Internet Dating


Oh crap! I just got my first rude email from my internet dating site! Some bloke, seeing me on line, asked me if I wanted to msn to see his **** like right now! He actually used **** but I can kind of guess what was going to be on view.

On a more pleasant note, Cute Date Guy is back in contact (note to self, learn to create links`to past posts). Turned out he hadn’t gone awol, he’d gone to Stokholm and Amsterdam to meet some friends. What’s more two of my friends, who are usually quick to run down men, told me I was being too needy and demanding for expecting regular contact after one date, especially from someone met on the internet.

In fact my mate Amber, who met her guy on-line, told me he used deliberatly NOT email women for a week or so in order to weed out the ‘crazies’, ie the women who would get in a strop about it. Hmm I think that makes me a *****. I think we can all fill in the blanks.

A very cute guy has asked me out for coffee. Then he wants to take me to an exhibition of a photographer I really like. It sounds like a lovely evening. Just a shame it’s in sunny warm Paris while I’m stuck up on a hill in rainy fecky Cork!

I was trying to explain the dating scene in Ireland to my American friend Amber. She comes from a country where, strange people, if a guy likes a girl, he will ask her out on a date. I come from a country where the mating ritual includes getting drunk, snogging someone and it wasn’t too hideous an experience, ye might sort of tumble, stagger or literally fall into a relationship. It sounds primitive, it is primitive, but I can name a number of under three year olds who owe their existance to a pint of Guinness and a Bacardi and Coke!

Okay, I am being a bit facitious, it’s not that bleak…it just feels that way. Especially now that I don’t drink as much as I used to. How the hell does someone go about meeting someone? I could internet date here, however it is my home town and I’m slightly worried about joining the site for fear of whom I’ll find. Ireland is a small country and Cork is tiny. There’s just too much risk of coming across married relatives or friends philandering husbands.

My other problem is I live just outside the town, I don’t drive and I can’t afford taxis home. Seriously, a taxi can cost more then a budget flight back to Paris. Isn’t that dreadful, that one’s dating life is curtailed by sobriety and penuary?
Come to think of it, maybe I could just get a Ryanair flight to Paris, date the cutey, and pop home afterwards. I’m joking….but maybe…..!

Oh dear, I was just catching up with an ex on Skype, we didn’t date long and we are actually quite good pals. However at one point I did find myself shouting into the little camera to him, giving out at lengh. My angry face, combined with the dodgy fisheye camera can not have made for pretty viewing. Also as I talk quickly, especially when riled and becuase he’s Spanish, with dodgy English, it must have been like listening to furious incessant static.

The thing is, even though he was being annoying (to my mind, trivialising the effort I’ve been making here) I’ve a sneaking suspicion he may have become the whipping boy for my frustration at the lamer of the internet guys. I DO recommend internet dating heartily as long as you don’t take it too seriously but one would have to be made of steel not to become slightly battle worn when dealing with fickle eejits. However I suppose onn shouldn’t take it out on innocent exs, especially when they are just ringing to say hello.

However I have to admit it was actually quite cathartic! Anyway he can be a disparaging twit at times so if he didn’t quite warrent my ire this time, he has in the past, so he was due a giving out to: Sure he couldn’t understand the half of it anyway!

Huh! No word from Cute Date Guy today. Not that I’m checking…every twenty minutes. Im begining to wonder is it a cultural thing with Canadian men that they act all keen during a date, follow up with lovely emails requesting to meet again and then DISAPPEAR!

Surely they can’t all be being hit by buses, much and all as I would prefer to believe that rather then the alternative, which is that I manage to do something desperatly offputting by email. Surely signing off with my name combined with their surname is cute…..

I am joking! I SWEAR!

However my tendancy to type too fast combined with annoying French keyboard could be making for some typo ridden and tactless emails. Ah well, at least I’ve a date lined up with a mysterious Indian designer bloke to tide me over in the meantime; IfI ever hear from him again that is! As it is the only guy now actively seeking a second date is Married Guy. I’m almost tempted!

Ah married man is back in town after a ‘wonderful holiday’ with the family yet is now looking to go for lunch again. Wouldn’t that just make you give up on marraige as a concept?!

Meanwhile Cute Date Guy has gone slightly awol (ie not emailing since yesterday but I am nothing if not needy) but I won’t write him off yet. I suppose I have to give him credit for having a life in Paris outside internet emailing me. Huh!

Another very good looking and super fit chappy also wants to meet but in his profile he says ‘athletic body a must’. Now I’m not fat but certainly I’m comfy to cosy up to on a sofa in front of the telly. I suspect I would spend the whole date wondering if I fit into his personal BMI index rating system so I might give it a skip.

Meanwhile the guy with the cows is going to be in town in a week or two and wants to go for coffee. I might go just in order to be able to be assured of a proper cafe au lait in this town.

I had another date last night, number four since I’ve arrived. By now the whole getting ready thing is down to 20 minutes, shower, subtle make up, the blue date dress and of course the trusty contact lens. I also have a particular pair of cute, low-ish kitten heels I usually wear but the strap broke and they’re in the shop, so my red high heels had to do instead.

Ah those bloody heels. Usually they are relatively comfortable but side effects of August in Paris, now the temperature has started to soar, are potential pollution poisoning and heat swollen feet. So my pre-date thoughts were focused mostly on my poor toes, on how sore they were and how sore they might get. It was literally only when I was approaching the guy to introduce myself that I realised I had barely given a thought to the actual date its self!

Am I that jaded? I don’t think I’ve quite hit bitter yet, but certainly I’m not skipping off to my dates with the giddy expectation of meeting the love of my life. In fact for this date I was filled more with the expectation of blisters. I mean that’s not good, I haven’t read ‘The Secret’ but I’ve read a lot of books like it, and if you get back the thoughts you put out, well maybe I’ve been getting exactly the nothing I deserve.

However, as Oprah says, sometimes the universe has a better plan for you then you have for yourself and the date was actually really really lovely. For a scary moment I thought he was going to suggest a romantic stroll along the Seine but thanks be to Jesus, we opted instead for a glass of wine that lovely arcade by Odeon. What’s more he was far cuter then his already cute profile picture and tall! Even with me in my increasingly pinching heels! So contrary to low/no expectations, the venue was great, conversation flowed and a laugh was had, all in all a far better date then I hadn’t bothered to imagine. In fact it was all going swimmingly…

Until I fell!

My bloody high heels, obviously objecting to being briefly ignored, slipped on the lethal cobbles stones and I fell flat on my face. Even as I was falling (and it seemed to happen in slow motion) I remember thinking “rightio, well that’s the sophisticated elegant illusion put paid to”.

However,in order to salvage the best of a bad situation, I managed to milk it for some ‘damsel in need of rescuing’ potential and, having fallen a number of times in Paris I must say it was very nice that for once I had someone to pick me up.

So today he has emailed to both inquire after my knee and to ask to meet again. However I have heard that before (memories of disappearing Canadian Divorcees) so I’m a tad wary of getting my expectations up. But then if all I am putting out there are low expectations is that all I am going to get back? Because those potential blisters I was thinking about? By god I got them.

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