International rescue?

Dating Direct is pulling every trick to get me to extend my membership past the initial week. The problem is that its strategy is attracting only women from overseas. In the past 24 hours, I have had more ‘views’ or ‘winks’ than during any single day in the 18 months I have been signed up to the website. Among a smattering (about 10%) from England, I have had interest from Russia, Cyprus, the Channel Islands, Italy, Bolivia, Vietnam, Scotland, Norway, Libya, South Africa and Romania. Most of the women haven’t got pictures of themeselves and their ages range from 18 to 65.

Why would a wink from a faceless woman in La Paz encourage me to part with my money, even if the first line of her profile reads: ‘I am a very lonely woman in need of some immediate attention.’

Words don't come easy

I’d been thinking about rejoining Dating Direct for a couple of weeks. I’d received a couple of emails (from women in this country!) that I wanted to read. Then I was sent a message offering me a week’s membership for a quid. So I was straight in there.

Neither of the emails was very exciting. Both were entitled ‘Hi’. Both were short. The more interesting one was from a woman with a child. Been there, done that. The other one read simply, ‘fancy a banter?’ Not with you, thanks for asking.

An hour after I had read the emails, the sender of the latter contacted me again: ‘say hi its (sic) my last eve tonight I dont (sic) bite ????’ As I generally believe in being courteous, I sent her a message saying; ‘Thanks for your messages. I’m afraid that we are not suited. Good luck in your hunt for Mr Right.’ Two minutes later, she replied: ‘im (sic) not asking you to marry me.’

Indeed, but why waste time emailing someone that you’re not attracted towards on any level, ticks none of the boxes you want ticked – and has a six-year-old’s understanding of grammar.

A few minutes later, another email popped into my inbox. Breaking all the rules, it was imaginatively headed ‘hi’. Why is there so little creativity out there? I’ve spent up to 20 minutes thinking about a subject line for one of my emails. Anyway, the message read: ‘Smooth or crunchie?’ I liked it – even if she couldn’t spell one of the three words she had typed. It was a reference to my profile listing peanut butter as among my favourite things. Unfortunately, the sender was 40 and had a child.

It beats me why women don’t read your criteria before contacting you. Mine clearly states that I am looking for someone with a maximum age of 37. I don’t contact women that have stipulated a minimum height of six foot. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.

Silence ain't golden

I contacted three people last week who, perhaps, I shouldn’t have.
First, I texted the doctor. All I asked was ‘still friends?’ Seemingly not, as she has failed to reply. I’m disappointed because I don’t want to lose touch with her. She’s good company and one of an ever-declining group of people I can call on when I want a night out. Plus, she may have a nice single friend (although she is nice and single herself).

Second, was my ex-girlfriend. I sent her a couple of texts asking whether she read this blog (I couldn’t remember whether I had sent her the address) and another on the subject of a standing joke. None of them merited a reply. I was equally disappointed. I know it’s not the done thing to stay in contact with old flames, but the nature and brevity of our relationship should not preclude this. It was only a few weeks before she ‘announced’ her new relationship that she was talking about meeting up, and only a couple of weeks before, she initiated a conversation on Facebook.

Maybe her ignoring me is best for my peace of my mind – in the long run. As I’ve said before, I am struggling to come to terms with her new relationship. And I admit that when she revealed who her new bloke was, I looked him up on Facebook. I wanted to know whether he was better looking, younger or taller than me. All I’m going to say is that there are more than 300 pictures of him on the website.

This time last year, we were very close friends. We’d had a very enjoyable kiss, but she didn’t seem to want a relationship. I turned down an invitation to her 30th birthday party, and she texted me twice during the evening saying how much she was wishing I was there. Although I wanted more from our relationship, what we had was still amazing. After a complicated few months, we were a couple for about 12 weeks in the spring. So having been very close for a year, why just because we shared a bed (very occasionally) for three months am I not allowed to have any contact with one of the best friends I have ever had?

Third was a woman who lives in the flat opposite me. I saw her coming back from a run one day, probably about three years ago. Then a few days later, she was returning from Tesco with ‘shopping for one’. As she looked more my age than most of my neighbours (who are mostly couples, anyway), I put a note through her letterbox, asking her out.

I heard nothing for a few days, then Michelle emailed me. She said that she was flattered, but had met a bloke during a trip to Australia a few months previously, and he was coming to live with her in a couple of weeks. We exchanged a couple of emails, during which it transpired that she was the same age as me, also a self-employed media worker and a Guinness-drinking, curry-loving West Ham fan. She even asked me if I could be her Aussie bloke’s mate, cos he wouldn’t know anyone in London.

After that, we inevitably lost touch. But about a year later, Michelle contacted me. She had split up with her fella. We exchanged a few emails and then embarked on a pretty intense texting ‘relationship’. I’ve still got some of her messages, as they were quite strong, considering that we had never met: ‘I can’t wait to get my hands on you’, ‘I’ll keep you up all night’ and ‘if you’re lucky, you’ll find how bad a sweet girl can be’. She even sent me a couple of photos of herself.

For various reasons (including Michelle temporarily moving to south-west London, while her parents rented her flat), we never got round to meeting. But about two months later, at our annual residents’ meeting, there was somebody sitting across the table from me, who kept looking at me. Having seen Michelle twice only from a distance, I didn’t think it was her. Whoever it was, looked great. But then somebody addressed her by name. So after the meeting, I went over for a chat. I suggested going out for a drink, but she said it was tricky, because she was still living on the other side of London and hadn’t seen her parents for a while.

So Michelle told me to email her. I did a few days later. No reply. I tried again after a few weeks. Nothing. She’s back in Epping now, although I think she’s seeing someone (he looks about 10 years older than me, is overweight and must have been heartbroken when C&A went of business).
Since that few weeks of intense flirting (and Michelle did all the running), I have heard nothing. It’s such a shame, as we have so much in common. Now the only mate I’ve got in Epping is moving to Docklands, so I need a new playmate, as the idea of trekking into London on a Saturday night is becoming increasingly unappealing.

So, in a moment of weakness, I decided that I might as well notch a hat-trick of knockbacks (after the doctor and my ex) and sent this email to Michelle: ‘With my last Epping mate moving to Docklands next month, I’m in even more need of a curry-loving/Guinness- drinking/West Ham-supporting/self-employed media-type runner as a purely platonic playmate. So how about it?’ Nothing.

As good as it gets?

I’m feeling very sorry for myself. You know when you have one of those periods when nothing seems to go right? Well I’m definitely wallowing in one of those.

Problems at work and my gambling losses are beyond the remit of this blog. But the state of my love is the major catalyst (compounded by my ex-girlfriend having met someone else).

In an effort to cheer me up, my best mate took me through all the positives in my life. And there are plenty, as I have detailed in a previous posting (see 20/10). He then said that I have had a 'good year' on the woman front. Suppressing my laughter, I took him through the past 11 months.

February: had dates with two women I met on Dating Direct. Neither wanted to see me again.

March: met ‘the doctor’ (see 23/9) on a weekend in Yorkshire. There was a real connection – and she was single. So I asked her out. She said no.

March: went on a date with a woman I met through a friend. She didn’t want to see me again.

March-June: was seeing my ex-girlfriend (who only agreed to go out with me after several months of pleading).

July: was best man at a wedding, where I gave a speech that was very well received. A woman I have met before came on to me as strongly as anyone ever has. She gave me a kiss and told me not to go anywhere. She never came back. At the end of the evening, I asked a very single older woman for a kiss. She declined.

August: met Gemma in Costa Rica. Got on better with her than any woman I have met since I was 23. We talked non-stop for eight hours. I emailed her a couple of times when I got home. She sent me one dull reply. When I told her how I felt about her, she ignored me.

September: went out with the doctor. Had a great evening. Asked her out again. She said no.

October: emailed five women on Dating Direct. Received no replies.

I suppose I am, for literary effect, being slightly economical with the truth. I didn’t want to see any of the three women I went on dates with in February and March again. Two of them were nightmares. One refused to take her coat and scarf off, then said she wasn’t over her last ‘boyfriend’; they had been together for three weeks. The other was carrying a bag of grapes, ordered the only drink on the cocktails menu that was not part of the happy hour deal and the only thing she had any passion for her was her job (and she was a recruitment consultant). But it would have been a bit of an ego boost if somebody had developed unreciprocated feelings for me, for the first time in my life.

If that’s a ‘good year’, I don’t know whether I will survive a bad one.

Regrets, I've had a few

It must be hard being dumped on Facebook. I’ve just discovered via the website that my ex-girlfriend has got a new bloke – and I’ve found that upsetting enough. Particularly as all her friends are far more excited than when we got together.

It’s a combination of her finding someone new, while I can’t even elicit a smile from a woman, and the fact that I was beginning to think that I had made a mistake splitting up with her.

It’s a long story. But in brief, we met on holiday 15 months ago in Africa. We stayed in touch and became close friends. As has happened countless times over the years, I wanted more from the relationship. But for the first time ever, the subject of my feelings gave in (food certainly is the way to a woman's heart), and we started going out together in March.

She ticked so few of the boxes on every level that were important to me, but she was just so lovely. And she was certainly the most attractive woman ever to have looked at me. But as time went on, not were only the big “issues” still omnipresent, but a couple of new ones came to light. And for that reason, I couldn’t put as much into the relationship as she deserved.

We kissed goodbye one Friday night in early June after a night out in the West End. And although we are still in contact by text and email, we haven’t spoken since. She went on holiday the next day, and when she came home, we split up by email.

I wasn’t that bothered at the time. I had a lot on my plate (I was preparing to be best man at a wedding and was planning a month-long trip to Central America) and being single was less stressful. But as time goes by, I am struggling with the fact that we have never spoken about what happened or heard her view of what I did wrong.

One of my closest female friends says that I’ve just been “unlucky” with women, while a close male friend insists that I am too fussy. I maintain that I am not too choosy, but the fact that a close friend has recently given up his long-held singledom to settle down with someone who, although I’m sure he loves, is not “ideal”, because he doesn’t think he is going to get any other offers, has made me think that I should have put more into my last relationship. Should I have compromised what I am looking for? After all, I’m not getting any younger, as my mum keeps reminding me.

I’ve got only four single male friends – and it’s hard to imagine three of them ever being anything but single. Is that how people see me? I don’t want to be part of that gang. Two of them are in their mid-40s and still live with their parents. They’re lovely lads, but as far as I’m concerned, they would probably fail to trouble the scorer when it comes to a list of criteria that I imagine most women are seeking in a partner.

I, on the other hand, and forgive me if this sounds arrogant, think that I fulfil most requirements (or requirements as I perceive them). I may have a face that only a mother can love, be a couple of inches shorter than I’d like to be (I got the inches elsewhere) and can be pessimistic and a little sarcastic. But I’m a decent chap (I give up my seat on the Tube for pregnant women), well educated (from 13 O Levels to the best journalism course in the country), successful (I have virtually paid off the mortgage on my flat), healthy (I know all the trainers in the gym by name, haven’t had a day off since I left school and can make a pint of Guinness last all night) and respectable (I never eat food off my knife – at least not when anyone is looking). I’m also regularly told that I’m thoughtful, a great listener and very funny.

Yet I’ve had only three short-term relationships in 20 years – and only the one this year was someone who could be regarded as a catch. I don’t want to be on my own for the rest of my life. But my last two experiences of relationships make me unsure that I want to settle down. I’m hoping that they just weren’t the right people. I really don’t know. And that’s half the problem. If I don't know what I want, how can I hope to find it?

Romance is dead

If you’ve logged on expecting some musings about being a single thirtysomething, or the latest episode of unrequited attraction, then you’re going to be disappointed.

My love life is barer than Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. For the first time in years, there is absolutely nothing going on. I haven’t got my eye on anyone, am not flirting with anybody on email and have no dates lined up.

I did email Gemma in San Jose, telling her exactly how I felt. I didn’t exactly declare undying love, but I did tell her that I fancied her (despite a set of tattoos that most navvies would have covered up). I didn’t get a reply. But as she hadn’t replied to my previous message, I was hardly surprised.

Perhaps next time, I’ll delve into my overflowing annal of sob stories.

Past my sell-by date

I have officially gone into retirement. I have signed off of all dating websites, terminated my gym membership (there’s no need to keep in shape now; I can reclaim my place in Greggs’ hot-pastries queue) and have enquired about buying a litter of cats (if it’s good enough for spinsters, it’s good enough for a confirmed bachelor).

As I feared, my evening out with someone I am very fond of a couple of weeks ago was not a date. The evening flew by, as it did the last time I saw her. But the chemistry that I feel is there obviously doesn’t exist from her point of view.

I must admit that I stormed off at the end of the night, like a stroppy child who hadn’t got his way. I think what upset me most was that she admitted (rather coyly) that she had been reading my blog (and I don’t suppose she meant the ones about West Ham or my other life as a ‘professional’ gambler), which had alluded to our night out. So she knew I still had feelings for her.

Unless someone has got a single friend (in her early-30s, about 5ft 4ins, with short hair and a degree in banter) they can put me in touch with, this might be the last you hear from me for a while. Actually, I think I’m being a little fussy. As long as she’s female and has a pulse, I’m interested – and even the latter isn’t a pre-requisite.