So the other day I got a message. You know the ‘other’ folder in your instagram DM’s. The ‘1 new message request’ notification. These always send a shock of excitement down my solar plexus. What wonder could be waiting for me in there? My next great love, reaching out from the digital abyss that has let me down so many times? A sweet declaration to save me from all this sordid searching? Nope.
Toddy! What are you doing witholding that kind of angelic chorus? So poetic was this addition to my inbox, I felt it only fair to share with the rest of the world on my instagram.
Now at this time – I was texting a gentleman who was seemingly lovely – from what I remember. We met after my work Christmas party, so it has to be admitted, I wasn’t 100% sure what he looked like in real life, if he was actually a nice bloke, or what we spoke about? After one cigarette and one drink I retreated into an uber and home – decidedly too drunk for that to count as a first date.
I had my doubts – he was a bit over my usual age range at 37, and he rode a motorbike which I don’t find sexy, simply reckless. Plus that squeeky skintight gear and mask makes people look like some sort of sad gimp. In truth, a reliable minivan is the way you’re best to rev my engine. (Ooh yeah baby, help me move).
He also didn’t look like his picture anymore. He had bleached his hair. You’re 37, and in the words of my friend Ruth ‘You’re not Gary Barlow pal’.
I confessed to him that our first ‘date’ wasn’t the conversational cacophony it should have been and if he wanted to meet for a drink at the pub we could give it another crack and I could start from sober. And so what if I didnt find him that attractive now? You can’t have everything in life and in my mind you can get someone less attractive than you a hell of a lot of easier than the other way around (WHAT? EVERYONE’S THOUGHT IT).
He went a bit quiet the day of the date – but this isn’t my first rodeo so I just waited it out. Then out of the blue – this:
This got me thinking? Is this a hell of my own making? Do I date men who are awful just to get a rise out of them so I can write a funny blog? There’s a theory that what you think about you attract. By showing people the feckless cum shedders I encounter on the reg, am I making it OK to act like a dong of the highest order?
Well this guy was a maniac before he even got to make it into the blog. Maybe this is a hell of his own making? As the year comes to a close, this is the type of self reflection that is really important you know?
P.S I did mean the bald thing.