I've joined an online dating site
The trouble is that there
Are too many gentleman searching
So some of them have to share.
It seems a shame
It's not the same
But still it has to be
Some ladies have to multi date
One of them is me
So as you may remember I had decided on the guardian as my dating pool of choice and so a couple of weeks ago I decided to sign up. I found a pic that wasn't too dreadful, and started the long form that is your internet profile.
There are free text fields in this thing - about you and what your looking for. And that's harder than it seems. So obviously you want to present yourself in the best light and at the same time appear modest and approachable. I'm still editing mine from time to time.
Profile set up, you surf the waves of available chaps seeking someone that might appeal.
I was happily awaiting my Mr Guardian-reading Charming when a colleague told me about a different site called Plenty of Fish. Less quiet more Oh Boys!
I was bored one night so I signed up. First impressions? There are a lot more men on pof than ladies. Within minutes my box was filled (pun intended) with saucy messages, declarations and invites for cocktails.
So what do you get when you pof (yes it's a verb)?
The younger slightly geeky lad, looking for true love but struggling to talk to women. Comfortable and certainly no threat. But also not a potential snugglebunny.
At this point I'm going to break off to mention a question I was asked when I said I didn't want to see a date without his clothes...
"Is that still important after you've been married?"
So for anyone still wondering the answer is YES! I'm middle aged, I'm not dead!
And back to the men
A number of obscene suggestions, strange young male torsos with no head (yes they made the joke) and one young man who wanted to worship my behind, (I've reserved the right should I ever be in Bradford, and so inclined, to message him with a hotel name & room number 😈)
Then the vicar turned up. Well the ex vicar. Nice guy. Experimenting with dating. I'm not supposed to talk about him much as his colleagues would not approve of him dating someone like me ("Witch!" "Heathen!")
So whilst lunch was nice, I wasn't the one for him.
Meanwhile I had spotted someone chez guardian that I liked the look of. I drafted a short witty note and sent it off. Alas no response.
10 days later I decided to try again. Armed with Oscar Wilde references and tongue firmly in cheek, I messaged again. Success! A reply! And a date. And that's all I want to say about that just now. (Life might well be like a box of chocolates but you usually get the nougat)
I rejected one chap having looked at his profile. He was a tad miffed and sent me some rather grumpy messages saying I wasn't all that and was he too old for a 27 year old. I replied that if they might want to date his child, they were probably out. And... BLOCK!!!
And then, well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. T'other day a chap started messaging me. We shared many interests, we liked the same movies, liked the same music, liked the same jokes. It all sounded fabulous. A date was set. And then the red flags started
- When I mentioned liking a film because of the chaps, he responded angrily and frankly pretty jealously.
- He mentioned that he didn't approve of social housing at all
- When I said I was talking in fact with other guys, he became angry and positively aggressive.
Date cancelled, chap blocked. I'm afraid you don't get to be possessive BEFORE you've met me.
By the way Mr Guardian and I messaged for a while. We set a date. We met. He was kind, attentive, looked like his pic, wore a tweed jacket, everything a girl could want. At he end of the night we kissed. And my knees did go to jelly. I walked home grinning like a schoolgirl.
A text asking if I fancied a second date. I did. And then the following morning, a message declaring no spark between us. No spark for him it seemed. My jellied knees not withstanding.
It's a bit of a blow to the old ego to meet someone you think could be someone and then have them turn you down. But as my dad always said "if you don't feel the thing then you don't feel the thing".
I was terribly adult about the whole thing. And, as Cecily Cardew would have done, I immediately broke off our engagement.
Couple of weeks in and I have to say I'm started to get a little jaded and tired with this already. Poffing is exhausting if you don't like ignoring people who've made the effort. And a bit depressing at times too. The guardian definitely brings with it a better class of opportunities for beaux. But maybe I should lower my hopes and up my standards.
