm sort of with C on this one. There has to be that spark I think and I just wasn't feeling it. C did actually refuse a second date with someone she admits was a perfectly nice man.....but she couldn't wake up to his chubby face everyday! (That's right isn't it C? I hope I'm not mis-quoting you!) And I really know what she means!

The date ended with a hug and a kiss and that was that. I have no burning desire to see him again and I suspect he feels the same. I sort of felt like a scruffy, tomboyish little (well big seeing as he's younger than me) sister with my dirty car and the paying for a drink and stuff. I'm just not sure I was feeling it.

So there you go. I am officially crap with men. I don't really know what I want (except the guy I can't have, obviously  :(  ) and I have no idea where to start looking. I'm still not feeling the love for the on-line dating. It still feels contrived and planned. I'd like something more spontaneous, more romantic really (and yes, I am a closet romantic. Where has all the romance gone? I'd love a grand gesture – not an expensive one, just a lovely don't-you-realise-just-how-much-you-mean-to-me sort of one.....sigh). As per my last blog; yes I probably am too fussy, yes my feelings for the one-that-won't-happen are probably fairly strong, no I'm not afraid of getting hurt - again. I just want something lovely to happen to me - I want someone to fall in my lap (so to speak) And yes, I know, I know, I'm living in a total dreamworld – we've been here before...

Anyway, if this men stuff doesn't work out (which is looking increasingly likely!) C and I have a plan. We'll live together with lots of cats, lots of Chinese takeaway, lots of trash TV and the occasional casual dating/sex experience....! And right about now, that doesn't seem such a bad idea!

Hearts and flowers? Pah!

So, I'm alone on Valentine's day......again. (Now, before you get the violins out, I guess I should put some context around this. This is actually only the second time since I was 15 that I've been alone on Valentine's day....that's not bad, right?)

Anyway, I'm alone. And I'm pissed off. I can't work out if I'm more pissed off that I'm alone or that I seem to be surrounded by people that have fantastic romantic plans for the day....when I don't. I get into work this morning and my lovely friend Phoenix (please don't be alarmed, this is not his real name, it's just a little thing we have. He's Phoenix – I'm Pfieffer. It's the small things.....) shows me some hideously soppy photos of matching egg-cups and heart-shaped lights his girlfriend presented him with that morning. (He thought it might make me hurl. He was, in fact, correct). The students have been mooning around all day looking star-struck and in love (I've thus far resisted the temptation to tell them that their heart will be ripped from their chest and trampled on right in front of them many times before they get even close to meeting 'the one'.......if 'the one' even exists that is. I feel it's fairer for them to discover that level of heartache for themselves...) Even the Head wished us all a 'happy Valentine's day' during our staff briefing – I mean, FFS!

Valentine's day is actually Husband No 2's birthday (in fact he chatted to me for ages whilst picking up the children earlier, no doubt waiting for the obligatory 'happy birthday'. He didn't get it - he's a dickhead remember). And as it's his birthday, Valentine's never really got a look-in, so in fact, I haven't really celebrated (is that really the right word? Hell!) it since 1996. So why do I care? Why does the whole thing make me feel so utterly miserable, lonely and rejected? Because it's rammed down my sodding throat that's why! It's on TV, it's in every shop I walk into and it's everywhere I turn at work. So clearly, if I'm not with someone celebrating Valentine's day, I must be a sad loser of the highest order, mustn't I? And when I'm in a relationship and could get a lovely card and some flowers or chocolates or whatever (as long as it's not a cuddly toy. What the hell is that about? I've never got the women who appreciate cuddly toys. I actually think they're either a bit dim or have the emotional age of around 14) I don't give a shit. It's ironic isn't it? Valentine's only actually becomes a meaningful day in the calendar when you're not in a relationship.

Which brings me back to the whole being pissed off because I'm alone. Which I am. Pissed off that is (and alone, clearly. I think I've mentioned it haven't I?). I don't even want a capital 'R' relationship with a man who's calling me and texting me all the time, doing my head in. No, at the moment, I think I want something fairly low-key that doesn't involve my children, doesn't involve us being around each other all of the time (God, I'm far too busy for that!) and does involve nice drinks and dinner out, dvd's and wine in oh, and some good sex. It can't be that tricky to find can it? I'm not that hideous am I?

I went to see Avenue Q the other day (bear with me, it is relevant - honest) and, to my horror, found myself identifying with a puppet. (Yes, I've sunk that low). The puppet in question was Kate Monster who sang (in a song called 'It Sucks to be Me'. Uh....yep!), and I quote, “I'm kinda pretty and pretty damn smart. I like romantic things like music and art. And as you know I have a gigantic heart. So why don't I have a boyfriend? Fuck! It sucks to be me!”

Now, aside from the 'kinda pretty' bit (body-image issues.....you understand), that sort of sums me up. I have people telling me all the time that I'm a really good catch, that I'm funny, witty, intelligent, attractive, that won't be alone for long, that there's loads of men dying to go out with a girl like me, blah, blah, blah. And actually, a fair number of these people are real-life men. And sometimes it's even single men who are in the right age-bracket, not two-headed monsters, not complete assholes, who say those things. So, if that's the case.....WHY THE HELL AM I STILL ALONE??!

It could of course be that I'm just a little bit fussy (not that there's anything wrong with that. Fussy is definitely good if there's potential for the exchange of body fluids). There's no doubting that I could've arranged a number of online dates (God, how big-headed does that sound?) but honestly, if you'd have seen their details......... And plus, as I've said before, I hate that whole on-line thing – it feels so contrived. So that's not it.

It could be that I'm not as 'out there' as I think. That I have sub-conscious fears of being hurt and rejected........again. Actually, that's really not it either. I'm willing to take my chances of pain and heartache. It's what life's about surely? (plus I have masochistic tendencies, clearly. That, or a very short memory).

Some of my friends would argue that I still have feelings for an ex-beau and that in itself is a barrier to meeting someone new. This may or may not be true. (It's certainly not up for discussion here anyway.....confirmation in itself no doubt :o( Dammit!)

No what I'd actually like is for a lovely someone to just fall in my lap (so to speak). It's happened before, so it could happen again eh? It would certainly make life easier wouldn't it? To be pursued? And I've been pursued before, why not again? I'm sure I'd love it as much as I have in the past (and I do really love it - it's the best bit!) Hmmmmm......can't see it somehow......*Sigh*.

Ah well, until I'm prepared to put a bit of effort in, I'll just bear in mind the one Valentine's gift I did get today. A heart-shaped lolly that arrived during my tutor time with a note attached that said 'Dear Mum, lots of love from Poppy xx'

Love you kids :) <3

xx

Good on paper

I'm beginning to think that 'good on paper' rarely equals good in real life, particularly when it comes to men. It's puzzled me for some time....why the 'good on paper' guy rarely delivers. Now, I know that sounds harsh but let me explain...

I've looked for that 'good on paper', so-called ideal man at several points over the years. You know the one, handsome (yep, still shallow!), sexy, taller than me (by at least 3 inches – a girl does have to wear heels sometimes you know), doesn't take himself or life too seriously, reliable yet knows how to have fun, good in bed (well, obviously), I could go on...... Now, I'm not completely stupid. I understand that compromise is the order of the day. It's like buying a house. You may get the good sized garden, but it's likely that the kitchen needs updating or the bedrooms are poky – especially if you have a limited budget. And I do. I'm not kidding myself that I am attractive enough, witty enough, clever enough to snap up the perfect man but what I don't get is the ones that would look amazing on a 'man CV' but actually turn out to be a little bit disappointing. With men, you may get the handsome face, but they're dead dull. Or they're super-cool and witty but you just don't fancy them. The combinations are endless.

Take my first husband for example. He was popular, friendly, generous, good company, good-looking, fit, sporty, reliable(ish), knew how to have fun etc, etc– it was hard to find anyone who didn't like him. But...... and it's a fairly big but...... he just didn't do it for me. It took me a while to figure this out – I was only 16 when we met and 24 when we split, so you can cut me some slack! The fact that he didn't do it for me, despite all the wonderful attributes, was incredibly confusing. I mean, what was wrong with me? Several people questioned me on this. Had he done something terrible? Had I lost my mind? He was lovely, handsome, still popular, still generous, still loved me so what the hell was I thinking?! I couldn't answer that.

My hot, single friend P is another case in point. He's seriously good-looking, has a defined and toned bod, he's kind, he's generous, he's chivalrous – he's an all-round really nice guy. However, for me, he just doesn't have it. I can't explain why. He's lovely to spend time with, to have a chat with but I just don't fancy him – he just hasn't got the sexy thing. (Believe me, if he did, I'd be turning on the charm....big time!)

Of course, it also happens the other way. I've been involved with men who clearly aren't 'good on paper' but who I've been unreasonably attracted to. The most recent not 'good on paper' was a personal favourite of mine. It was never going to work of course, he was much younger, funny, very sexy and probably totally unsuitable for me and my life. (Plus the fact that none of my friends who knew him seemed very keen. That can't be good can it?) However, to me, my friends not totally sharing my affections for the unsuitable one was really the only fly in the ointment. I really liked him, we kinda 'got' each other and all in all had a jolly nice time together (well, I did. I can only assume he felt the same....)

Husband number two wasn't Mr Perfect on paper either. He was fine and all but when we got together, I think it's fair to say that not many people had us down as the 'ideal couple'. We met at work; I was Little Miss Sensible (and 24 and married – pretty boring I guess, to be fair), took my career pretty seriously, chasing promotions, working overtime etc... Him – not so much. He was younger (is there a theme here?), keen on beer, smoking, football and sometimes, frankly, being a bit of a loud-mouthed lout. (In the less-offensive sense you understand. I'd never have gone out with someone really common.) No, the thing that I really liked about husband No 2 was that he was funny, witty, humorous and just about every other word you can think of. He made me laugh out loud – all the time. And so did unsuitable younger man.

Now, I've done a lot of thinking about this...... and I've come to the conclusion that sometimes, 'good on paper' doesn't matter. The traditionally held belief that a man who's tall, dark and handsome, solvent, generous and so on, will be the perfect one for me just isn't true. I've worked out that for me to really want to be with a man, he needs to be sexy (well d'uh!). And sexy for me equals funny. And to be honest, you can't be a bit thick and be funny (I know, that's not really a very nice thing to say – but honestly – have you ever met a funny, thick person??) So (drum roll please....!) it's only taken 30-odd years for me to work out that for me; sexy equals funny, funny equals clever. Simples!

So the 'good on paper' guys I've mentioned; husband number one and hot, single friend P....? Are they not funny? Actually, no they're not. And clever? Husband number one? No, really not that smart (sorry, but it's true). Hot, single friend P? I don't know really. I've never asked him for his GCSE and A Level results (no, before you ask, he didn't go to university). I suspect he's not all that clever though if I'm being honest (so sorry if that's wrong P).

And husband number two? Is he clever? Yes, he really is. And witty, sharp and frankly at times, hilarious! (Damn him – he's also a complete dickhead you understand). Unsuitable younger man? Ditto. Clever, articulate and hysterical.

So, now I've worked that out it should be easy huh? I know I have a limited budget (but I'd like to think I was just a little bit funny and maybe a little bit clever). I know I'm not gonna get the lovely kitchen, the huge bedrooms and the enclosed 100ft garden. But just the kitchen will do...oh...and maybe one good-sized bedroom. I just check out the clever, funny ones right? And don't waste time with the not-so-clever, unfunny ones? Yep, that's a great plan Michelle. But they come is disguise don't they? Dressed up as good-on-paper so I get confused and everything (Hell, I even married one of these people – what hope is there?) What should I do? Get them to perform a comedy routine for me before I decide they're worth my efforts? Not sure that's gonna work... Nah, I guess what I do is keep looking, keep trying to ignore the good-on-paper thing and trying to remain more open-minded (eeeew....and maybe I may even have to rethink the 'no-nasty-clothes, no-hideous-home-furnishings rule....? eeeek!)

Hmmmm.... Maybe I'll go down the 'clever' route instead?

Anyone got a spare Mensa questionnaire I can photocopy.....?

Shoes

So sometimes, adult conversation retreats into the world of metaphor. I have no idea why this is but the other Sunday was one such occasion. K, A and I went into Bath for a bit of fresh air and a coffee and a catch up. My single love-life (or mostly lack thereof) is always of interest to the happily married K & A. They seem to enjoy my 'hilarious' (their word, not mine - not much of my love-life is that funny to me) stories of the things that happen in my world and, in return, they love to regale me with their advice. (NB: I will point out at this point that ALL my friends, without exception, like to give me advice. Most of the time I quite like it. Sometimes I listen, but a lot of the time I don't - I have a petulant teenage streak a mile wide). Anyway, this sunny Sunday was no exception. K advises me, as we drink our coffee in some chic pavement café (well, you never know who might be paying attention), that I should view dating like buying shoes. I should try on lots and lots of different pairs before settling on the most comfortable fit – apparently. Hmmmmm.

'I think what you need Michelle, is a nice, sensible, reliable pair of Clarks shoes. You know where you are with Clarks', K tells me.

'Uh.......no I bloody do not! WTF?!'

'But when was the last time you looked in Clarks?'

'Um – never? And can I just say that I'm more than a little insulted that you think that Clarks is remotely my style?'

'Michelle, Michelle.....it's not so much that Clarks is your style....I'm just trying to suggest you wear something more, well, appropriate. The last pair of shoes you wore for any length of time were totally unsuitable. They may have looked nice, but they gave you blisters and bunions galore. The heels were too high, they were far too pointed and frankly, you would never have been able to wear them for long. You know that. No, what you need now is a sensible, hard-wearing pair of shoes. Comfort is paramount.'

Now, I don't really find this funny. She's right, the last pair of shoes I was trying on weren't wholly suitable. But for the time I wore them, they felt pretty damn good actually and I really, really liked wearing them. Plus, they looked damned fine. And, if I'm being honest, I was kinda hoping I may just be able to break them in to being more suitable, a bit more reliable, certainly more comfortable and more my style, or I'd become theirs... such is the dreamworld that I often live in. I rather foolishly got more attached than was recommended to the inappropriate shoes and I know that K's talking sense.

Even so, the thought of Clarks.....are you serious?

A chips in at this point:

'Michelle, it's not so much the brand or design of shoes that you're considering. It's the fact that we're concerned that you don't even try them on. You see them in the window, think they look nice and suddenly have them on your feet preparing to do a 20 mile walk in them'.

Well....OK...maybe he has a point.... Obviously, I've never meant to do that. I'm a grown woman who's been around for, let's face it, a little while and shoes are shoes after all. They don't last forever and you only wear certain styles for certain occasions. I thought I knew that....but it's becoming apparent that I may not. I thought I was able to see the pretty party shoes for what they were, fun to wear on the odd social occasion but no use for everyday wear (unless of course, you're willing to put up with the painful blisters and frankly, I've had enough of those to last me a lifetime). Even so – Clarks? Really? Is this all that's left for me now?

I'm beginning to tire of this 'shoe' conversation (and by the way, why exactly are we talking like this? Is it somehow easier to tell me off about my shocking choice of men if they don't actually say the words? God knows, but I appear to be going with it....!)

'OK, OK Michelle. Maybe Clarks would be a bit too...well....old and boring' (Uh – yes it would thank you very much!) 'But how about considering a Timberland or a Rockport? Or maybe something like Dune – they have some lovely boots?'

'Just remember Michelle, you don't have to keep the first pair you try on. There are plenty of pairs of suitable footwear available for you. You have really lovely feet – any shoes would be lucky to be worn by you'.

I think we may just have gone too far now. There really is no reason for us to be talking in riddles about shoes – we're not spies. But for K, A and for me, it seems somewhat easier to give and listen to this sage advice if it's said in code. What is with that?? Maybe the words 'Michelle, you're frankly, just a bit crap at this 'men' lark' are just a little too brutal?

I've been left with some food for thought. They both have a point, nerves have been touched etc etc. I assure them that I'll bear it in mind the next time I'm 'shopping'. And I will. For a bit anyway. The draw of beautiful, uncomfortable party shoes is somehow a little too great... What I can assure myself (and everyone else for that matter) that I won't be doing however, is gazing longingly into the window at Clarks.

As for those inappropriate shoes that were too pointed, with heels that were too high, that gave me blisters and bunions galore....Would I wear them again?? Given the chance (which I won't be – nobody panic!) of course I would! Every time! Like I said, I have a petulant teenage streak a mile wide.... :)

Virtually dating.....or not

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!)