A Price Above Rubies

On Online Dating

I was hit by lighting as I wandered around Regent’s Street and Piccadilly on Saturday evening.

Slightly sideways from cheap rose,  I tried to silence the pissed-up chatter in my head with a pastry from EAT, then leaned against the Ralph Lauren store on New Bond Street and thought about what had happened about 40 minutes prior. It was there I had an epiphany.

I’d cordially kissed goodbye a man I’d met online earlier that afternoon. We’d gone into town and had a couple of drinks, which fuelled some increasing belligerent chat (mainly from me). This is nothing new; I’ve been doing this on and off since 2006. But then it hit me: I didn’t want to do this anymore.

It’s fun - sometimes. Sometimes you have amazing chemistry, and fall into each other’s arms like reunited lovers; sometimes nothing happens, sometimes you bore each other to death; sometimes you have a laugh and never see each other again, sometimes you think ‘Jesus Christmas, I know I don’t want to fuck you’ the moment you clap eyes on them. Sometimes you run away before they see you. And sometimes you ask if this is really working for you.

A lot of times, this is just before you shut off the questions, log back on and start looking through your matches again. Just once more. You’ll win this time. Right? Love is a numbers game. You’ve got to be in it to win it!

Since 2006 I’ve met two men offline. One was at my work; the other was in a bar. ‘SABWAFU’ is the acronym I’d apply. ‘Seemed All right, But Was Actually Fucked Up’.

Work Man didn’t tell me about his wife (separated, and thought I’d have heard it on the office grapevine. I didn’t). Bar Guy wasn’t over his ex and was clearly on the rebound. He also seemed to be one of those ‘if she’s interested, she’s a hoe’ fuckwits. No love gained or lost.

Let’s talk about my online finds.

One set me on a journey to discover who I really was and inspired me to change my life. Another, I chat to online occasionally after we met nearly seven years ago. He said to me once, ‘You just want to be loved, don’t you?’ and yes. I do. I admit it. And, in fairness, I think that’s the one thing I had in common with the fellas I met.

I broke off an engagement when I was 25 and still think about what could have been – but it was the right thing to do at the time. I’m still chasing that high, that feeling like you could fall and you know the other person will catch you. And as any fool knows, chasing a high isn’t a good idea, because you’re chasing after the impossible.

 Falling in love for the first time is like a second, idyllic, childhood. It’s free of baggage, free of worry. You make every step in faith because you know no better, and you don’t want to. Then comes the breakup, and the lost innocence. You’ve bitten into the apple from the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. When you look for love after that, you do it knowing you’ve been cast from Eden. And with every date you go on, you hope your ‘match’ is holding the key to let you back in.

My most recent boyfriend (OK Cupid) was, I thought, perfect. Not perfect perfect, but right for me. We hit it off immediately, smiled beatifically for days after our first date, could talk about anything, and I felt comfortable enough to be upfront about my feelings for him. Sadly, he couldn’t be upfront about the fact he was still messaging (and likely seeing) other women behind my back. Needless to say, I told him about himself and got the fuck outta Dodge. And if I’m honest, I miss him, albeit not with a crossbow. Rather, I miss what could have been… but there we are.

The one before that (Soulmates) unceremoniously dumped me after 18 months. Something something midlife crisis? I don’t know. A peril of dating even slightly older men (for me, those around 40) is that unless they’re generally  happy with their lives, shit just falls apart one day in an epic fashion. And I went into physical shock for two days. Fun times.

Then we have the one (Gumtree. Yes… I know) who didn’t like me asking about the gender mix of his kids – the selfsame kids he’d told me about. That’s the sort of thing you want to know if you’re dating a father of three…

And the one who was at least a foot shorter than he’d specified, and wearing a jacket that his much bigger brother must have lent him.

• The hot one who went overboard and kept asking me to go home with him (he’s also the One Who Got Away).
• The one who was bored by me and boring to me.
• The one with the fucked-up teeth, which had been carefully concealed in every picture and then revealed in one ovary-wilting smile.
• The one I met off StumbleUpon.
• The one who apologised to me in bed. Constantly. In retrospect, he had much to be sorry for.
• The one who took me to a fried chicken stand in Leicester Square.
• The one who said ‘I definitely see you as a long term plaything’. (I was suddenly very busy after that)
• The one who was hot, but didn’t use deodorant and smelled tangy all the time.
• The one (MySpace) who turned out to be the most patronising, horrible bastard I’ve ever encountered. (I’m a strong, intelligent person, but after three months with him I felt like the dumbest person alive, and was starting to have panic attacks. Emotional abuse is real, people.) 

And yet… none of them were The One.

Online dating really feels - felt - like the most natural thing in the world; outside of my office were attractive, intelligent and available men. The web is second nature to me – it’s given me a job to do (online copywriter, since you asked). But now, I just want to meet someone organically. I want to get to know someone first before I agree to be seen out in public with them, and I want that person to be someone I’ve probably shared public space with before. I don’t want to have to advertise for love. It’s not something I can shift on Gumtree. I know, because I’ve tried.

Here’s the thing: I live in one of the busiest cities in the world. Millions of people are, right now, letting algorithms and profile-picture-inspired lust do the talking. I can appreciate that work leaves little time for a life, but fortunately I don’t have that problem. After hours I run, I dance, I write, I work, I have friends. Leaving all that behind to come home to, well, a ‘me-some’, isn’t easy, especially not when the nights are getting lighter and you think ‘summer… someone’.

As honest as online dating is in principle, suddenly on Saturday it all felt so horribly contrived. At least in real life, if you know someone before dating then there’s less of a chance of being overfamiliar and overenthusiastic before you’ve actually met them.

I’m not trying to discourage anyone; if it works for you, do it.

All I’m saying is that I’m logging off.

*click*

Eye Candy: Soon Come

rundemcrew2:

Oystercard holders would also be awesome ;-)

6 Of The Best Training Tips With Simon Freeman

rundemcrew2:

If I hadn’t met Simon Freeman there would probably be no Run Dem Crew or at least not in the guise it is now. A 2.40 marathon runner his story is a great illustration of what the every day man or woman can achieve with some hard work and dedication. Simon is our man in the know when it’s time to find out what it takes to take our running to the next level and he’s kindly shared his 6 best tips for reaching your goals. Thanks to Tom Hull for the photo.

Read More