I’ve always parroted Russell Brand’s theory on his own life: my life is a series of embarrassing events strung together by telling people about my embarrassing stories.
Another thing you need to know before reading any further; I am a serial singleton. Not something I particularly broadcast, not something I’m particularly proud of. I don’t know how to meet people, and the people I do meet have very little interest in me in that way… so cue the use of an Internet dating site.
I was too proud to try Internet dating for a very long time. A woman I worked with a while back was using Plenty of Fish… a free Internet dating site. She told me all the stories of meeting men, the funny ones, the awkward ones, the ones she’d see again, the ones she’d never see again. She had some success on there and it got me thinking, but not doing.
Every so often I meet up with some friends I used to go to school with. One of the girls happened to mention that she was on Plenty of Fish too. She’s stunning, and lovely and even she was on Internet dating. So I thought, sod it. So I signed up. Of course you get the weirdos looking for a one night stand, and then the straight-up weirdos who live online. But in there, well, there are some really nice guys.
The first time on there, I got chatting to a few guys, started to feel good about myself, but when it came to the crunch… none of them wanted to actually meet me. So I started feeling bad about myself again. And I deleted my profile.
So I returned again recently. New profile, new perspective on the thing. This time, I’m not investing in it. Who really cares? I’ve gone this long with no one liking me, would it really be the end of the world if I never found anyone? Let alone online.
Well I got talking to this guy. He seemed nice enough. We had a fair bit in common. Ok, so he was younger than me, but he seemed… nice. And he wanted to meet me. So we picked a day, I told a friend, he said he’d ring me so we could hear each other before our “date”. Seemed like the second attempt was working out well!
I planned on telling my designated friend exactly where I was going with this guy in case she needed to tell the police where I had gone. I text the guy on the day having not heard from him in a while. My gut already told me that it wasn’t going to happen. I had that feeling that it wasn’t going ahead. He text me back and explained that something had happened in his life and he couldn’t go on dates. I had 3 options: not reply, be rude to him for not telling me sooner, or reply saying that its fine and it happens… I realised I wasn’t rude enough to not reply and that I certainly wasn’t a bunny boiler. I told him it was nice to have almost met him, and I moved on. I wasn’t shocked.
It hasn’t put me off, not yet. But I’m not hoping for the world, or the stars. I’m happy with my friends and family, sure sometimes I wish I had someone who was more than a friend. But I have to believe it will happen when it happens.
And who needs a date on a Sunday afternoon? Instead I’m chilling in sweats watching Jonathan Creek… maybe this is why I’m single…