epsiode 27

Back to Basics - part one

I am enjoying life in the village but fear not, I'm also going on regular visits to London and Brighton. My flatmate and I have also started to draw up a charter, so we don't become too nana-ish in our village behaviour. For example if we go to the local pub we have to wear heels. Otherwise I would probably be going in my slippers. Which might sound mad but the other day I went to Tesco in my slippers and didn't realise until I got home.
The other weekend my flatmate's boyfriend was staying with us and he bought me a copy of the local paper. I read it from cover to cover, (actually missing out the sports bit, most of the classifieds and some of the news), but I was voyeuristically drawn to the lonely heart's column. In this day and age with the internet and new ways of dating, I had all but forgotten these columns existed. I read through the ads and I have to say they were more than a bit disturbing. For example one man boasted, 'own house and kitten,' another, 'thirty year old man seeks very, very mature woman for fun.' The heading was 'Harold seeks Maud.' You get my drift. There wasn't one ad that seemed even remotely sane to me. There was definitely no one that I would even think of replying to.
Over dinner later that evening, flatmate and her boyfriend thought it would be great if I placed an ad.
'Think of it as going back to basics. After all the internet didn't work for you.' Or speed dating, or the zoo or anything else I'd tried. I looked at them with haughty indignation.
'I am not placing an ad.' I'd read them. They weren't normal, and even if I'm not exactly normal, I was more normal than Harold that was for sure. More wine and much cajoling later, I said I would write an ad to shut them up but I wasn't going to place it. They agreed to my terms so I took a pen and started writing.
Hello Sailor!
Fabulous thirty something woman seeks man, 34-40 own yacht and teeth, well-established orphan preferred, private jet a bonus but not essential for non-superficial relationship.

Before you start, the orphan thing is wrong I know but this was a fictional ad and I included it because of a terrible experience with in-laws in the past. Ones which still make me shake with fear at the thought of meeting a boyfriend's parents. And, as I said this wasn't going in the paper it didn't matter, there was no way that I was placing the ad. No way at all.
My flatmate placed the ad secretly. I wondered why every morning she would go and get the paper and read it giggling to herself. The day my ad made an appearance she made me coffee and shoved the paper proudly under my nose. I read my words with a sinking heart. Although, they omitted the word 'orphan,' so it said, 'well-established preferred.' I didn't know whether to laugh or cry but then again, just because there was an ad, it didn't mean I had to do anything and well it would be interesting, perhaps to see who replied. This was what my flatmate said when I threatened to set fire to all her clothes.
So all I had to do was wait for the single men in the Brighton area with own yacht, teeth and maybe even a private jet to call. Once I got used to the idea I expected to be inundated.
The first message that my friend received was from a guy who lived in Surrey which isn't very near Brighton. He was a manager for a supermarket and his message said, 'Like you I love long walks and the outdoors.' Eh? He had got the wrong person surely. Oh no, it turned out that my flatmate had had to record a voice message pretending to be me and she had said, that I liked walks, being outodoors and parties. Why, I asked her? She couldn't think of anything else. And I did walk sometimes.
I didn't call the walking guy, because not only was it clear that he hadn't got a private jet, but also I didn't really know how to respond. I mean the great thing about the internet is that you can build an email rapport. Because of email and text being the norm the idea of having to phone someone I didn't know filled me with dread. Even listening to his message and hearing the voice felt strange, weird and scary. Unlike the cyber world there was a real person there and I knew next to nothing about him. My flatmate offered to call him but I stole her phone until she promised she wouldn't. God, if she had before I knew it I'd probably have been on a train to Surrey wearing sensible walking shoes.
The following week I didn't receive any other responses. At first I felt a little bit sad. I mean rejection by lonely hearts column is quite hurtful. Well, not seriously hurtful, given the wording of my ad, but still. I thought I might get more than one response.
Then I did. My flatmate called me to tell me that a guy had responded and left his number. He said on his message, 'no private jet as yet, but have my own teeth.' Quite funny, and clearly he had read the ad, and he didn't say he didn't have a yacht. Again, flatmate suggested we open tentative communications, so I sent him a text.
Then there was the photo issue. With the internet at least you get an idea. Well, actually not always remembering my accidental internet date who was unrecognisable in the flesh. Could I ask him to send a photo? I didn't know the lonely hearts column etiquette and I panicked. If I met him it would be a proper blind date, and that seemed like a stupid thing to do, given the fact that I didn't know if he was a nutter. Every bit of sense in me screamed at me to ignore it; put an end to it while I still could. However, for some reason I ignored sense and listened instead to my flatmate.
We exchanged a few texts. He seemed normal apart from the time when I told him I was going to London the following day and he texted me at six in the morning, thinking I had to get up early to go to London (it's fifty minutes on the train). Oh and it was a bit annoying how he started each text with 'hello sailor.' Anyway, at some point he asked if he could call me and I said yes, but then I regretted it, and then when he called I didn't answer the phone and then he left a message sounding a bit miffed and then I felt guilty and then the following day he called again and left another message, then I felt even more guilty and then I had a glass or two of wine and I called him back. He said he wasn't sure about all this texting, and he wanted to make sure I was real. Then we chatted a bit and it turned out he lived in Worthing which wasn't very local but an hour's drive away. He said he had a gardening business but refused to elaborate. I somehow introduced the topic of my actual ad. I told him that he obviously knew my ad was a joke, but he sounded really shocked.
'Surely you must have thought it was a joke when you read that I wanted a man with a yacht and a private jet.'
'No, some people really do want that.' I was so taken aback that I found myself agreeing to have lunch in the village with him that Saturday. When I put down the phone I decided to shoot my flatmate. However, with no gun handy I had to make do with screaming at her instead and threatening to marry this guy no matter what just to get even. When she pointed out that that would be worse for me than for her I returned to the screaming.
But really, how bad could it be? One lunch in a pub in the village, where I had to take the long route to get there in case he noticed that I came out from the building across the road. One lunch with a man who answered an ad where the requirements were a private jet and a yacht. One lunch with a man whose looks were a mystery. When I asked him, just so I would recognise him, he refused to tell me. It was not looking good.
'People used to meet people all the time, this way,' my flatmate said, reassuringly.
'I never did.'
'Me either, but some people do.' I looked at her, suspiciously. 'But make sure you don't let him see where you live,' she warned yet again.
'OK.' I started to feel a bit scared.
'And don't tell him your last name.'
'OK.'
'Anyway, you can always change your phone number. What are you going to wear?'
'I have no idea.'
'Well remember the charter, you have to wear heels.'

Next week: Back to basics, part two.