Park and ride?

Against my better judgement, I signed up for another month on Dating Direct this morning. But only because I was offered a 75% discount. I think £4.95 for a month's heartache, as every woman I email fails to reply, is reasonable value. At least it gives me something to moan about on here.

Going out last night cemented in my mind that I needed to dip another toe into the cyberdating pool. I went to Wembley to watch the England match with my closest female friend (who is also single). We then travelled across London to a not-particularly-close-friend-of-her's birthday do. She knew two people there and I knew nobody. After she had said hello to the birthday boys (they were twins), we just spent the evening talking to each other. It seemed such a waste. I don't think I've ever been to a pub with so many attractive twenty- and thirtysomething women (how I wish there was such a venue within walking distance of my flat, rather than a 90-minute Tube ride away). But neither of us had the inclination (or enough alcohol inside of us) to go and speak to anyone.

As I typed in my credit card details this morning, I thought back to a Sunday morning six weeks ago. I was in Shanghai, and wandered into the People's Park. I was greeted by the bizarre sight of hundreds of pieces of A4 paper pinned wherever they could be - on fences, hedges, trees and park benches. Some were even stuck to handbags placed on the ground. Around some of the pieces were large groups of elderly people. Around others just a couple. Others had nobody near them. Some of the larger groups of people were animated, clearly deep in some serious negotiations.

I walked round transfixed, trying to get close enough to read what was on the paper. Of course, it was all in Chinese. But some had a picture on of either a man or woman in their twenties or thirties. Suddenly, someone came up to me and asked whether I knew what was going on. She explained that it was parents 'advertising' their single children to other parents with offspring they were looking to marry off. I was told that as a result of China's one-child policy, the country had a huge surplus of bachelors (my experiences would suggest that it's the same in London). It was a cross between speed-dating for parents and an arranged marriage.

I walked on further and found a couple of profiles with some English on. Among the featured information was age, height, weight and income. I stumbled upon a particularly heated discussion and started to take some pictures. A woman rushed over to stop me. How did she know that I wasn't looking for a bride, and was just taking a picture, so that I could take it away for someone to translate? I found it a fascinating experience, even more so because none of the people being 'offered' was present. They must all have been sitting at home, too embarrassed by their parents' actions.

As I walked away, I imagined a similar scenario taking place in Epping Forest. I couldn't suppress a wry smile as I thought about the sort of woman my parents would try to set me up with (my mum always talks about she would me to get together with my downstairs neighbour, who although very friendly and personable, is very Essex). My strategy may not be bearing a lot of fruit at the moment, but I'm the only one who knows what I'm looking for.