A week in, I am grateful for the attention from the online daters, however, I am saddened that the ones who have shown interest fall into one of 2 camps: ‘still living with mum at 50’ or ‘step inside my lowered Renault Clio.’
Reassured by finding ‘man with Jetski’, I message him immediately, (this time withholding my inappropriate joke about death). Nothing. In fact, worse than that; he’s since disappeared. My anxiety states are currently so that I assume that this departure is after seeing my photo; his leaving the site and forfeiting not only his fee but the chance of meeting ‘the one’, all so that he doesn’t have to suffer the pain of my profile picture once again. What if he’s so offended he becomes suicidal? What have I done? Will I be asked to leave the website? Will the police become involved? (This spirals out of control until about 4am, after 2 pints of warm milk, 2 hours of sleep hypnosis and 200 pages of reasoning-writing). I wake from a dream, about a call girl leaving my son in a stately home whilst she goes clubbing, to my son patting me on the cheek, informing me he wants to make a fish pie for his best friend. I become absorbed with thinking how much the Jetski man might have liked the fish pie, had he still been alive.
During the day, I get a call from a withheld number – it could be him! No it couldn’t, he doesn’t have my number. It was the health visitor calling me explaining a home visit was compulsory, due to the Victoria Climbie case, but reassuring me it’s ok, she doesn’t think I had anything to do with the case. I thank her for her reassurance on that.
I seek support from an experienced online dater who does nothing to ease my fears and shares some troubling dating stories. The first, she is grabbed randomly post- non-communicative cinema trip and snogged awkwardly in the middle of a busy West End pavement; people, some with buggies, knocking into them. (He didn’t stop). Another date found her interrogated about, firstly, her medical history and then the medical history of her family before again being snogged aggressively at a restaurant table (once he knew she was medically safe). Oh and then she remembers the guy that went to kiss her goodbye on the underground but missed and kissed the window of the train. Then texted her awkwardly to say ‘I’m really sorry I accidently kissed the window instead of your neck.’ NECK?!!!!
Another friend confirms the disaster rate of online dating with a man who turned up with the gift of a large toy mountain dog, and another who laid everything on the table in date number one and announced his use of weapons and masks in bed.
Whilst somewhat dubious that this route could lead to true love for me, I rub my hands together at the potential writing material this could bring, just as a handsome 6ft 3” sends me a message….
Mia Darlone 