Charles White: “World Class Dating Expert”
A Title I Must Gracefully Decline
The signs were always there.
I find myself in a strange predicament, I find myself an accidental yet serious contender for the title of World Class Dating Expert. Of course, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by this development. I am, after all, the same man who thought it would be appropriate to refer to his little helper as “Old Grand-Pappy Wrinkle-Peen” during a heated sexting episode recently, so I guess the signs were always there.
At this stage, you could be forgiven for assuming that this was some meaningless title that I, in a fit of narcissism, had bestowed upon myself. Not so my green-eyed little pomme de terre, not so, this title comes courtesy of an official body! Not only that but it also comes with a lucrative cash prize in the form of an ongoing salary. The catch (there’s always a catch) is that to accept this most prestigious accolade,
I must use my newfound cupid-ian powers for evil.
I am to become a love wraith, a sexy phantom… a hedonistic phantasmagoria if you will. Sent from the quiver of Eros himself to impersonate lonely hearted “elites” and secure them a soul mate. In short, I have been offered a job that would require me to take control of other peoples’ dating apps and message potential matches on their behalf…pretending to be them… I know….
Now, wait, just wait! Before you start burning effigies of me complete with chiselled jaws and eight-packs, let me make myself absolutely clear, I’m not going to do it… I don’t think…okay, yeah, no definitely not.
I’m not a bad person, I swear.
I just hate my day job and got a little lazy that’s all! True, I’ve been known to indulge in the odd bit of schadenfreude by swapping my housemate’s apple juice for Jack Daniels, but on this occasion, I simply got complacent and didn’t fully research the company I was applying to. I thought I was applying to be a content writer for some harmless dating site, maybe reviewing the odd cocktail bar or whack-a-mole joint, but this is beyond the pale!
It was shortly after I had accepted an invitation to begin Round 2, the assessment phase, of my application that I became aware of my catastrophic blunder. No sooner had this cringe-y epiphany hit me than I launched into an aggressive campaign of self-sabotage. Rather than simply contact the recruiter with an awkward “Upon reflection I’ve decided this isn’t the role for me” letter — I resolved to distance myself from any form of responsibility by portraying myself as slightly less fun than dating your own father might be.
When asked to create a hypothetical dating profile for a fictitious client I put their hobbies down as “Doing Crime and Throwing My Recycling into the Landfill.” Later on, when I was asked to reply to a message asking who the clients dream dinner guests would be, I didn’t even give David Attenborough an honourable mention.
So you can imagine my chagrin when I opened an email earlier this week that read “We enjoyed your off-beat, sarcastic humour and would love to arrange a call to discuss the next steps.”… Is this what I have been missing all these years? Will actively trying to be as bad a person as I can somehow make me appear more attractive? Did they think I was being cute? I was trying to be a monster goddammit!!!
And so, dear reader, here I sit. In a predicament entirely of my own making. Whilst the term “World Class Dating Expert” looks glamorous at first glance, the idea of ghostwriting for someone’s dating profile seems a bit…iffy to me.
If any singletons reading this have been struck down with a case of the heebie-jeebies, feel free to use this simple method to verify your online matches are who they say they are and not love ghouls in disguise: Ask them where they see themselves in five years. If they reply with something like “I’d like to own my own business” you’re probably fine. If, however they reply with something like“I cannot answer your question, for I exist in a plane separate from your mortal realm and thus the passage of time holds no meaning for me.” — it’s still inconclusive, so maybe just ask them “are you a ghost-writer” If they say “yes”, then I’m sorry honey, but you’ve been flirting with a member of the literary nether-realm.
As for me, I think I can put off the moment I have to send that awkward “thanks but no thanks” email a little longer by thinking of one more sexy ghostwriter pun… dead… sexpert?…pathetic.
