epsiode 16

Accidental Internet Date

You may remember how I broke up with Internet dating after one brief, (but pervy) cyber encounter. And since then I have made declarations in my column about how I would never internet date again. I meant every word.
I received an email from the website, 'my single friend,' saying that one of my adorable friends had signed me up. Having never heard of the site before I took a look at it, it seemed it was being run by Sarah Beeny. So I called her (my friend, not Sarah).
'It's very kind of you but remember I said I'd never internet date again.'
'Oh go on, after all you love Property Ladder.'
I'm sure there was some logic in there somewhere.
I did what I had to do and then I looked at my profile. There was my photo staring back at me. I read on and my friend had written fabulous things about me. If I was a man I might have dated me this time. However, despite looking at a few of the men I still couldn't bring myself to email them. I was still not ready for cyber rejection or cyber humiliation. So I forgot about it.
One fine day there was a message from the site saying that I had mail. I have to say, despite all my reservations, it was a tiny bit exciting. I then read a very polite email asking if I would be interested in talking. So I checked his profile. The photograph looked nice enough, (he was clothed which was a start), he was slim with dark hair and was a couple of years older than me. He was a self-employed filmmaker. I broke my vow and replied.
We exchanged some more emails, (he was quite amusing) and then suddenly I found myself getting ready to meet him for lunch. How did I get to that stage? I swear it was an accident.
He was picking me up from the tube station, and I stood waiting anxiously outside. After a few minutes, someone came up to me.
'Faith,' he said, putting his hand out. I looked at him, and nearly fainted. And no, not from lust.
It appeared that the photo on the website was a bit out of date and had probably represented his good side.
1. Hair; grey and shrinking
2. More than a tad overweight.
3. Little round glasses
4. Bug's bunny teeth.
He said he was mid-thirties but I would have put him at a decade older and his dress sense (brown trousers, black shoes, brown jumper, and blue fleece, beige jacket - it turns out that nearly everyone I meet checks the advance weather forecast before leaving the house), left little to be desired. To be brutally honest, he resembled a Weeble. I resisted the urge to push him to see if he would wobble but not fall down.
I know I sound like a bitch but he wasn't the person he advertised himself as. I wanted to leave but how could I? I know I should have learnt by now to have a 'get out of bad date card' but I still hadn't. It all rested now on personality, although I already knew I definitely would never fancy him, at least I could have a pleasant lunch.
Question: Am I a) optimistic, b) too polite c) completely stupid?
He had booked a restaurant, his favourite Italian. As we arrived, he was obviously a regular, (which was not just visible on his waist-line) as he was greeted warmly by just about everyone there. He asked if his table was ready, and said that he'd requested a quiet one. The waiter replied, 'I know you asked for romantic.' I had to refrain from hurling myself at the door.
Answer: c.
We were led to a 'romantic' table downstairs. While we waited I looked around the room. There were black & white photos of all the Hollywood greats lining the walls. And then I noticed sitting alone on another wall, was a solitary signed photo. Of Dennis Waterman.
My companion (see how quickly he was downgraded from date), raved about the food as I perused the menu. Then he asked me if I wanted wine. Well I didn't want it, I needed it. We ordered, and then I asked him about his job.
'I edit. I sit in a dark room all day, on my own.'
'Really?'
'Yes.'
I ordered another glass of wine. He joined me, but told me he shouldn't because once he started drinking he couldn't stop.
'I've got two personal trainers,' he announced. Really, I asked. Yes and the best thing was that they were free. Did I want to hear this? One was someone learning to be a personal trainer at his gym; the other a slimming company and the man opposite me would be the before and after guy. Could things get any worse?
It wasn't just the physical resemblance to his profile that was lacking. His emails had been amusing. He made numerous jokes that were so not funny, I couldn't even pretend they were, but when I didn't laugh he looked as if he might stab me in the eye with his fork.
After one course, I passed up the opportunity for coffee saying I had to get back to work. He paid for lunch, and I was very polite as I thanked him.
'Hopefully we can do it again sometime,' he said. I smiled, in a slightly hysterical way which makes one look like a maniac. He asked if I needed him to walk me to the tube but I insisted I knew where I was. As soon as he had gone, not knowing where I was, I hailed a cab.
As I made my way home I felt confused. There should be a trade's description act for the Internet. What I don't understand is why? Do they think that by getting you to meet them they'll charm you so much you won't mind that they're five foot instead of the promised six? Do they think you won't notice? Or do they expect you to have done the same? If so, I shall put a picture of Cameron Diaz on my page next time and see how they like that when I turn up. Actually I won't, not only does that go against my nature, but there won't be a next time. Because my second break-up with Internet dating is definitely going to be my last.

Next Week: Three men and a cabbie