Image by Don Hankins via Flickr
Okay, am going back to early autumn for this particular dating delight. Meet Tom – we’d been chatting online one night, and he offered, at 2am, to shower and hop in his car for the hour’s drive to my home, to have sex. What a gentleman, eh? 😉
I refused his kind offer, but agreed to meet him for dinner the next night. You’re probably wondering why. Well, Tom was different to anyone else I’d ‘met’ online; he seemed confident and assertive, manly even.
And he didn’t send me pictures of his willy.
Oh damn you, online-dating-fake-persona! Within a few minutes of us meeting, I just knew Tom lacked testicles. Call me a cow, but I cannot stand that ever-adoring, puppy-dog, you’re-so-lovely-and-I’m-so-grateful-I’ll-do-anything-to-please-you face on a man. It makes me want to slap him, and yell, ‘Grow a pair, you wuss!’
His idea of conversation was to agree with every Tiny thing I said. I began contradicting myself and making the most ridiculous of statements just to get a reaction. No chance! Tom just simpered and bobbed his head like one of those nodding dogs you see in the back of a car.
In fact, the only interesting comment he made all evening was this:
‘God, I walked past this old wreck of a car in the car park. It was falling to pieces. And it didn’t have a proper back lens cap, just a piece of Christmas pudding wrapper taped over the brake light.’
‘Was it a faded green Fiesta?’
‘Yes! Did you see it, too?’
‘Kind of,’ I replied. ‘ It’s my car.’
But the best bit of our date, the pinnacle of our jovial time together, the absolute epitome of our shared experience was walking through town and stumbling across a Gay Pride gathering. The streets were awash with loud lesbians and happy homosexuals, high on celebratory, unfettered sexuality. And beer.
How did my confident, assertive, manly date react? He darted from his roadside position to the inside pavement position, so that I was shielding him from ‘danger’, his eyes, wide, like Bambi caught in oncoming headlights. He thrust one arm across my shoulders, and wrapped the other around my waist. The bloke was terrified! If he’d possessed balls, they would’ve shrivelled to the size of acorns.
And the moral of this story, children? Never, ever believe an online dating profile. Even if he comes across as a testosterone-fuelled ‘real man’, underneath there’s just a scared, pathetic, homophobic Big-Girl’s-Blouse!
Prince Charming, my arse! 