But she didn’t accept defeat in the internet dating game.
Some shameless weeks of self-promotion on social media later – I was on a plane with several other dance-arific singles to Vegas!
(More on this trip covered in posts to come.) Okay, but not everyone can win a holiday. If it were an unrequited love, it can be a bit of a sad realization as you rack your brain and wonder “why wasn’t that me?
And what sort of a girl would want a date with the kind of loser who would sign himself up to an internet dating service, anyway?
Do you really want to be signing up to a service that will facilitate dating the kind of girl who would sign up to this sort of thing?
The inspiration for joining the internet dating game in the first place arose one evening at the pub, when my friend suspiciously left the table (and her beer) to take a call outside. The Pioneer had decided after having met the gentleman a couple of hours earlier to bring him along to the party – not because she was having such a roaring good time with him – but rather that she really wasn’t interested, and wanted to avoid him but still enjoy her evening!
She was gone for some time, and in her absence we deduced that she must be talking to a love interest… Several beverages and a bit of coaxing later, she fronted up and told the guy – while still at the party – she wasn’t interested. Oddly enough, the Pioneer later reported back later that weekend, that she’d enjoyed some of the hottest sex ever with that guy.
I knew that last night when I was busily, drunkenly clicking and typing and e-flirting. Then, two glasses of wine in, loneliness and devil-may-care, WTF arrogance to the fore, I had arranged a meeting for the following night. One side of your brain is asking; "Jeez, you pathetic, sad sack of middle age desperation has it come to this? Indulging in faux-cute email banter before arranging trysts at unfamiliar bars and pubs chosen with the specific criteria of being places where you will definitely know no one at all.
She had "liked" me and despite her suburban clobber, brassy make up and bleached, brittle-looking hair, despite the dating service’s computer calculating us as only a 40 per cent match, I had "liked" her back. Well, you find Groucho’s wise words about not wanting to belong to any club that would accept you as a member jangling your subconscious incessantly when you enter the strange world of internet dating. Uploading ambitiously flattering, five-year-old photos, hero shots of triathlon achievements and writing a dishonestly smooth and multihued biog that references your non-existent love of theatre and success at macho?
And with each individual I see or hear of happily paired up – my conviction that love can be found online is restored.