Brief Encounters

"Oh, Elec, dear, I am so frightfulleh fed ahp of this Interweb dating malarkeh..."

 

via here

No, not that sort.

The sort that begin at 5.30pm and end but two hours later.

I became quite skilled at those over the summer. Dating lite, one might call it.

I prefer to call it a portent. But I always have been a little melodramatic.

After the shocktail of a date that was SSM, I was of the opinion that...

So I kept an open mind.

And I went on a duck-feeding date (that's not a euphemism) followed by Malaysian dinner-in-an-underground-yes-secret-but-only-to-the-non-Malaysian-population restaurant in Bayswater with an Australian-Malaysian; and by definition the date was a vast improvement on the last if only because this Aussie was friendly, easy-going and unpretentious -- genuinely nice.

...Needless to say he and I had nothing in common, so we did actually run out of conversation matter round about half seven. But that was OK. I think I'd decided by this point that I'd had my fill of internet dating -- plus it was bankrupting me, financially and emotionally.

So... since September it's been somewhat quiet on the Dating Front.

via here

But that's fine by me. Either a person is suited to the Whacky Whirlwind of Internet Dating...

...or they're not.

And I'm, er, not.

Sorry about that.

I just don't enjoy it.

Shocker.

...Of course, if I come by a date by less artificial, more personal means, I'm not ruling it out. Bring it ON. I'm open to that.

What I'm less open to is the judgment, the expectation and the subsequent disappointment leading to the inevitable Puncturing of the Morale time after time.

I'm significantly less open to having everyone tell me that their sister's housemate's cousin's neighbour found their life partner on the internet dating treadmill*. My closest friends (with the notable exception of J) met their partners because their partners appeared naturally in their lives.

But. BUT! In spite of the last few colourful months, I have absolute faith that if a person is meant to be in my life, he'll fit into it as it is and as I am (give or take a small amount of effort to Get Out More, admittedly).

*Speaking of treadmills... I've joined the gym, to train for a charity walk next year. And You Never Know how that might pan out...

Screenshot from Sex and the City, Series 4, Ep2, The Real Me

As a footnote, I should assure you, my two lovely readers, that although I have officially Leapt Off the Internet Dating Merry-Go-Round, this 'ere blog, in the manner of a certain theme tune about a certain sunken ship, will... go on for as long as it takes me to Find My Lobster.

Sorry about that. :-)

Oh and as another footnote (how many footnotes can you have before it becomes a legnote?) you may remember Back in the Early Days of Dater Overload I took issue with this advert:

There's been a new MisMatch advert out of late, and it's safe to say that the bile/vitriol currently rising in my throat is a direct result of having seen this MisLeading Schmaltz-fest:

in which a young man serenades a young woman (of 26, 28 -- because anyone over 30 is just not worth the effort, let's face it...) across the train tracks, only to have her disappear (yeeaaaah, you go, sista, don't fall for it) and then rock up at his side (Oh.).


My issues with both of these adverts are two manyfold:

1. These are both the sorts of people who in reality, will never, ever find themselves needing to internet-date.
2. Both of these scenarios imply that the couples are meeting spontaneously and not via the internet dating site they're actually promoting.
3. The virtues upon which Boy in the Second Ad is serenading Girl are as follows:

Best smile he's seen for a while
Great skin
Hair colour (he's fond of her because she's a blonde albeit not a natural one -- that's refreshing...)
Beautiful beguiling eyes...

So, her appearance, then. Reassuring.

Let's hope that if they get together it soon transpires she's a slob who leaves her toenail clippings on the side of the bath, never takes out the recycling, won't let him watch the Grand Prix because there's a Kardashian marathon on and only buys top-of-the-range clothes thus leaving them in £20,000 of debt by their thirtieth birthdays. That'll learn him.


4. The train that goes past at the beginning of that ad is a Southern Failways train going through a Southern-line station, shortly before an announcement is made for a Southern service, so how on earth is she just "off" to Hull? Leeds? Wigan, home of pies (yes, because this girl clearly feasts on pies on a regular basis...) on a Southern service?! (Well, via London Victoria then Euston but it's at least a four-hour journey, dude. You're never seeing her again.)

Congratulations, MisMatch, you just shot yourself in the foot(note). Again.

And Why Not?

So. Hi.

If you found this blog there's a very good chance I begged asked you to follow it. And if you're following it there's a good chance you know me and have already been subjected to one of my anecdotes. Sorry – you get them all over again here. Hence why I've monikered this little hub of self-indulgence Dater Overload. Clever, huh? Punny.

So, why the blog? What's with all the blogging already? 

It occurred to me last Wednesday, as I sat on a train home at about 9pm at night, after a "date" that had kicked off at 7.40pm(ish), and had clearly bypassed success in favour of AWKWARD (I'll explain why in a later post; when it comes to dating, awkward is my default setting.) ...that cometh the hour, cometh the blogging opportunity.


In the last few months since taking a new approach to dating – that is, actually dating rather than complaining about my other default setting: perpetually single – I've accumulated a few anecdotes that I felt needed to be shared, and through the medium of blogging. 

And since I haven't kept a diary for longer than five months since about 1998, well, writing to an invisible audience should spur me on, right?


I have to admit, I'm not a serial dater. I'm a simu-dater*, yes, though I like to term my approach prospecting; at best, keeping my options open, or as my friends would so prosaically put it, KISSING A LOT OF FROGS.

via here

...I should state for the record that it helps none that I look nothing like this girl.

Nor am I "kooky" like this girl (just quirky, and that's not the same as kooky, OK?):

…Oh wait. Maybe that's where I'm going wrong. Instead of rocking up to dates in this (minus fairy lights):

I should channel this little fashionista:

via here

Though I'm not sure attire is necessarily the issue.


I digress.


So, I have been Dating (cap. D) on and off since about November, December 2010, with varied results, though the fact I'm still single is testament to (deep breath) how flawed the whole set-up is, how certain sites feed into your insecurities by encouraging, nay, forcing you to create this whole, attractive persona that will drop away the moment you make human contact with that individual who happened to Nudge you... or the affinity tests don't ask the right questions, or the sites play host to people who, let's be honest here, would be better placed defending their honour to 55p women's magazines that shall remain nameless. (And nothing at all to do with my extreme pickiness and exacting standards.)


...Yeah, I think we've hit on the real issue here. I suffer from DATING-RELATED CYNICISM. 

But the moment that I get over the hurdle of believing that I won't meet my lobster through a dating site, that may well be when dating really starts to work for me. 

But only I can come to that conclusion. You can tell me until you're blue in the face that your sister's housemate's cousin's neighbour met her soulmate online but I'll just counter that I'm not your sister's housemate's cousin's neighbour, it hasn't worked for me thus far – and I need to be proven wrong, clearly.


So as I recount my anecdates** I'll also be trying to change my mindset and channel some positive energy into my endeavours.

Wish me luck.


(Please?)

* "Simu-date" -- see Sex and the City, Series 6, Ep1, To Market, To Market when Carrie offsets the pressure of dating Berger for the first time by meeting a different date.

Screengrab from DVD

** Anecdates = anecdotes + dates... See? ...That was my blog name of choice, except someone got there first, blogged for three months then abandoned it. Who would do that? (Um... See my earlier statement on keeping a diary... :-) )

PS Not sure why but my line breaks vary from standard to colossal. One day I'll understand HTML …