Reason 13 – they get in first

My friend had convinced me to get into that good old medium of modern day meeting – a dating website. It took her about a year to convince me it was worth trying and after yet another night out on the turps with nothing to show for it but a raging hangover, I decided I would give it a go. I got my profile organised and wrote (what I thought was) some humourous prose around my interests, hopes, aspirations and favourite pastimes (kind of along the lines of, “what’s your favourite colour? blue”, etc, etc).

I let the messages come in and to be honest, the standard of incomings wasn’t so high. Not that I am particularly fussy, but the trannies, the men with an inkling for bondage, S&M, and auto-erotic stimulation, and the men who would scare small children got a wee bit tiresome. Nonetheless, I persisted.

And finally, like a ray of sunshine through the stormy clouds, Mr 13 appeared. He was gorgeous. And witty. And my age. And he had a job. And he seemed so.. so normal. Mr 13 and I emailed back and forth a few times. I would actually look forward to getting home to check my emails (dating sites not being allowed at my conservative financial company!) to find something from him.

Finally it came time to meet and we arranged to catch up over lunch one day. I was so excited. When 13 walked towards me, I saw that he carried a little more weight than his photos. But that was ok. He was still a very nice looking man. We greeted a little awkwardly and he sat down. And the tooth-pulling, paint-drying began. The hour dragged as if it were ten hours and the conversation was more stunted than a smoking mother’s foetus. I couldn’t wait to get away. Luckily, being a working day, I had the excuse of a VERY important meeting I needed to rush back for.

I made my polite goodbyes, thanked Mr 13 for taking the time to meet me, and left. The door of the cafe had not even closed behind me when my phone told me I had a SMS. I took it out and read: ” I don’t want to pursue anything further. Don’t call me again.”

What? WHAT?!?!?!? How dare he?! He of THE most boring personality I have EVER had the misfortune to come across doesn’t want to see fabulous, amazing ME? Grrrr!!