Monthly Archives: January 2012

Online dating – lessons learned so far


Well, I’ve finally accepted another date for next week after firing a little under a hundred emails at the guty, each one cleverly designed to catch him out in lies and inconsistencies that might let me know whether he’s married cheating scum.  I finally decided I was happy that he probably wasn’t married cheating scum, but a perfectly normal man who might be worried about the state of my mind after questions that stopped just short of “can you please send me a high-res full colour photograph of your left hand on today’s paper” (you know, to check for tan lines).

But that’s next week and I feel obliged to update the blog anyway, so I thought I’d put together a little list of things I’ve learned in online dating world so far.

  1. Don’t trust anyone who has password-protected photos.  Sure he might have a legitimate reason (the types of workmates that would email a link to the entire supply list, or being part of the witness protection program or something) but I bet he’s married or at least hiding something.  Not worth it.
  2. I’m probably not going to get along with anyone who uses 4u in their username.  It just makes me think they’ve got a bunch of ‘adult’ site logins like ‘horny4u’ or ‘bigdick4u’ and have kept the pattern going on Big Dating Site with ‘niceguy4u’.
  3. Anyone wearing a baseball cap in all his photos is bald.  We girls are totally onto this trick, but believe it or not, most of us really don’t care about a lack of hair unless you actually hide a tragic comb-over underneath that cap.  Then we might care a little bit.
  4. The bloke who likes to “spoil his lady” probably has “old fashioned values” and wants “a woman who’s not afraid to be a woman.”  In other words, he’d like it to be the 1950s and wants me to fetch him a sammich and beer and then leave him alone til it’s time to clean up.
  5. Anyone who wants a “partner in crime” is severely lacking in imagination.  And the discretion needed to pull off a really cool crime.
  6. There are an awful lot of ‘senior managers’ with zero command of grammar, spelling or punctuation.  And who find it appropriate to use text speak in their profiles.
  7. There is a super secret dating site math code you need to crack.  The one for reading the boys profiles is:
  • Add ten kilos to his weight
  • Subtract 3 inches from his height
  • Multiply his age by 1.5
  • Divide his income by 2

8.  I’m not even going to mention the whole spacial perception of 9 inches thing…

Now that’s out of my system, I totally plan to have a nice rest of the weekend and try my best not to view any incoming kisses with suspicion


Trauma at the spray tanning clinic


Anyway, in a promise to keep updating and because I’m going all softly softly on the whole accepting dates thing, I’ll just slip in an out-of-sequence post about my spray tan experience.

This was before Mr F, so I’m totally feeling pretty hot and desirable despite the disasters because I have a calendar full of dates for the week.  I may have even wagged my finger at some people and called them ‘girlfriend’, but if I did, I would have given that up real quick in response to their reactions.  Yeah, apparently I don’t wear ‘cocky’ too well.  Obviously some deity or other decided I was getting a bit too cocky and sent Mr F to punish me.

Some sort of mega cosmic karma or something also saw one of those group buying deals pop into my inbox to get a night of speed dating for just $29 (normally $89.95).  I went and had a look at the website and it seems to be constantly running events for all different age groups, so I’m looking forward to picking one and testing it out (and reporting back, of course).

Speaking of those group buying deals, I got one for three spray tans for $24 a little while back and decided to use one. Because everyone knows it’s a proven scientific fact that brown fat looks better than white fat.

You know what you probably shouldn’t do in life?  You probably shouldn’t get a bargain basement spray tan.  That’s what you probably shouldn’t do.

So I arrive at this place and despite its very glamorous name, it is a dingy little shopfront that’s not even open yet, so I have to sit outside in my carefully chosen super-loose caftan thingie hoping it doesn’t blow open to reveal I’m not wearing any knickers.

Finally this dodgy looking guy, fag hanging out of his mouth, opens up the place about an hour and a half after the opening times displayed on the door.  He grunts at me over a threateningly hanging ash and beckons me inside.

Muttering something about “should’ve never signed up to this scam” when he sees my coupon, he orders me into a booth, tells me to strip and put on the paper g-string and wait for him.

Um… wait for him?  “Are you going to spray me?” I ask.

“Do you see anyone else here?” he says.  “You can wait for a female tanner, but there’s no opening for a few days and you’ll lose one of your tans.  Read the small print.  24 hours cancellation policy applies.”

For the sake of $8, I probably should have pulled a bit of dignity out of my caftan and hightailed it out of there, but I couldn’t stand the idea of looking like an albino whale for a day longer and decided to go through with it.

Traumatic is the only way to describe the next fifteen minutes or so as I stood there in my badly fitting g-string while a guy with a gun demanded I lift this fold and that fold and stand in all sorts of vaguely pornographic poses so that he could ensure each bit of flesh got its brown on.  At least he got rid of the fag while he did it.

When it was finally finished and I was left alone with the funny blowdryer tube (“don’t forget to lift up and dry under all the folds or it’ll be streaky” he warns me), I must have stayed in there half an hour because I was too embarrassed to face him again.

The end result was that I looked a little less whale-like and the colour was thankfully natural enough (and streak-free, because I dried the HELL out of all my folds) and it was almost worth the trauma.  I even used the other two coupons later on, but I made SURE a female tanner was available!

I found LOVE! Oh… hang on a minute


Sorry all for not updating for so long, but I do have an excuse.

There were a couple of dates so nondescript that I’ve pretty much forgotten them and so won’t be blogging them.  So lets skip dates 7 and 8.

So, Date No 9.. let’s call him Fucknarsewipeguttertrawlingpigman (I knew there was a reason I didn’t use an “F” name on Date No.6) was fantastic.  He looked like his profile pics (which I needed a password to see), he was someone I found attractive, but not everyone would, he was funny, attentive, disarmingly not perfect.  So I figured he was perfect.

Therefore, I wrote him off as Not Possibly Interested In Me.  By that I mean I went home desperately trying not to hope he would call, assuming he wouldn’t and urgently trying not to think about him whilst all the time sneakily thinking about him when I thought I wouldn’t notice.

An agonising three days later he rang and suggested we go out to dinner.  He picked a restaurant about a zillion miles away from where I live.  It was a cute little place, but I wouldn’t have picked it as worth driving 40 minutes for.  The date was though and four hours later, toey as hell, I heard Kate’s copy of The Rules exploding as I agreed to a private nightcap.  I was a wee bit surprised when he suggested my place, being so far away, but he said his place was no closer so why he picked that restaurant was a mystery.

Anyway, I’m not going to give you any gory details, but suffice to say I let his snake run amok in my ladygarden that night and then just about every night for the next couple of weeks.  Always at my place.  And a couple of times he had to cancel suddenly.  But the laughs we had when we were together were just fabulous.

See all those flashing neon warning signs up above?  You’d have to be some sort of moron to miss them right?  Meet Patty the Plain Plump Moron.

There’s a good reason I’ve been ignoring the blog for the last six weeks or so.  I thought I’d found someone and desperately didn’t want him finding my musings.  I even considered deleting the whole thing, but then thought I was being a bit up myself because I haven’t exactly got a cult following.

But, of course, in case you’re as stupid as I am at regonising the warning signs, Date 9 turned out to be Married Guy.  He actually had the nerve to tell me we had to stop seeing each other because his wife was coming back from her holiday, like it should have been something I should just accept and it was the most normal thing in the world.  Yes, I’d asked if he’d ever been married before (answer: yes, a long time ago).

Naturally I went all psycho bitch and reported his profile, which has now been taken down.

So all this happened a few weeks ago and I’ve been wallowing in my misery, regaining the pounds I’d been going to blog about losing and irrationally hating all men.  But now I’ve decided I’m ready to get back on the dating horse.  I have a friend who’s willing to go speed dating with me and I’m going to update and reactivate my dating site profiles.

I’m sure I’ll recognise those signs if they ever pop up again, right?

Anyway, thanks all for the messages while I’ve been away and I promise to diligently keep updating from now.



A couple of apologies


Apology 1:  I’m sorry I haven’t updated the blog in so long.  I do have an excuse and will try and write up a new post tonight.  Thank you so much for all the encouraging posts asking where I’ve been.

Apology 2: Yesterday I got a huge spike of hits from a site called Australian Frequent Flyer.  Apparently someone thought they recognised Date No.2.  I really don’t mean to hurt anyone and I change a few essential characteristics of my dates, so if anyone thinks they recognise someone from a description I’ve given, they’re very likely to be wrong.