let the games begin
Once the all-important profile had been set up, I quickly realised just how addictive this whole dating game is. However shallow/sad/vain it is to admit, getting a match is actually a massive confidence boost. Five years with the same person — it is nice to know you are still capable of holding appeal to others out there. Also does not take long to realise just how picky you can be on someone’s appearance when all you have to judge on are a few dodgy pictures…”HA look at those eyebrows one is defos thicker than the other — no chance.” “God, picture of his car?! Total douche, goodbye”
So, after endless entertaining hours on the couch/on the train/in bed of swiping through various profiles, the first guy I actually got talking to was called Peter. A few years older than me, good looking in a stubbly, beardy sort of way & most importantly, funny with good chat. Literally nothing worse than a guy whose idea of scintillating conversation is “hey babe. wuu2?” Kill me. He regaled me with stories of his catfish experiences, then friend requested me on facebook to ensure I wasn’t actually a catfish myself. Sound logic in my view! So far, so normal. Nothing too nerve-wracking & I quite liked having someone to chat to every day again. (Needy or what, right?) We arranged a date for a weeks’ time & agreed we would go for a few drinks to help calm the nerves etc. Admittedly the thought of an ACTUAL REAL LIFE DATE with AN ACTUAL REAL LIFE STRANGER scared the shit out of me, but I motivated myself with the thought that if I didn’t at least attempt it, how would I ever find love again? I’d be alone for the rest of my life; I’d be an old spinster with 10 dogs while everyone else lived happily ever after & then when I died the dogs would feast on my insides and everyone would agree what a tragic life I’d led, etc etc.
That weekend I was at my friends’ house for an impromptu gathering & decided to get their verdict on my new husband-to-be. I showed them all his facebook page & they agreed he was a babe and were suitably excited for me & our future babies. Unfortunately, that was about as far as “Peter & Lauren” got. The guy fuckin vanished on me! (Not that I still hold a grudge or that, y’know) Well, I say vanished, but he still liked the pictures or status updates I would put up…he just never messaged me again. Pretty weird, eh?! I’m the most stubborn person in the world so there was no way in hell I was about to double message the chump,but seriously, what the fuck?! Did he just see my old chubby photos & decide i was, in fact, utterly hideous in real life compared to my Tinder photos? Did he get bored of my awkward, nervous, chat? Who knows. So. Found myself back at square one with my confidence a little knocked…going well so far.
The next guy to ask me out was again called Peter. Alarm bells should probably have started ringing at this point, but I was optimistic (read: desparate) at this point and JUST WANTED A DATE. This guy was pretty laid back, slightly scruffy in a cool way with a touch of Prince Harry about him — why not give it a go?! We started texting almost daily again & arranged to meet the following Monday evening for after-work drinks. Again, the thought of said date made me want to throw up a bit, but I was not about to back out now! That is, until I texted him on Sunday afternoon to confirm the time and place of our date and his reply was “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to make it anymore — things have gotten serious with someone else” Ummm, exsqueeeeze me? In the space of ONE DAY?! Fuck. Ditched once again. Optimism slightly waning now.