Flaws and All

When I started this blog I should have included in my sidebar a proviso that, for comedy value, I have deliberately masked about 95% of my flaws in order to portray my Poor Unsuspecting Dates in the most unfortunate light possible.

That proviso aside, I'm not taking all the blame for unsuccessful dates upon myself although I can accept some, being peculiar and unused to the Dating Malarkey as I am was. Because my word I tried my hardest to spark with Mr Shorts in Winter aka ODNU. And as for KIB no human being is at their best after a twelve-hour day and a blatant display of follicle-fetishism.

But yes, it's safe to say that I'm no Meg Ryan-in-any-rom-com-she's-ever-been in. I'm not cute and sparky, I'm just quirky. And flawed. And I accept that.

Yes, I acknowledge and bewail my manifold quirks and weirdnesses.

Here be they:

• I'm picky.
• I can be judgmental.
• I'm pedantic about spelling, grammar, punctuation and punctuality. And the misuse of the word "myriad".
• I have fluctuating levels of tolerance especially of people who have no handle on the above.
• I cringe at the use of the word "foods" (plural) as in "I like all sorts of foods" – arrrgh. I don't even care if it's grammatically correct versus "food" plural, and that's saying something.
• I'm not fond of "movies" for "films" either. We're British. It's a film.
• I'm grumpy as feck when I'm tired or hungry. Or tired and hungry.
• I'm stubborn as. 

via here

• I have my whiny moments.
• I have my drama-queen moments.
• I can be insecure about my mediocre intelligence to the point whereby I can't be patronised … but I also can't Miss Out and need to be Kept in the Loop.
• I obsess about odd things, about which most sane folk wouldn't have any interest. Aussie serials. Actors in Aussie serials. Bad 80s dance films. 80s rock and 80s rockers. Camels.

Yes, camels. via here

• I have my moments of immaturity.
• I also have my moments of old-lady-dom.
• I play The Sims on Facebook or chain-Sudoku in my spare time.
• And I'm not a great hugger. In fact I'm a pretty appalling hugger. I suspect shoulders have been bruised in the process of my attempts.

BUT!

BUT!

I'm also arty, daft, quirky, medium-maintenance, and capable of love.

And if someone transpires to be my Lobster, two things will happen:

1. They'll love me for all those flaws above
and
2. I'll love them, flaws and all.

I've been told that's how it works.

Breathe and Reboot

You know when you're at the start of a Dating Site Downer when...

• You list a non-smoker in your criteria and the site recommends you... a smoker
• You list men between 31 and 40 as your criteria and a 45-year-old gets in touch
• You're a prim little missy in need of an emotional connection, so when a matching service claims that "hornydevil82 seems really right for you" you begin to mistrust their judgment. BIG TIME

Needless to say I gave the whole dating malarkey a miss for a few months.
But in May, I opened the Metro to find an article about a new "alternative" dating site which we'll call "QuirkersAnonymous", for, erm, anonymity's sake, where folk meet up and do something they'd both like to do, such as feed pigs on a farm, go ice-skating, drink cocktails, visit a gallery, dress up as clowns and try juggling. That sort o' thing. I was intrigued. I tore out said article and stashed it in a pile of articles labelled, "hmm, may do something about this if the mood strikes me". And sat on it. But didn't stop thinking about it.

Then, in June, I spent the weekend with a friend who made me rethink my whole perspective on dating. This friend, whom I'll call J, is something of a dating aficionado now, and has very recently got herself engaged to a man she met online. Evidence if ever there was any that there is that Hope to be Had.

J had some brilliant stories to share about her experiences in dating, and something a few things she said to me struck a chord and made me think, I'm going about this all wrong.

At the time I think there may have been an aura of desperation and resentment about me, and I was taking entirely the wrong attitude. I wasn't enjoying the Game at all, I was doing it because I felt it was my Last Resort and if I didn't try it, well... this was my future:

via here

But J, while confirming the frog-kissing adage, also reminded me that dating could be fun, I could throw myself Out There, meet some new people, and even if no Big Romance came of it then maybe I'd make some new friends.

A fog lifted for me at that point, I think, and I decided that I could have some fun with the whole Dating Game if I didn't place too much pressure on it.

So I signed up to the new site I'd seen advertised in the Metro. And I used a Very Serious Picture of myself as my profile shot, thus breaking my own rule no. 5 of Dislikes by using a seemingly Overthought Profile Shot. To which not one blighter responded unsurprisingly.

Only when I replaced said Serious Shot with a more Quirky, more Natural Shot (taken by J) did my fortune start to change, especially when I hinted that I might like to see this Toulouse-Lautrec exhibit.

Shortly thereafter I got an email on the site from an Irish Chap, which went along these lines:

Hello QUIRKY_BRUNETTE. I hope your enjoying the weekend.

So. Ive checked out the exhibition youd like to see and it looks good.

Fancy some company attending the event sometime?

Any plans for this weekend?

Now, as you can imagine if you know me at all (!), it was a War of Wills to overlook the grammar and punctuation errors in this message.

But I reasoned that a) this guy (we'll call him Keen Irish Bean, or KIB for now) was the first to contact me on the website and b) he had three photos on his profile so seemed genuine and quite cute to boot and c) actually sounded like a fun person to meet.

After I'd replied to his email, we exchanged details and after discovering to our annoyance that the Courtauld Gallery never seemed to be open after 5pm, decided to visit the Titanic exhibition at the O2 instead as our first date. His suggestion.

And I was -- wait for it -- actually quite excited.

I think I changed my dating fortunes by changing my dating attire for this occasion -- I tipped up in the blue, daisy-print dress I'd been wearing in my profile photo (in case KIB couldn't distinguish me in a crowd otherwise...), waited outside the tube station at North Greenwich and true to his assertion in his profile that he valued punctuality (as do I) he turned up well on time, armed with tickets to the event. Big tick. He also turned up in a colour I'm particularly fond of. See my reference to (over)attentiveness to detail in my last post under no. 9.

We were early, so we grabbed a coffee and had a conflab over caffeine. He was a caretaker by day, an arts volunteer by, er, weekend day and was about to learn BSL. All sounded pretty good (I've always wanted to learn more BSL and, well, I like the arts). He was passionate about motor racing and vintage cars and he mentioned the Goodwood Revival and other retro events like the Prohibition Parties, which in the flush of Good First Date Euphoria did sound like good fun at the time (I'm quite into my 1920s style these days). It was one of those conversations that actually worked -- we seemed to click.

I got hopeful.

The exhibition itself was astounding and would have been enjoyable in its own right if I hadn't been there on a date. We even had our photo taken in front of a green screen as we went in, and received copies at the end of us as if in front of the wreck of the Titanic. It was sort of cute if not a little premature...

As it happened, KIB was very knowledgeable about the Titanic and its sister ship, both of which were built in Belfast, and his knowledge added a dimension to the experience, which was, yay, a good thing. (Though, me being me, and not being quite able to disassociate any real-life experience from a film experience, I couldn't quite shake this song from my head the whole way round...)

Afterwards we had a quick drink and a bowl of chips at the venue. Now, this was a square bowl, full to the brim of chips, and quite frankly I had issues keeping the ruddy things in the bowl. Cue un-date-like behaviour of dropping chips into my lap, onto the leather seating, onto the floor. Cue apologies for my lack of decorum. If this was a Guardian Blind Date he'd be marking me down for table manners by now. But oddly he didn't seem put off.

We parted soon after the last chip was down (my gullet), and I headed home, with that odd sort of positivity that, chip-fail aside, actually this had gone pretty naffing well. I actually liked this person. And he seemed to like me.

For the next couple of weeks, we messaged. OK, he was a little over-keen with the messaging at times but at least he was messaging, and we even spoke on the phone -- yes, Spoke, on the Phone! -- at one point when he was extolling the virtues of obtaining tickets for Radio 4 comedy show recordings, and trying to send me links to the Prohibition Party website. Keen Bean he certainly was, and when he talked about meeting up again I was just as eager.

via here

And we made Plans for Date Two.

Yes, Dear Readers, I had me a First Second Date.

Things seemed to be on the Up.

Top 10 Internet Dating Dislikes

(Because Dating Cynicism isn't born of nowt, you know.)
  

(Best buckle up and crank up the road-trip tunes -- we're in for another long haul, my lovelies.)

1. The whole contrived set-up 

If you're anything like me, then you may have found, over the years, that the pool from which you can fish your Lobsters shrinks in inverse proportion to the aging process. So, unless you got lucky in junior school, and unless you work in an industry that doesn't operate on a ratio of 80:20 females:males, then, where on earth will you find this lobster to which you're rightfully entitled?!

• We've covered hobbies. Hobbies are out.
• We've glossed blithely over blind dates. Blind dates are out.
• We've complained about the poorly thought-through scheduling of decent adult education classes...
• And our grandmothers' means of meeting Eligible Bachelors, such as civilised Tea Dances, went out with, well, grandma (unless you're into that whole undercover retro scene…)

via here

So. What options do you have left?

You could denounce Coupledom entirely, decide that actually One is More Fun and become a proper actual Spinster:

via here

 Or... you could...

Try Internet Dating!!!

Yes! 

Rather than strike up a dalliance with a Man who fits neatly into your life as it currently is, you must force a dalliance to happen by following these rigid, time-honoured steps:

• Sign up to a service/site promoting a free weekend/free trial period as my goodness you do not want to be the Girl Who Pays to Find Her Lobster. (Yes, there's still a stigma. Yes, I'm perpetuating it. What of it?!)
• Post up the one flattering photo of yourself taken since your early twenties where you don't have a volcanic eruption on your nose/jawline/expanse of forehead, Bad Hair, or a bit too much gum showing in that dazzling smile of yours.
• Spend the next week trying to pick the perfect 200 characters to encapsulate the Youness of You
• Click a few boxes that then categorise you as, and match you with, the sort of person who would either live in the city, or in the country or in a ski chalet, who likes jazz, classical or pop music. No other options. Sorry, was there no box for "beach house", or for "yes, all of that, plus, folk rock in the style of the sublime Thea Gilmore"? No? Harrumph.
• Wait and see if you tickle anyone's fancy, or anyone tickles yours.

I should mention, though, that it took me many years of ignoring and defying my friends' coercion before I grudgingly came to the conclusion by myself that my best option at the time was, yep, internet dating. I'm not sure it is my best option: not sure I'm the Internet Dating Kinda Girl at all but hey. I'm as out there as I'll ever be.

Doubter Overload.
Screenshots from Sex and the City, Series 5, Ep2, Unoriginal Sin

 2. The need to self-promote

Because we all want to show the best side/s of ourselves in favour of the more mundane reality. As a very nebulous example:

Compare: I'm quite laid-back with

I don't wash up, clean up, tidy up, or even get up unless Doctor Who is on.

But there is always the risk that while most 'normal' folk have to self-promote a little in order to garner the attentions of other folk, some may take it to extremes (and this is something of a composite...):

"I'm fun-loving, easy to get on with, work hard, have a great job, party hard, love socialising with my huge group of friends, love good wine and good conversation with intelligent people, love spending time at the gym, work out at least three times a week, love sport, love any kind of music, love trying new things esp food and new recipes, love to travel... would love to be on top of Kili right now... or back on a beach in Kho Samui..."

OK, now you're just trying to cover all bases. Seriously, if you're so staggeringly astounding and open to so much, why are you still single?!

And then there's…

3. The inability to self-promote

I like to think that it's a truth universally acknowledged that Dating Can Be Difficult. It's a game of emotional ten-pin bowling. You get knocked down. Then propped up again. Then knocked down. Once in a while you'll get a strike (and yes, this is a poor, poor analogy). But let's be honest, you're helping no one by including any or all of the following statements in your profile:

"back on here again -- better luck this time"

"been hurt in the past, looking for something real"

"don't know why any of this would be interesting to anyone"

Here's the dealio! We're all hoping for luck this time. We've all been hurt and are looking for something real. And if you don't know why any of this would be interesting to anyone, then no blighter else will either.
 
Time to impart some tough love as well as some more advice given to me by my very good and wise friend N--- (whose advice, I know, I may not always have followed but that doesn't mean I didn't keep it all in mind) which goes along the lines of, in order to get anyone to love you you need to love yourself first. It's not the easiest thing to do but it'd be a good start at least to project enough self-belief to snag the attentions of someone who will realise that yes, you are shy, you have been hurt, but hey, you're ready to Go Prospecting with the rest of us.

4.  The need to edit yourself into the kind of person People Will Want to Meet

Because in the Dating Game you will need to do a little self-editing. Don't reveal all in the first instance. Maintain your mystique. Then once you've met your date, then you can confess that you know all the words to Total Eclipse of the Heart. With power-ballad-fist-pumping actions to match. But in the first throes of Internet Dating, I'm afraid "Yourself" doesn't cut it in Dating Town, buddy.

5. Overthought profile shots

Say. No. More. via here

6. Ill-considered profile shots

You know.

• The one you rapidly took on a webcam the night you signed up to CatchInfinity.
• The one someone took on a phone last night that you can't remember having been taken but you're having THE BEST TIME EVER and you haven't yet spilled your drink or defiled your outfit.
• The one where your ex has been torn out prior to scanning, though her hand still rests oh-so-casually on your shoulder. Like Thing from The Addams Family.
• The one where your ex hasn't been torn out prior to scanning.*

*I recently spotted a shot on one site whereby a man's photo also featured a young lady. Was it a C-list celebrity he'd met? Was it his daughter? His ex? His current? No explanation was given. What assumption would you make?!

7. Great Expectations

Best to have none, then you'll never be disappointed. Hands up who's a big cynic? Me! Me!


But for all the cynicism, there is always a significant element of Hope involved in the Dating Game – hope that for all this cynicism you may be proven wrong. That if your sister's housemate's cousin's neighbour found her lobster online after x years of Prospecting, then so might you!


So you start overlooking crucial flaws in your Dating Prospects that would normally have been Dating Dealbreakers (poor spelling, misuse of 'you're/your', that sort of thing) in case you're being picky and ruling out your lobster on the basis of what you consider borderline illiteracy.


You meet every Date with that ever-so-hopeful, winsome, open little grin with the possibility lodged deep in the back of your mind that this may be The Fabled "One".


But the flipside of Great Expectations is of course Great Disappointment, and after a couple of rounds in the ring you are more likely to be Disappointed than Pleasantly Surprised. That's when the frog-snogging analogy really takes on new resonance. And you start all over again. Sigh.

8. Those who don't make any effort

ODNU. Nuff said.
 

9. Those who make too much effort

They Google you beforehand. They read every single word of your profile and try to glean the essence of your very soul from within those 200 excruciatingly-chosen characters. They notice that you said you like the colour green. And they turn up to your first date bedecked in green. (Admittedly it can be quite sweet on the first date as it means they're paying attention and they read your profile, at least.)

You meet up, you discuss general likes and dislikes. You liberally drop into the conversation that the retro shindigs he's into sound fun (because they do and also because you're being polite, not that you want to go to one immediately. We're Prospecting, remember?).

Next thing you know you're being sent links and suggestions on an all-too-regular basis for Tea Dances, ghost-hunts in old hotels, battle re-enactments... SLOW DOWN.

I should interject here that I'm painfully aware that I'm picky. You betcha. But hey. Isn't that the point of this whole malarkey anyway -- to pick someone to click with?

And finally...

10. The post-date post-mortem

 
...Sometimes you'll know straight away that the Date erred on the side of Disaster. The Date that spawned this whole blog was a little like that. Not a catastrophe but -- something of a Fail.

Other times, you just won't know until three days have passed and he still hasn't messaged or rung you. There is the temptation to go a little Lichtenstein over it:

M-Maybe // Roy Lichtenstein, via here

But eventually you may have to concede the obvious:

Screenshot from Sex and the City, Series 5, Ep4, Pick-a-Little, Talk-a-Little

Your rational mind thinks, OK, onto the next.
 Your realistic, irrational mind thinks, well, that was a big fat waste o' my time.

(But on the bright side that's one less frog to kiss, eh?)