A Year In The Life….

So what do you do when your marriage breaks up?  You just get on with things and keep moving forward of course.  So when my wife left me without warning in November 2015, it didn’t take me too long to realise that I just needed to get back on the erm, horse?

So I began by consulting some close friends who all universally suggested three sites.  Tinder, Plenty of Fish and Oasis.  The first of the big three to fall was Oasis.  Way too many single mums looking for cheap hook ups.  Not that I have anything wrong with single mums however, when you barely know someone and invite them over for a late night booty call once the kids are asleep you know it’s time to exit stage right.  One girl even wanted me to come over for a threesome whilst her two young kids slept under the same roof!  I’m never going to be one to shy away from an adventure but when you invite strange men into your house whom you barely know whilst your kids are sleeping only metres away? Yikes!

So what of this Tinder lark?  Well, it pretty much is what you think it is.  There ain’t no booty call that is ever too late in the night for the fine folk of Tinder!  I recall being woken at 3 am on a school night by the chime of yet another random request.  It was a tall and pretty erm, “friend” who had just finished her night shift as a nurse and was in need of Doctor Love!  Sadly, I wasn’t Doctor Love but Orderley Dave after being her 5th choice of the night and the first one willing to jump in an Uber for 15 minutes.  When duty calls right?

The funny thing about Tinder was the ever increasing volume of woman posing in photos wearing nothing but their lingerie or scantly open top dresses.  So many seemed happy to send out photos of all sorts.  You name it, I received it over the ensuing months.  It is truly remarkable to see where a woman can “store” a wine bottle!

More than anything, I love a girl who is passionate, head strong, motivated and determined.  I like girls with smarts and great conversational skills.  I guess I kind of prefer the book worm types if there is such a thing?

So, I guess this is where I tell you that I was kind of a good boy right?  Well, not exactly.  It seemed there were very few, if any people on these sites who were interested in much aside from getting their back doors banged in.  Pardon the pun readers.  I just had to drop that one in there.  You understand yes?  Early in the year, I took it on to litterally “fuck my way out” of the post marriage blues.  Hell, it could have been worse right?  I could have taken to the bottle right?  Instead, my iPhone (I’ll take my payment in cash thanks Apple) began to fill with booty call digits.  It was incredibly empty and emotionless for the best part.  Some of the sex was out of this world but it lacked any formal connection, passion or substance as you would expect.  This is where Plenty of Fish came along.

The good thing about POF is that you get to read a genuine profile and actually learn something about the opposite sex.  Tinder for example was all about the look.  Actually, at one point on Tinder, I changed my profile picture to some random guy with his shirt off in his bathroom seeking universal approval of his six pack.  Don’t get me wrong.  This lad must have worked hard to get that body but by hook or crook, it showed Tinder up for what it is.  Over 90% of the woman who I swiped in the following couple of weeks was already a match.  Helleulia I cried from the rooftops!  Girls were even telling me they would cancel their previously arranged dates just to meet Mr Six Pack.  The crazy part of it all was, had they bothered to look at my other real photos or read my profile they would have seen genuine images of me and read my disclaimer at the foot of my profile stating the main photo was not me.

The ultimate irony was that many girls on Tinder made it be known that they were over men looking for just sex or guys who wanted them for their bodies.  Yep, the same woman who ultimately swiped right on little old me based solely from looking at a shallow bathroom photo of a man with his shirt off.  I kid you not!

So where was I before I got distracted?  That’s right.  The world of fishing.  It was fabulous being able to read in depth profiles on woman who were keen to show off their worldly views.  It’s kind of like the place where the thinking man or woman goes.  Sure, you still get an array of half naked men and woman but they are most definitely not a patch on Tinder.  There was a cute girl I met in April, Suzie who was a switched on English lass who was sensible by day but doubled up to be one of the most downright filthy and kinky women I have ever encountered.  This petite, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth Londoner turned into a sex starved nimpho at night.  There seriously were very few boundaries that Suzie was not prepared to cross!  There were times when even I was left blushing.  Sadly, Suzie was only interested in sex so once the initial gleam wore thin, I moved on. It’s a shame because Suzie was into literature and live theatre plus, being British, loved all the same music as myself.

Going out on dates was tricky at times.  I often found myself listening to woman who had encountered the most horrible relationships with men who were nothing short of cheavenistic, despicable and aggressive pricks.  Sometimes I walked away from dinner or coffee with tears welling up in my eyes after hearing what some of these poor girls had previously endured.  Part of me totally understands why woman have little faith or trust in men.

The only real frustration of dating was finding myself often in the position of paying for meals and drinks when the body language had already suggested that I would not be seeing them again.  Maybe I’m a bit of a soft touch but I find it hard to speak up when a girl refuses to open her purse at the counter.  One girl even brought an expired credit card to pay for the date and tried to play dumb when her card was rejected.  I figured afterwards that this must be here regular trick to acquire free meals and booze.  Toishay my lovely.  I dip my hat to your cunning yet vile habit.

I remember meeting another girl for drinks downstairs from where I live and, over a two hour period, picked me apart from head to toe.  First it was my shoes.  Reminded her of England.  My hair was “too gay”.  My love of music, film and literature  was too nerdy.  My lack of desire to get drunk was boring.  My job wasn’t professional enough. I was too old to be still living in the Valley.  This went on for two hours and yes, I should have got up and left a lot sooner but I was too nice again to speak my mind.  Eventually, feeling two foot tall, I wished her good luck in her search and went back upstairs to my room where I cried myself to sleep wondering why anyone would be so heartless and cruel.

The highlights of my year in the world of internet dating were most definitely the in depth conversations I had the pleasure of enjoying over the passing months.  There are some very sweet, sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful women out there who just don’t seem to strike it lucky in their Bridget Jonesesque search for their Mr Darcy.  He’s out there ladies, don’t give up hope.  Because lord only knows, I won’t give up hope in finding my Bridget Jones……

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