With Valentine’s Day hearts in shades of red and pink exploding all around me and my unkissd New Year’s Eve lips still making me feel more than a little depressed, I think it is the perfect time to try and figure out why I’m still single.
It’s not for want of trying, or dating for that matter. There was that one lovely guy who ended up talking more to the animated Guinness advertisement in Café en Seine than to me, or the man who either had a seriously small bladder or simply preferred the company of the urinal over mine. I even had a very Samantha “Sex in the City” moment when the charming chap who I was chatting to, stood up and only reached my navel. Not a pretty moment for me I admit, as I discovered that ‘yes’ I do seem to think ‘size matters’, in more ways than just one.
I gave Speed Dating a try. While it is great fun if you like meeting people and aren’t afraid to put yourself out there, I don’t think it is where I’ll find my soul mate. I went out with a few of my speed date matches, got wined, dined, and met for coffee, but that was it. One of the matches however (and he will know who he is) will go down as my worst date ever.
Following the advice of the Speed Dating organizers all the guys that didn’t seem like serial killers, made me laugh or were just quite normal got a ‘tick’ in the ‘open for dating’ section on my speed dating chart. And that is how I ended up on a date with The Dentist. We agreed to meet in Ron Blacks (his choice, not mine) but when I arrived he already was anything but sober. Putting it down to nerves I didn’t turn on my red patent leather heal like I wanted to, but ordered a cocktail and let the evening take its course.
Now, I am all for being transparent with your past but there really is no need to bring up your ex within the first minute of meeting. And while I love to chat about interior decoration from time to time, I have no real interest in hearing anything about how your ex picked out the drapes, bed and cushions to match. As the evening progressed I learnt more and more about the Ex as The Dentist got more and more drunk, getting handsy along the way. Being a lady (well I try) I was just about to excuse myself politely when my date disappeared to the gents. I was still contemplating to just leg it when I received a text. A long winded explanation of how the Ex had arrived in Ron Blacks and that was why he had left so quickly and please would I meet him in the back alley as he thought I was really sexy. Within a few minutes I was in a Taxi heading home, happy that he at least did pay for the many, many cocktails I had that night.
After the Speed Dating fiasco I decided to try some internet dating sites, thinking at least that way I would be able to weed out a few of the weird and wacky men. I created a few profiles on different websites, always honest, yet upbeat and maybe a little exaggerated… after all I did want to stand a chance with all those size 6, blond bombshells, who lead amazing lifestyles and never seem to age. As a curvaceous babe, with very curly hair I seemed to be very low on the dating chain, no matter how witty, charming, clever or creative I am. But my experience was varied, a few emails here and there, a few coffee dates but overall the experience was more tiring than anything else. I had hoped that by joining dating sites I’d end up having sleepless nights, I just didn’t think it would mean me siting up late in my pjs, emailing men and keeping my profile light and flirty and most of all active. I even checked out itsjustlunch.com, but sadly my desire to meet a good guy is larger than my purse. In this recession you need to be a two-income household to be able to afford the grand and a half dating fee, which seems a bit beside the point.
Of course there are thousands of self-help books filled with tricks and tips about how to lure that elusive dateable single man into my hands, heart and hopefully bed. But after having read a few all I’ve really succeeded in doing was filling someone else’s bank account, while my bed still stays cold and empty.
So, as he still seems not to be into me and I obviously can’t speak Martian maybe somebody out there has a tip or two for me, or is even just looking for a date. Otherwise I think I’ll have to maybe rob a bank and give itsjustlunch a second look or buy a cat.
(Suburbia Magazine Feb/Mar 2012)