Wednesday, January 18, 2006

One for the team

Today my dignity sacrificed itself on the altar of my ego. I joined a dating service.

I know I know. There's something so contrived and artificial about it, not the natural, organic process of glimpsing someone across a crowded train station and falling instantly, madly in love, blah blah blah.

Here's the thing, though: After last thursday night with Scott the Wonderscott, I realized what it was I'd been missing out on all these years. For the first time in my life, really, he gave me a taste (quite literally!) of how the rest of the world lives. Now that I've glimpsed the promised land, I'm less content to just sit here and wait for a messiah to bring me out of the darkness. Before I didn't really know what I was missing. Now that i do, i find i'm much less patient, and i flat out REFUSE to spend the next three years like I've spent the last 9, miserable and alone. Given my rediculous schedule, I just don't have the time or means to hang around in coffee shops and hope some tall, shaggy, intellectual boy sits down next to me and asks me what I'm reading. Not gonna happen. So I've decided I must take a more (please forgive me for using this word) proactive role in my love live. I need to meet people, that's all there is to it. And this dating service seemed like a pretty decent means of doing so. So there you go. I've done it. You may now proceed to take the piss.

6 comments:

ZB said...

Consider it taken. I joined a couple then had the eyes across a crowded room thing at the weekend. Fate. Funny fucker.

hendrix said...

take the piss? certainly not. There's no difference between going to a nightclub in the hope that you will meet someone or joining a club of people who want to meet someone?

Besides which my bestest friend Judegirl metthe man of her dreams through an online dating service. They've now been married nearly two years. They work!

Timorous Beastie said...

My mate Che joined speed dating and ended up with Algerian Wonderboy, who she didn't like at first, but now she thinks is Wonderboy. Don't, though, go out with anyone from Glasgow, under any circumstances. Or, for that matter, anyone from the west coast of Scotland. Unless they are called Henry or Hamish, then it's OK.

hendrix said...

A few simple rules (following on from timerous beasties valuable and valid advice)

don't date anyone from scotland
don't date a man with only 3 letters in his name
don't date a man wielding an axe (or a guitarist who calls his guitar an axe)
don't date anyone who tell you the name of their penis
Don't date a man who knows more about menstrual cycles than you
Don't date a man who is in love with his motorbike
Do not ever date a man who calls his mother "little darling"

however
Newcastle men are cool but often not that brainy
Men from the south of france are wonderful ( this in unbiased advice as I lived in a house with 5 of them when F and I first got it together.

Chaucer's Bitch said...

Don't date anyone from Glasgow unless they're named Hamish or Henry? Are you sure? What about Scott? Surely Scott must be ok? (Did you read the last post?) This is bad. I like Scottsmen. They wear kilts. Kilts make me happy. Very.

hendrix said...

NO Scott is not a scottish name.
Hamish yes
Henry havent met a scotsman called henry
any amount of Alistairs
quite a few Gregors
Andrew/Andy's in spades
Callums only if they're middle class
even a few davids
but nary a Scott in scotland