There are so many messages in my collective dating website inboxes that I think I am going to have to take on staff.
I imagine this is how Obama's life is. Except with more hate mail. So far no hate mail for me.
All my messages are very nice. A recurrent theme is 'you have great energy'. Which I like. I've been told I come across intelligent (who me?!) and one nice man said mine was the standout profile in a hundred 'vanilla' profiles, that I clearly had a personality and what's more, a pulse. Bravo!
One man though drastically too young, said I had given him faith that the site wasn't filled with all robots, and 'who wants to date a robot, they are metal and have claws'. Despite unbroachable age gap I replied to him for the robot comment alone.
I have been invited on a killer sounding date off the bat with no chitchat! And been sent a poem!!! Written for me, about me!!! One kind messenger messaged simply to tell me I was a beautiful woman. Nothing more. No questions. No nothing. Just you are a beautiful woman. God bless you Dave.
I AM rather rolling around ungraciously like a pig in flattery mud, and it is likely to come biting me on the ass like a bed of humility flea's, vanity, the don't call it a deadly sin for nothing. But if I am it's because it's just what the doctor ordered for my little human ego after three months of date one taking me apart like I was a car for parts with comments like 'your skin looks old' and 'you have ugly hands'.
And most of these men sending messages are actually attractive, witty and CLEVER. Ooo do I love a clever, witty, attractive man.
There is the Good Doctor, who does peace and disarmament work (stop) and recently climbed Kilamajaro (no stop!), the very handsome american professor of education and politics.. no, not a yawn! very funny and astute. There's the handsome irish/italian/hawaiin (i'd go on a date with a man simply for that exquisit racial mix alone! And a quiet and thoughtful looking (but cute, with a mop of curly brown hair) student of contemporary music, who is taking me out for a cocktail to ask me about natural therapies and tell me about Jung (!)
Of course there are the forklift drivers who don't read books and main hobbie is that he likes animals...hmmm And the tall handsome builder types who make you want to straddle something, but misspell and don't have a volume of questions beyond 'what are you up to?'. And the obvious veto's such as the profile name hashcake, all those in the 42 and up age bracket, and the man who describes himself as 'you lonely, you meet me, 18-65 ladies'. Oh bless. There's someone for you! But I aint the icing on your hashcake honey.
So i better stop writing this blog and get writing clever, funny, intelligent and thoughtful replies!
I've been thinking how this blog frequently diverges from it's title, and how i hoped it might actually because i would like to have a whole long exhausting list of GOOD dates thank you very much! And so it should perhaps be re-titled Cinderella and The Great Quest For True Love Or Something Close To It: A girls expidenture into dating with a romantic, sometimes cycnical, perhaps irreparably broken but hopeful and optimistic heart.
If you are wondering about 'expidenture' it is a word i made up that is a cross between expenditure and adventure. Which is a bit what dating feels like.
Think about that.
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