Cancelled

 

Like an addict, the reward system in my tiny affection starved brain soon started craving that swiping action, and I logged back into Tinder and Bumble. I also set up an OKCupid account, which I have done before with minimal success each time. I am not sure why I thought things would be different on this occasion, and of course it wasn’t.

OKC is different to Tinder and Bumble in that it’s not a swipe based app. You have the option to fill out much more information, you have to complete a compatibility questionnaire that asks your opinion and stance on a range of topics.  There’s a limit on the number of profiles you can like in one day, but you can send intro messages without matching.

On the surface, this makes OKC pretty appealing, and would lead you to believe that it might not be haunted by the same grubby sex pest that roam the halls of Tinder, asking women if they want to be pissed on or join a threesome. As it turned out, my 2-day run on OKC merely resulted in a conversation that reminded me exactly why some people are single.

His name was Tony. He sent me an introductory message which actually reflected something in my profile (usually men just say, ‘I liked your profile!’ this is probably because they have been told to mention the profile, but can’t actually be bothered to read it so just use a copy and paste approach)

I checked out his photos. My immediate thoughts were, ‘I’m not attracted to his physical self’. I told myself that I should give guys like this a go, and just because he wasn’t immediately physically appealing to me, didn’t mean that he couldn’t be if I got to know him. Then the messages started. Floods of essay length messages that swayed between trying to psychoanalyse me, to berating himself for sending such messages, to telling me about dates he had been on or was going on; his parenting style; his ex; his thoughts on whether or not my childhood had damaged me mentally; asking for my number, getting salty when I said no… on and on it went.

I went out for the night (pre 10pm curfew times) and showed my friend Elizabeth the messages. After a while, she went, ‘I can’t be fucked with this,’ and handed me the phone back.

I blocked Tony when I got home that night, and deleted OKC.

This is what I'm working with, folks

Julian - 38, 39 (September 2020)

I matched with Julian a few days before I deleted Tinder again. It’s time for proper adults, I thought. He had ‘super-liked’ me. He had two photos, neither of which really showed what he actually looks like. His messages were articulate, and there was no immediate move to sex chat, or pressure to swap numbers. All excellent signs.

We met on a sunny Sunday for a coffee. He was slighter than I expected and had definitely added a couple of inches to his height. On the plus side, he had made an effort with his dress, and looked smart and smelled nice. He was obviously in good shape, and enjoyed being active. The conversation flowed; he was interesting and his stories about his life (his childhood, his own adult children, his work) were engaging. He didn’t monopolise the conversation like the D Word did. We had a lovely afternoon, and though I didn’t get that, ‘yes, I fancy him,’ feeling I agreed to meet again.

We went out for dinner this week, and again I had a lovely time with him. I just couldn’t picture wanting to kiss him. What is wrong with me? I thought, for the 1,000,000,000 time since I started dating. Here is a genuinely nice man who seems interested in me, is intelligent, normal and can hold a conversation. Yet when he went to hug me goodbye, it just felt so wrong and odd. I can’t explain it, just that I wanted the hug to end immediately, and kind of turned my face to the side so he couldn’t move in for a kiss.

He had text by the time I got home again, asking to meet up at the weekend. I said no. I wished him luck, and again wondered why I hardly feel attracted to men anymore. I guess Tony would have some theory on that, that my attachment style is avoidant or whatever. It could just be that I am so utterly tired of dating that my lady boner has forever withered and died.

Rogue’s Gallery

 Mickey (September 2020)

I matched with Mickey the same week I matched with Julian. Mickey, so called because he reminded me of annoying twerp Mickey Bunce from Drop Dead Fred... if Mickey Bunce had frosted tips, perma-tanned skin the texture of an elephant's arse, jug-handle ears and was an awful person.

Like a fool, I agreed to exchange numbers, and soon learned that Mickey’s primary method of communication is memes, gifs, and photos of himself from 20 years ago.

He seems to be one of those people that’s on a ‘spiritual journey’ and will send you motivational quotes and tell you about the healing power of crystals, David Icke videos and he kept telling me to ‘be more positive’ and ‘you’d look better if you smiled more’. It seems to me that people like this are often the least willing to go through any kind of self-examination, and blame their unhappiness and bad luck on external forces, like the vaccinations they had as a child.

Responses to my questions would result in 10 or 15 long replies, but he would ask me zero questions in return. He sent me 6 videos of his new workplace, where he walked around proudly announcing, ‘this is our wet suite’ and ‘this is the reception…we don’t manage this bit,’

Oh Mickey, you’re so bland, you’re so bland you make me want to blow my brains out.

Yesterday I decided I couldn’t be bothered to schlep to Gerrards Cross on a Friday night to have date with someone that had more red flags than a bullfight. I texted him saying I was sorry, but I’d changed my mind and wished him the best of luck.

I have been left on read, and he has not replied…sometimes the trash takes itself out.

I have cut out all the photos of album covers he sent me, because you know...we don't need to be here all day.

Bob (September 2020)

Me: we should meet up for a daytime rum one weekend.

Him: I’m pretty busy for the next few weeks, but I’ll let you know when I’m free.

Later….

Me: so what you up to this weekend, then?

Him: Nothing, no plans. I really wanna have sex all weekend

 As of 23 September, all apps have been deleted and uninstalled. I’ve given it a solid 7 months on this round…you can’t say I haven’t tried.  If I’m going to go on a break, it needs to be a proper one, not a Ross Geller one.

I will continue to keep my eyes open for real life chances, as rare as they seem to be. But for now, the world of on-line dating can do one.

 

 

 

 

 

100 Dates - Slid Into His DMs

I have a story about ASB Phil (the match that used to send me shirtless selfies tagged ‘thoughts?’)  that I am surprised I forgot about.  One day when I was Insta stalking him, I saw that he was ‘friends’ with my gym crush. Gym crush, also known as ‘him what sparkles like them in Twilight’ because of his preternaturally pale skin, was part of a series of crushes I had on men with beards. That phase of my ‘love-life’ was sparked off by Captain Haddock and is thankfully over now because I’ve realised that a beard just tends to cover up things like weak chins and no neck. Apparently beards also have a lot faecal matter in them, and if that doesn’t put you off, I don’t know what will.

Anyway, after it was clear that ASB Phil was a huge flake who wasn’t ever going to actually meet up, I did a fairly creepy thing. I insta messaged HWS, saying something along the lines of ‘hey don’t you go to my gym?’ and said that I’d that he’d come up in my list of recommended follows.

I can’t remember which one I asked about the other, it seems logical that I would have asked HMW about ASB, but it turns out that they fell out a long time ago, but would not divulge why. Probably because it was ridiculously petty, and because neither of them would actually be able to remember.

After a while, we swapped numbers and then agreed to catch up when we were next both at the gym. There then followed the most awkward encounter of my life. We said hello, we hugged, we had a chat and then moved on to our respective workouts. Immediately I knew that this whole thing had been a Very Bad Idea and I guess he did too, because he sent me a panicked message when I got home. I’m not ready for a relationship [woah, fella! Who was even talking about that?] Women are a total nightmare, I just want to go to the gym and workout and not have to talk to anyone there…

I replied saying it was OK and asking if he’d prefer me not to say hello to him in future.

‘Yes please.’ He said back.

I saw him a few more times, at the gym and once in the supermarket where we pretended not to see each other. I guess he moved gyms because I haven’t seen him in ages. I think this could be the first time I’ve actively scared a man out of town, but then he was ginger so it may have been townsfolk with pitchforks and flame torches that did it.

The takeaway from this is not to be a creepy weirdo stalker, and that it’s only ‘sexy’ when Penn Badgely does it.

Rogue’s Gallery

Eric (2018? 2019? Can’t remember)

Once we swapped numbers, he just sent me multiple pictures of his penis in various states of excitement, asked if I thought he was the biggest I’ve ever seen. Then he vanished. I inadvertently almost showed my mother his proud member when I was looking through my phone, forgetting that even if you delete WhatsApp photos, Samsung phones archive them.

Freud (2018, 2019)

We matched twice. The first time was on OKC in 2018, where the conversation stopped after he told me he would like to watch me have sex with another man (alright, Fred West)

We matched again in early March this year, and I reminded him what he said. He replied that he said stuff like that to provoke a reaction. He said that used OLD as some kind of ‘sociological experiment’. (buuuuuullllshiiiiit).  We spoke on the phone once, and then he too vanished. He crops up a lot on the apps, and is one of the rare ones that changes their photos each time. I wonder if any of these men have considered therapy.

 This week’s crush

The mighty Sam Neill. I have watched both Jurassic Park, Event Horizon, Dead Calm and In the Mouth of Madness all fairly recently. I don’t know what it is, his blue eyes, his soothing voice, or the fact he looks like the kind of man who would be good at many things; sheep herding, DYI, digging wells, building houses, talking about philosophy and the universe. Mostly it’s probably because when me and my sister saw Jurassic Park as teenagers we got obsessed with his fine butt. Would Sam Neill send you photos of the tip of his dick popping out of faded y-fronts like a baby mole popping its head out of the ground?

 No, he would not. Bootylicious Sex God Sam Neill, I salute you. 

100 Dates - The Season of New Boots

 The D Word -  32, 34  (August 2020)

He said, ‘you look better than your photos,’ which in hindsight, I think is sort of a neg.

He also said that he knew he wasn’t a ‘bad-looking guy’ and had no need to steal other men’s girlfriends because he could easily get his own. He told me that he only had one plate, one cup, and one set of cutlery which he would give a daily rinse and then wash properly at the weekend. Is this disgusting or taking the Kondo Method to dizzying new heights? What does he do when someone comes over for dinner? It is like that episode of Alan Partridge where his superfan stalker makes him a cup of tea and serves it in one of those plastic doohickeys hospitals give men to piss in when they are bed bound?

We got properly drunk on the date, and I slipped over, spilling most of my drink. To defend myself here, the floor was VERY wet and I was wearing notoriously slippy-soled Vans.

We have met once more, when we attempted to have dinner on a Eat Out to Help Out night. We didn’t book anywhere, and every place in town was packed. He refused to wait in a line for food, so we ended up in a depressingly empty Walkabout where it cost £6.00 for two burgers with chips and a drink.

I ate my burned veggie bean burger and sipped my flat coke, and wondered, Carrie Bradshaw style, would this be a funny story we’d tell at our wedding?

Of course it fucking wouldn’t be. As the evening progressed, a I heard a lot about D’s life – his pole-dancing ‘ex’-girlfriend, his work ethic and how easily bored he gets; his lack of culinary skills (2 dishes on a rotation, cous-cous with butter and pasta with butter) and how a business rival forced him to close down; his statuesque sister and his embarrassing mother; that we was going to sell the house he owns in his home country and how he doesn’t like how small English roads are.

I also leaned that D by name, D by nature. He told me a story of a Tinder date, where every right-thinking man’s nightmare came true….his date was fat. Not just fat, but double the size of D. Which isn’t hard, being as D is the same height as me (5’4) and weighs about half what I do (9 stone, give or take a big shit here and there) He said that he almost turned around and walked out when he saw her sitting at the bar, her well-covered arse spilling over the bar stool. His mates were there (by accident, not design) and apparently took photos of the ill-matched pair, pissing themselves laughing, and sending them to all their mates on the group chat.

D leaned that I do not like vegan cheese, and that I have been working at the same company for 15 years.

That was over a week ago. I have heard nothing from D, and I don’t care. In some situations, it’s fine to not bother again. This is one of them.

33 -  Handsome is as Handsome Does (August 2020)

The train journey there and back took longer than the date. I am pretty sure he was immediately disappointed when we met, and the lack of interest showed in the stilted, awkward conversation. He told me that he lived with his ‘elderly’ landlady, and when I asked how old she was, he responded with, ’55,’

I texted him when I got home, and he replied said that he felt ‘no connection’. I responded saying it would be hard to gauge that after an hour, but essentially agreed with him. Shame, he was VERY handsome, but maybe so much so he didn’t feel the need to put in much effort.

Either way, I was pleased to be home before dark and in time for Derren Brown’s equally disappointing 20-year anniversary show.

35, 36, 37 – Babyface (again)

BF was dog-sitting the world’s most disobedient hound, who, we shall call Fenton. On our Saturday morning walk, Fenton, like his viral namesake, broke for the border with BF running after him shouting his name and getting ignored. Fenton then plonked himself under a shady tree where he refused to move for a good ten minutes, until I gave him all of my water.

I have seen BF twice since then. He has a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t know who Stephen King is, is addicted to Nando’s peri-peri sauce (so much so that I think it’s got mentioned each time we’ve met) and is terrible at responding to messages.

This definitely isn't going to develop into the kind of thing I'm looking for, and it's fun, buuuut I'm trying to change old habits. With that in mind…

An Announcement

I have been back OLD solidly since early March. Lockdown obviously made it much harder than usual, but as I approach my 42^nd birthday, it seems like a good time to take a bit of a break and reset.

When you’re having little luck at this, it’s very tempting to feel like there is something wrong with you, or that you hate men, or that you’re destined to be alone forever. When you find yourself slipping into old patterns of behaviour that don’t serve you in the long run, and you feel shitty about that, it’s time to take a step back and reassess things. Your approach to finding a partner, and the relationship with yourself.

I realise this all sounds terribly wanky, but it feels like the right thing for me to do at the moment. I’ll still be posting stuff about dating, but I won’t be using the apps for around a month.

September always feels sort of like a new start for me; it’s back to school time of year, the season is beginning to change, it’s my birthday (did I mention that yet?) Writer Marian Keyes called autumn ‘the season of new boots’. I don’t know how that fits in here - Nancy Sinatra? Made for walking? I dunno, but I like that idea. I’ll be back soon with some new boots!

Crushes of the week:

I’ve been a bit of a nostalgia trip recently and started re-watching ER (all episodes are steaming on All4 at the moment). Even though it started in 1994 (!!) it doesn’t seem to have aged at all. Thus my crush for this week is the cast of the first season. Noah Wyle is so young and cute he makes my heart hurt a bit.