IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME. OR, THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS

Ok folks apparently I may have been a wee bit melodramatic recently. It’s just possible that I may have let this whole dating thing get a smidge out of perspective. Maybe. So - drum roll - I am turning over a new leaf. Actually make that an entire tree. Henceforth I shall be the embodiment of calm. An unflappable, unsinkable, zen-like force of pure serenity. Stop sniggering. I will, honest.

So, in the spirit of acceptance and the realisation that I chose to put myself on the dating conveyor belt, an intrinsic part of which will always be rejection and indeed rejecting, I come to the sticky subject of brush-off techniques…

Is it better to be honest? Or do you favour the old disappearing trick? How do you read between the lines of that vague text? Are they trying to be cool or are they sending you the old don’t-call-us-we’ll-call-you? If you’re on the receiving end of any of these at least it is fairly clear cut...

There’s the classic: It’s not you, it’s me…Which is true of course – it’s not you, it’s me…I don’t like you.

Or the whole My ex is back on the scene and now I’m really confused approach. Surely the perfect get-out-of-jail-free card. I may even recycle this one myself.

If you like your brush-offs slightly more creative, and frankly unbelievably pompous you may enjoy this recent gem: I'd hope you could use this experience to narrow and further define future choices, as I will.

But the prize for most creative effort has to go to the man who came up with…I’m moving to Damascus to be a war correspondent. There’s no way I’m that bad a kisser.

And what if you want to leave the door open in case your first choice drops out? How long is too long between dates? Or indeed texts. Well if the man I recently second dated is anything to go by apparently it’s fine to not contact you AT ALL after said second date for 2 whole weeks and then reappear with a chirpy invitation to third date without even so much as a nod to the vanishing act. Maybe he’s been in a coma?

That’s the thing with internet dating – you’re juggling so many balls that occasionally you’re bound to drop one. Or get them mixed up. As was the case for one man who contacted my friend after their date to say, "it was lovely to meet you but I just didn’t feel that elusive spark". Have a nice life yadda yadda. Never a nice message to receive but we were impressed by his honesty and resolved to try and emulate him in future. The effect was slightly undermined however when he texted her weeks later saying, “Hey! What happened to you?” I imagine he was slightly mortified when she pointed out his mistake.

So, it’s pretty clear. No matter how you spin it. And no matter how much you want him to love you. If you’re on the receiving end of a mix-up, a vanishing act or just a vague text there’s no getting around it: HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.

THE AGONY AND, WELL, THE AGONY

Warning: this post may make you feel sad. Or it may make you want to punch me in the head for being a self-indulgent twat. Either way probably best you read some Charlie Brooker or something instead.

I am heartbroken. A saggy, baggy, listless, staring-eyed blubbering blob of rejection. And all because of a man I met ONCE.

When I first embarked on this chapter in my life the main difficulty was getting the dates in the first place – see previous post for details of how to fix this problem. Then I had a run of men falling in love with me while I callously toyed with their hearts. Ok, slight exaggeration but I certainly felt pretty bullet-proof.

And then. And then.

And then a great big, shiny, super-clichéd lightning bolt struck last week when I met a man who felt like the one I’d been waiting for my whole life. My missing jigsaw piece. A man who, after just a few hours in my company, looked deep into my soul and told me things about myself that it’s taken me 30 years – and great vats of wine - to figure out. Even before I met him it was apparent that he was different. Just writing to him made me jettison 4 of the 6 dates I had set up for the forthcoming weeks. I couldn’t imagine the point of meeting with anyone else now I knew there was someone this wonderful in the world. And naturally he was going to think I was wonderful too, right?

WRONG.

Not that he hated me. Or thought I was a dick. Apparently he “totally liked" me but he just “didn’t feel it”. The lightning bolt that knocked me off my feet didn’t even ruffle him. Bless him, he tried desperately to make me feel better about the whole thing but you can’t make yourself fancy someone. I know; I’ve tried. And at least he had the decency to be honest. Still, whenever I catch sight of his profile, or see he's online, I feel sick to my stomach. I am trying hard not to reread his texts. More than once a day anyway.

It probably seems a bit crazy feeling this strongly about someone you barely know. And there is an argument that internet dating is not real life. But I don’t agree. I think it’s real life on hyper drive. The whole rollercoaster experience condensed and repeated ad infinitum. And it's exhausting.

Hurry! Hurry! No time to waste. Hear that sound? Yes it's the hollow sound of my rapidly emptying ovaries weeping.

And you know what? I don't think I even heard them before I jumped on this crazy cyber conveyor belt. But now the pace is frantic. I'm being shunted around Yo Sushi being peered at and occasionally picked up before being rapidly put down again. And from time to time someone will try me and think, yeah, nice, but I'm sure there's something better on here. And I'm doing the same thing. Only what I really want right now is a big plate of comfort food. Nothing fancy; no chopsticks. Something I can eat with a spoon. On the sofa. In front of X Factor.

I'm not sure how many more times I can wonder what it was about me that wasn't apparent from my photos or write up that just didn't appeal. Have I made the brochure too glossy?