Tough Love

Look I know I’m supposed to be all secretive and feel somewhat desperate and embarrassed about being involved in Internet dating. But when you have a blog it’s almost mandatory to share your unfortunate sides (I have many) with everyone.

When I first got online, it was great. I put an amusingly flippant profile online and picture of me in a red booberella. I anticipated fielding hundreds of requests, and having loads of entertaining dates with the wonders and horrors of the Melbourne singles scene. I expected nothing more than to share the gory details with my friends entirely for our amusement, and perhaps meet a nice person or two. Just something fun to do.

I used to get about 10 responses a day, which made me feel grand. Some were OK, some had not read a word of my profile, I saw a lot of chaps who loved The Da Vinci Code, and some were not too bad.

Then I had a most disgraceful experience – for which the less is said the better, but let’s just say he rated all the food I cooked him out of ten. I went into a giant sulk for a few months, while all my beloveds reminded me what a vibrant hottie I am. I continued to sulk. Then Mr Boyle rang me up. He listened to my tale of woe, and turned it over, looking at it from all angles. He then barked: “Mate, it’s like this. You’ve got to get the fuck over yourself. You fell over and grazed your knee – big deal. I’M HERE TO PUT YOU BACK ON THE PONY AND I DON’T CARE HOW MUCH YOU CRY YOU WON’T GET ANY ICECREAM UNTIL YOU DO.”


So I teased him awhile about his pin head, then did as instructed. I penned another profile and sifted through my most booberella pictures. Then Mrs Evenden rang me up. She said my profile was delightful for people who know me – but frightening for men unacquainted with my brand of sarcasm. It was likely to attract competitive, tiresome arseholes wanting to challenge me on every point. I was also instructed to “find a picture with more of your lovely smile and less of your lovely tits.”


So I teased her awhile for weighing less than her 10-month old puppy, then rewrote, again. Demure and engaging, as told. A closeup photo, only. And do you know what happened than? I got no bloody replies at all. I was lucky to get even one response a day, from blokes spouting such bon mots as ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’, ‘No ex-boyfriend issues, please’ and ‘Love U! Lololol xoxxo ;p SeeUL8tr etc’. You can imagine what they looked like. One chap was 45, married with three kids and looking for ‘some harmless fun on the side – no strings’. Ewwwww! Ew! Ew! Ew!

Like the broken record of single women everywhere – what is wrong with these blokes. I know what I want – but what the bloody hell do they want. Why is it that even though I am a writer I cannot write sensibly about myself. Why is it that when you are well-endowed, men think you are a bit of a ‘goer’ (like the woman on the left). Why is it that when I removed the offending mad cans from my profile, all I got was ‘I am looking for my one true love my soulmate you must be my goddess nothing less will suffice’ ???

Well I am nonplussed I must say. I am neither hither nor thither.


4 thoughts on “Tough Love

  1. I do publish my email address on my blog, as many of the people who contact me are very fragile and not at all computer savvy. So far, no problems.Do you have any particular posts on your blog that I should read? We have our differences, of course, but I do enjoy what I’ve read. I think you’ll feel more comfortable in my personal blog: It has some of the same posts, but in a different environment.

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