I rejoined a dating site this morning. As is my habit of late, after a certain amount of time of wanting to meet someone the ‘normal’ way, trying to flirt with people in supermarkets and get off with defenseless young men having a few drinks after work, I get bored and decide that actually trawling profiles, emailing shit to people I have nothing in common with and going on random dates with men I’ll never see again is a far more natural and organic way to meet someone.
I’d been on the site in question for no longer than half an hour when I received my first email. I opened it excitedly and was slightly surprised to see it was from my ex-boyfriend. He wanted to tell me, by way of a message through the dating site we’d met on, that he’d joined another site recently and apparently seen me on it. Oh, the joys of modern relationships, whoever said romance was dead?
The site in question was, shall we say, slightly more ‘fruity’ in nature.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been on a fair few sites in my time. In fact, there’s nothing I enjoy more than posting naked pictures of myself online for the pleasure (and no doubt mutual masturbation session) of total strangers in the north of England. But the thought that an ex has managed to uncover a profile laid dead for over a year, leads me to one of two conclusions. Either my ex has some serious time on his hands or I need to clean up my history.
I’ve just been offered a job. Please God, that they don’t use Google.
Contemplating the situation however, one thing struck me from this revelation and, to set the scene, I’d like you to imagine my ex-boyfriend as a person one would describe as reasonably straight laced. Not square by any account but hardly a coke fueled sex addict, yet he was now, allegedly, a fully paid up member of a swinging site. I have either driven him to find solace in the arms of a gang bang or, the simple fact is that swinging just ain’t that shocking anymore.
I remember the good old days when online dating was considered risqué, people would look on with scorn and distaste at people that were ‘carrying on’ with ‘strangers’ on the net. Now unless you’re swapping partners twice a week and carrying a double headed dildo around in your briefcase you’re considered uptight. Forget a Pampass grass in the front garden, before we know it, you’ll have to have a footnote of sexual preferences on your CV in order to even get an interview.
I consider myself to be keen and enthusiastic, with excellent communication skills and flexibility, why, only last week I was bent over for no less than four hours while a couple from Birmingham took turns on me and my boyfriend wanked himself off in the corner of the room.
It takes being a team player to a whole new level.
Even the description is toned down, now we don’t bang total strangers we’ve never met before we ‘Elite Casual date’. Yawn, where’s the fun? Where’s the sordid exchanges shrouded in mystery?
In The Evening Standard, Tatler and The Sunday Times, that’s where. I ask you, what self respecting sex site has a press and media section, even the Daily Mail gets a mention! Fuck me; next they’ll have an advert halfway through This Morning. Being an online pervert sure ain’t what it used to be.
Fortunately, and this may well come as a surprise to a few of you, I’m not a woman who gives a proverbial shit about what people know about my sex life. People have sex, it’s fun, I like it, so what. In fact, to date, there is only one thing I have done which I would never disclose (well actually there are two but that one was years ago and my brother would kill me if I said anything). And despite all my excitement in knowing that there are more and more people out there willing to involve themselves in filthy, meaningless sex, I can’t help but mourn for the day when being naughty was, well, naughty.
Maybe it’s their flash new website, beautiful people or swanky party venues, whatever the reason, swinging’s on trend. Watch out Facebook there’s a new kid on the block and and it’s more than a few holiday photos it wants you to share…