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Ten reasons why internet dating rocks…

1965 Pajamas

Yeah, I know. I haven’t exactly been encouraging about the whole online dating scene, but that’s because I’m only meeting dorks. Takes one to attract one, I suppose…

But today, I’m being positive and listing the advantages of cyber-dating.  Mr Right could just be one click away, right?

  • It’s comfy! You can date in your fleecy jammies from the comfort of your own bed or sofa! You don’t have to suck in your stomach all evening and nobody cares if your bum looks massive!
  • It’s cheap! You’re not paying out club entrance fees or buying gallons of alcohol for Dutch courage. You don’t need a new dress. Or new shoes. Or co-ordinating make-up and perfume…There are no restaurant bills, no tips, no taxis home. And if you choose a non-paying dating site, it’s free, I tell you! Free!
  • It’s fun! Especially if you invite the girls for the evening. Break open the Bacardi Breezers and the Pringles, and you can all huddle around the laptop laughing choosing a mate.
  • It’s easy! You don’t have to shave your legs, tackle your underarm foliage or pluck your eyebrows. No squeezing your tired tootsies into six-inch stiletto heels, or detaching your retina with the latest volume enhancing mascara wand!
  • It’s character building! Role play to your heart’s content, baby. You can be Marilyn Monroe one night, and the next, Slutty Selina the Sausage Slayer. But don’t try introducing yourself after a couple of vodkas…
  • It’s convenient! You can date on a Saturday night and see Anne Widdecombe dressed up like a fairy, and watch Wagner singing the wrong words badly on X Factor.
  • You can dream! It doesn’t matter if your virtual date is bald and toothless, in your head you’re with Johnny Depp on a moonlit Caribbean beach, the shush of the waves lapping at the shore, the scent of coconut oil mingling with the tropical rum cocktail you’re sipping, and he leans towards you. You look into his dark, chocolate coloured eyes.. The world melts away. He edges closer. Your lips meet, gently at first…(Just remember to set the scene beforehand – whack up the central heating, dim the lights and flush the loo for maximum trickling water effect.)
  • There’s no stress! At the end of your date there’s no pressure to snog, or go to go back to his for ‘coffee’. You don’t have to faff with all that embarrassing ‘Give me your number. I’ll ring you’ stuff. It’s just Click! and he’s gone. And if your date’s beginning to resemble a scene from The Shining, it’s Click! He’s blocked. Goodbye, sayonara, Auf wiedersehen, prat.
  • There’s no limit!  You don’t have to stick with one moody, self-centred, ill-mannered, weedy, needy, simpering, whimpering bloke all night. In one evening online, you can date hundreds of the miserable fuckers!
  • I’m on there! The number one reason why anyone should sign up for internet dating  – you might meet me! Lovable, funny, wobbly bottomed ol’ me!  🙂



How to avoid nasty looking bottom fungus…

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I don’t seem to be having a great deal of luck looking for lurve, but it’s not so bad, you know…

Advantages of being single:

  • Ladies,  you need never shave again! No more fiddly, intimate area trimming, chin-plucking or near-death-experience leg-waxing.  Just let that foliage grow, girls, grow! 
  • You can watch back-to-back chick-flicks for the whole weekend, wearing the same pair of stinky, egg-stained Winnie-the-Pooh pyjamas without some miserable bastard saying, ‘Why are you watching this crap? Football’s on in a minute… Are you crying? God, you are! You’re crying, you wuss!  And what’s that god-awful smell?’
  • As a singleton you always get to sleep on the dry patch. Gone are the days of chafed skin and nasty looking  bottom-fungus.
  • Your new hobby is munching crisps in bed. When you’ve finished, swap sides and sleep on the non-crunchy, non-cheese-and-oniony part of the sheet. Ideal.
  • There is no need to shower or clean your teeth before going to bed. So what if your breath smells like a decaying landfill site? Ain’t nobody there to complain except for the dog, and he kinda likes it. Reminds him of licking his balls.

Disadvantages of being single:

  • You have to put out your own rubbish bags. It’s particularly disastrous when the bag splits because you haven’t been arsed to empty the bin for a week, and it’s midnight, and it’s pissing down and you’re scrabbling over the path for squidgy tea bags, rotting chicken bones and the pungent  remains of last night’s Rogan Josh lamb biriyani.
  • When you’re getting all dressed up for a night on the town, there’s nobody to answer that all important girls’ night out question:  ‘Does my bum look too big?’  Actually, scrap that. Add it to the list of advantages. No woman needs to hear the answer to that particular question unless she’s doped up on Diazepam.
  • PMT is particularly problematic when you’re a Singleton. Screaming at a man is great therapy, although I’ve often found fencing with a newly sharpened carving knife is a much more intimate way of getting in touch with your feminine side. Can’t beat it, really.
  • Finally, there’s no wardrobe-jumping, chandelier-swinging, rampant, all-night sex. But then, it’s the same when you’re married    😉 

Looking for Mr Right? I’ve found Mr-Not-Right-In-The-Head…

Good news! It’s not just me! All my friends have strange men lurking in their closets, too. Metaphorically speaking, of course… Somewhere around the fourth bottle of ASDA plonk last night, the horror stories started to emerge. It was like something out of a Twilight movie.

Between us we have dated:  

  • Mr-I-Miss-My-Mommy
  • Mr-I-Need-A-Hug
  • Mr-I’m-Only-Interested-In-Flat-Chested-Stick-Insects-With-No-Pubic-Hair-No!-Of-Course-I’m-not-gay!
  • Mr-Eek!-A-Spider-I’m-Weally-Weally-Fwightened
  • Mr-I-Love-You-With-All-My-Heart-Where-Shall-We-Go-On-Our-Second-Date?
  • Mr-I-Can’t-Keep-It-Up-Without-Steel-Pins-And-Superglue.

Oh yes, we’ve all been out with  him. Several times.

I mean, honestly. I know we’re in our forties.  Nobody’s expecting Mr-All-Night-Piston-Penis, but please! Is it too much to ask for Mr-Slightly-More-Tarzan-Than-Jane?

Now, had it just been me, I could’ve understood it; I’m not maturing like a fine wine, for example. No, I’m aging more like that avocado, forgotten in the back of your fridge – squishy, wrinkled and bruised. But my mates are gorgeous, vivacious, intelligent women. They have personality, boobs and everything!

It can’t be them.

No, there’s definitely something weird  going on with middle-aged men; they’re lost and lonely, weedy and needy. For the love of Mars Bars and other things holy, where have all the bastards real men gone?

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