epsiode 4

Accidental Internet Sex

I can’t be sure who to blame for having joined an internet dating site. One of my friends, myself, or my post-break up insanity. Perhaps it was just that after the google dating, (i.e. not dating at all) I was ready for the next, logical step. I was still not ready for a relationship, but I thought an actual date might be nice. After all, a girl has to eat.
It was really easy. You put up your profile, a couple of pictures and loads of men respond. All for about £25.00 a month. So I decided to subscribe for just one. What was the worst that could happen?
When someone dumps you, it inevitably takes its toll on your ego. Especially if you thought you were going to be with that person forever. My ego was temporarily at rock bottom, so surely my internet dating site with its promises of huge numbers of eligible men would help to lift it. I felt as if I was being immensely sensible.
In future, if I need someone to tell me I’m a good catch, I’ll ask my mother, who thinks I’m wonderful. I won’t humiliate myself by putting myself and my profile on the internet and letting my empty inbox confirm my worst fears.
I could maybe blame my choice of photograph. I’d left my digital camera in Singapore so there wasn’t a great deal of choice. In one photo I was looking a bit psychotic and threatening; the other I looked drunk.
In retrospect if I was a man I probably wouldn’t have emailed me either.

Still, I checked out the guys and I even emailed a couple. The only guys I ruled out were those that had clearly posted up photos of models from magazines, those that lived too far away, those who looked dangerously psychotic, (yes I am a hypocrite) anyone who had put up a photo of them standing on a mountain (who did they think I was, Heidi?), and anyone who didn’t drink, (not that I had anything against men that didn’t drink but I knew they would have problems with me).
Despite my careful selection process, and my obviously attractive photos, my inbox remained sadly empty.
I decided to give up; not only am I the sort of person who has no patience, but also how much humiliation did one girl need? However, I soon discovered that some stupid rule on the site meant that my subscription was automatically renewed despite me only signing up for one lonely month. I complained but to no avail, and anyway, what does it matter that it cost me £50.00 to hammer home the fact that no one loved/fancied or felt sorry enough for me to email?
But, I did get something for my money. In the end I got two whole responses. For a moment I was ecstatic. However one man lived too far away (when I said I liked to travel I meant the South of France not Walthamstow), but the other was in central London, and from his picture he looked fairly cute.
Who am I kidding? He had posted three photos. In one he looked OK; perfectly normal. In another he was topless and a third showed him gazing lovingly at his reflection in the mirror. Just because I didn’t want to go further than Zone two I was going to give this guy a go? Clearly, yes.
I emailed him back just saying hi, and we engaged in a bit of email banter before he suggested a date. I wasn’t sure, but in the end I thought, a date would be nice, or it might be. As long as he wore a shirt and didn’t bring his mirror.
It soon became apparent that dinner wasn’t what he had in mind. He emailed me to say that he wanted to be honest. He wasn’t really looking for a long term thing, but just a bit of fun. He was bored with women who wanted to save the world. Well, it just so happens that I was taking some time off from wanting to save the world. It was his lucky day.
Despite the fact that he’d lied in his profile, (so many say they want marriage and children in the future, but what they don’t say is that for now sex will do), I replied to him. And like the born again single girl I am, I walked naively into his instant messaging lair (oh yes, he was a fast mover, we were already instant messaging!).
‘What are you wearing?’ he wrote.
‘What?’ I replied.
‘Are you naked?’
‘Um, no.’
‘Do you want to get naked?’
‘No.’ (I know I should have stopped emailing him, but hey, new girl in cyberspace.)
‘Are you wearing knickers?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘When we meet will you wear crotchless knickers?’ Finally I’d had enough.
‘Is this your idea of Internet foreplay? Are you getting off on this conversation?’ I furiously typed.
‘So much so, that if give me your number we’ll continue it on the phone, or we could go straight to a hotel.’
‘PERVERT!’ I wrote back, being almost as bad at internet abuse as I am at internet dating.
It seemed that I was accidentally having some kind of weird cyber sex experience that I didn’t even know existed, and should have bowed out of sooner. Worse still was that I had paid money to have this conversation. Afterwards, I felt like taking a shower but instead I called a girlfriend and we both cried with laughter.

In talks with friends I discovered my experience was far from uncommon. And apparently he wasn’t even perverted compared with some of them. I was starting to learn a new language; the language of internet dating.
1. I’m looking for a long term relationship. Translation: Will have a ten minute conversation before trying to get into your knickers.
2. I want children some day. Translation: Will definitely be wearing a condom
3. I am looking for an intelligent woman. Translation: Are you clever enough to remember my name to shout out when I give you (or you fake) an orgasm?
4. I find thunderstorms a turn on. Translation: I’m really, really weird.

There and then I decided to break up with Internet dating, and it was my easiest break-up ever.

Next Week: What’s Your Point Caller?