I received a compliment yesterday. Slightly backhanded admittedly but a compliment never the less. It was from a man online. I have recently signed up to a dating site, it was with the upmost of reluctance that I did this but was lulled back with a new PayPal widget meaning I didn’t have to get off my sofa, find my bag, find my purse, find my card and pay £25 to a site I didn’t even want to be on. It is January, all hopes of my most recent ‘love’ interest being anything other than a casual bonk have diminished and there is only so many times you can write about Christmas/New Year/diets/ casual yuletide bonks, on a blog.
I re-wrote a new profile, ensuring it was as droll and cynical as was humanly possible without being barred from the site.
My heart was screaming:
‘Hi there, Fuck Off, Thanking you’.
My head mustered up:
‘Hi there, I’d like to meet someone confident, fun and devastatingly sexy (a girl can dream). Someone who doesn’t list ‘curling up on the sofa with a glass of red and a good DVD’ as a favourite thing to do or bang on about how much they love their dog or, God forbid, cat. Age is not important, a big personality and wicked sense of humour make up for all shortfalls. In return I can promise fun, new experiences and plenty of laughs. Ps. If you have no photo I am guessing it is because you are married, ugly or in a very influential position at a well-known company. Make it be the 3rd.’
It has been suggested to me recently that men might find me a bit scary. Scary? SCARY!? That’ll show them, see how nice I can be (I even considered putting an exclamation mark after the ‘Hi there’ but thought that might be a little too jolly even by my standards). Needless to say the influx of responses wasn’t huge. But I did receive the following –
So, obviously you passed the aesthetics test or shallow men (such as myself) would never contact you, but a mate of mine was looking over my shoulder and claimed that without a doubt your profile looked to have been written by a guy; it’s just too perfect. He claimed that any profile with so little information is a dead giveaway. I came to your defense, of course but now we’ve got a £100 bet going as to whether or not you’re real. So I wondered, just between us, am I about to lose £100?
I wasn’t entirely convinced by the ‘friend at the computer next to me’ story but that aside, I have to admit that his message brought a smile to my face. And to my mind, one man out of 150,000 can’t be bad; I should try this cutting the crap thing more often!
‘Written by a guy’? Why, if I wasn’t such a miserable old bitch I would have been tempted to email him back. (Join a dating site to actually correspond with people and gasp, meet up, Christ no, why would you want to do that?) However the fact that my profile could have been written by a man could only be good thing. It meant it was short, straight to the point and totally un-flowery. It cuts the crap and gets down to business.
On top of which, that he recognized this was even better. Boys, boys, boys take note! Why, there’s no need to be scared of little old me, or any women in fact that isn’t interested in Louboutins, gets rotten drunk from time to time, says the word cunt too often, and has been known to laugh at Roy Chubby Brown on occasion. Despite all this modern man nonsense I do wonder, if sometimes, men still shit themselves when they meet a girl who can think like a boy.
Take Joan Rivers, Madonna, and The old Iron Lady herself, fucking terrifying the lot of them but who would you rather share a bottle of wine with, them or Kate Middleton? Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure she’s a sweet girl but really? I like my women with balls and if you want to have a brilliant time, a great conversation and a hilarious night might I suggest that you do too. Of course my suggestion does not come with a guarantee but, in my opinion, there’s more hope of fun with a girl who tells it like it is than one who lists horse-riding, world peace, puppies, and all things shabby chic as her interests on her profile. Not that there’s anything wrong with world peace; it’s just not as fun as smoking fags and swearing.
So, in brief, if you want me wrapped around your little finger, don’t tell me how sweet I look or how well-mannered I am, tell me I have the body of a woman and the mind of a man, because sometimes, it takes one to know one.