18 My Hug For You

Who wouldn't want to receive an email titled 'My Hug For You' first thing on a Tuesday morning?

I was delighted.

Okay I didn't recognise the name of the sender, but if they were happy to give out hugs, I would be happy to receive them.

I opened the mail and started to read...

Good morning!

Please, contribute some time to read this mail and you would not regret about it.

I suppose it would be a surprise for you but I want you to find some time to read this letter. Firstly, I want to answer the first question that you can ask me about “Where I took your e-mail?” 7 month ago, I logged the sugardaddie.com web site. Do you know it? It can be so that you do not remember me but earlier we had a talk there. I do not have an access to the Internet for a long time and that is why I could not send a message you. Now I have it and I guess we can continue our talk.
I think you are also looking for goo relations, right. I suppose that it is the only possibility for me and that is why I decided to send letter for you.

Now I want to tell you about myself. I am Rima. I am 28 years old.I went through pain and suffering during my life. Now I am happy because everything I have now I have achieved by myself. But I have no boyfriend, that is what I want to change my life now. I want to find a man who will understand and help me. He should be not only as a man but a good friend also. I want to open my heart and soul in a full way.
Now I do not depend on somebody and provide own myself. I have a good job,which satisfies all my needs. I lead healthy-life style from my childhood and regularly go in for sports. I do not drink and smoke. If you want to know me better, please, answer to my letter.

I guess we would enjoy of our talk with you. I hope you do not regret that paid attention, read this letter, and will surely reply to me. I am waiting for your answer to start our long and interesting communication. Yours Rima.

What a lovely email. Rima was right - I was glad I'd read it and I certainly did not 'regret about it.'

Admittedly I'm not exactly overjoyed about the fact she has 'outed me' by announcing that I was on sugardaddie.com. I was never going to tell you. I was too embarrassed. She looks so nice in her photo above though, that I don't think I could stay angry at her.

Yes, when I started online dating in a bid to find a man, that was my website of choice. I actually had high hopes for it. I know the usual connotations of a sugar daddy are of rich men who lavish money on poorer, younger females in return for 'companionship' but that's not how it is nowadays is it?

Well yes, actually it is, if the sort of men that contacted me are anything to go by.

There was the one whose first email to me mentioned the size of his appendage.

Or there was the guy who wanted to take me skiing but insisted that I'd have to be 'discreet.'

Actually even my first post about starting online dating will read a whole lot differently to you, now you know that I'd unwisely become a sugarbabe.

Hmmm. It wasn't exactly a success.

Mind you, I might not have any luck finding my Mr Right on it, but it looks like I've made a lovely new friend. I must admit that I can't remember talking to any females when I was a member, but if Rima said I did, then I must have.

It doesn't really matter anyway. Just as long as we've found each other now cause Rima and I have a lot in common.

She wants to find a man who will 'understand and help' her. Me too! I want a man that has no problems with my Scottish accent, and will help me carry my bags when I've been to the supermarket.

She wants to 'open her heart and soul in full way.' Only the other day I was telling my concierge that I wanted to do the same.

She's had 'pain and suffering' in her life. I have as well. Just yesterday I had a bit of a headache.

In fact the only difference is that I'm not looking for a 'goo relationship.' I'm not keen on any kind of 'goo' at all. I find it difficult even when people blow their noses around me cause I think of what is coming out.

Other than that though, I think Rima and I have the potential to become great friends. So you'll understand if I stop blogging it is just that I'm very busy having 'long and interesting communication' with my new BFF.

37 The One and Only

Sometimes I love being single.

Of course it can have its disadvantages. And obviously the fact that I've recently done such things as join an online dating agency and go on a date with a fellow blogger, means that I do want to meet someone and not end up as a spinster whose idea of fun is a new packet of Werther's Originals.

But like I said though, sometimes life as a single girl is great. The freedom, the independence, the not having to shave your legs regularly.

Then there are the days like today. The days that the universe sends you little messages to try and tell you that being single is a big, fat, negative situation. That you aren't an independent women, you are just in fact, all alone in the world. You are an inhabitant of Lonelyville. Population: One.

It started when I went to a body pump class this morning. Was quite impressed with myself for dragging my lazy ass to the gym on a Friday morning. Especially as I was out on the razzle dazzle last night. Got to the class and to say that that attendance was low, would be an understatement. It was just me.

The teacher asked if I wanted to go ahead. I decided I would. I mean it had taken a lot of effort to go to the class, I'd be as well doing some exercise. And in actual fact, wouldn't it be a bit like having a personal training session? Just without the big payment? See, there is a positive side to every situation.

My plan would have worked were it not for the fact that the teacher was clearly still in I've got a class full of people mode and deemed it necessary to put her microphone on and regularly shout instructions like 'Come on everyone! Put some effort in!'

I can only imagine that the muscle men pumping weights just outside the studio must have wondered who the 'everyone' was when all they could see was me. Was she doing a class for someone special? Body pump for Schizophrenics.

Was heading home from the gym feeling a bit like a loser when my phone beeped with a text from my friend Darren.

Hi darling. Just wanted to tell you I had an amazing time with you last night xxxxx

Great. Except I didn't see Darren last night. Plus he usually texts me as though I'm one of the boys. No, this text clearly wasn't for me.

Now this isn't a story about sending a text to the wrong person, of which I have many. For starters, there is the time my brother sent a text to a family friend by accident asking if they 'fancied a shag.' A male family friend.

No this is about the fact that I was having a little laugh to myself about Darren's mistake and was just sending him a cheeky reply saying that I thought it was lovely he'd started calling me darling, when there was another beep...

Obviously that last text wasn't for you.

Obviously. Obviously I'm not worthy of a 'darling'. Or a 'xxxxx'. Or even a 'x'. Mind you it appears I don't even deserve a 'how are you anyway?'

Arrived at the Tower and checked to see if I'd received any post. There was just one solitary envelope in the mailbox. (Are you spotting a theme here?)

It was a circular, looking for donations to charity. I opened it up. There at the top of the page in massive letters is 'One is the saddest number' and then 'Dear Friend, this letter, as you'll have gathered, is about loneliness...'

Give me a bloody break universe! I refuse to let you piss on my single portion of chips from a great height. Sometimes it is great to be a single girl. Honestly. For a start it means that you are able to decide on a whim to go on holiday with your best mate!

Yep, me and Taggart are heading off to the sun next week. Adios!

29 Mr Trafford Centre

I wasn't going to tell you about my most recent date.

And the reason I wasn't going to tell you, is because I'm embarrassed about it.

And the reason I'm embarrassed about it, is because the venue for the date was the Trafford Centre.

To be honest, I wasn't entirely convinced that the guy in question was for me. Or rather, I wasn't convinced that I was the right girl for him. His online profile listed sports that he was into and they were all outdoorsy. Things like mountain biking, climbing, skiing and canoeing. Now I'm not saying that I'm against these things. I have in fact tried some of them, but at the moment I'm living in the middle of a city. My current hobbies are more things like drinking cocktails in Harvey Nics.

He seemed keen though, so I accepted his invitation to go on a date.

He texted me...I have the perfect idea for where we can have our first date..!

Oooh where?

The Trafford Centre. It's under cover. We can shop, eat and drink!

'Noooooooo!' I said out loud when I read it.

Now I'm really not a fussy madam. I can be as happy with a chippy tea as I am going to a posh restaurant, but the Trafford Centre....? It's a shopping centre! He was even suggesting we shop. Whoever shops on a first date?

I think what most concerned me was that he thought it was such a perfect idea. We were clearly on different wavelengths. I decided to make my excuses and not meet him.

I'd forgotten all about it until the other week when Mr Trafford Centre texted again suggesting we reschedule.

I don't know whether it was the fact it is a new year, or a new decade to be more precise, but I decided to go for it. I mean imagine if he was 'The One' and I'd dismissed him purely because of his venue suggestion? And actually I was starting to see his reasoning behind it. I told him he could dream on about the shopping bit but we could do the eating and drinking part there. And we'd be out of the rubbish weather. Maybe it was a really good suggestion? Maybe he's actually a genius?

I get there straight after work. He phones me when he arrives shortly after to ask where I am. I tell him what shop I'm in and suggests he meets me there.

'No I'm not coming there. Meet me outside Selfridges.'

'OK.' Demanding.

I get there. Look around. There is no-one that resembles his photo.

My phone rings. 'I can see you! Look behind you.'

I twirl around.

'No the other way. Can you see me? Ha ha, I can see you and you can't see me!'

'Where are you?' He was starting to piss me off. And I hadn't even met him. With hindsight, I wish I'd just walked off. That would have showed him.

'I'm coming towards you now. I'm that fat guy! Ha ha! Only joking!'

He appears in front of me, still on his mobile phone.

'Ha ha wasn't that hilarious?'

Yeah hilarious.

'You really thought I was the fat guy didn't you? Were you worried? Glad to see you aren't fat by the way. I've met up with a couple of girls from the site and both were fat and neither looked like their photos. I told one I had to buy a shirt and needed to go into that shop...'

'You met up with her here?'

'Yeah I always meet my dates here.'

'Not just here in the Trafford Centre, but here at this very spot?'

'Yeah.'

Weirdo.

'Anyway she said she'd come with me, so I had to go pretend I needed to try the shirt on. Instead of going to the changing rooms I just went out the other door of the shop.Ha ha!'

'You just left her?' I said incredulously.

'Yes. The other one looked like her photo. If it was taken years ago that is! She'd put on a few pounds since then. I went to a bar with her and said I had to go to the toilet and instead I left. Ha ha!'

'Are you seriously telling me, a girl you are on a date with, about times you've abandoned other girls mid-date? Do you think that endears you to me?'

'You didn't see them. Anyway you look like your photo so you're OK, I won't do it to you.'

Arse.

Now why at this point I didn't leave ('I just need to go to the toilet...') I've no idea. I'm clearly a sucker for punishment. And have better manners than him. No, instead I bit my tongue and began my Trafford Centre date...

To be continued (unfortunately)...

34 Mr Not-So-Hot-To-Trot

I haven't updated my blog in a while, because I've been far too busy in a bubble of love with Mr Hot-to-Trot.

Come on! You don't seriously believe that do you?

Don't you know me at all? For a start if there was anything to report, I would have told you first.

It didn't actually go very well at all. In fact 'go' is probably over-stating things a bit...

You agreed in your masses (at least two of you anyway) that I could ignore my own pre-date rule, so I accepted Mr Hot-to-Trot's invitation to go for a bratwurst and a gluhwein at the Christmas markets.

He said he couldn't do the next few days but that we should arrange something for the following week and sent me his number to contact him to arrange it.

I don't think so Mr Hot-to-Trot.

I'm not that keen on having the ball in my court. Not in that situation anyway. I emailed him right back with my number. Ha! That showed him!

He then texted me. Keen. Good.

I texted back. Ball back over to him...

Next day...another text. Asking me how my day was. I said it was great or something. Think in actual fact it was pretty shit but you can't say that to someone you don't know. Best they don't find out you are a real person that has bad days until at least date two.

A few more texts.

Fair enough but this wasn't going as planned. What had happened to our date? Why had we become text buddies instead? I wasn't even enjoying it that much. Call me weird but I prefer to text people I've met.

Then it got worse. He texted me on a Saturday. At night. Asked if I was out.

What on earth was I supposed to say to that?

Of course I wasn't out. I was watching X-Factor. And more to the point, I was enjoying it. I couldn't tell him that though could I? What impression does that send out? Should I lie and say I was out? What if he then said he was also out and that we should meet up?

What a dilemma.

In then end I sent one saying something about having gone out most school nights that week and I was having a quiet one, but if he was out to have a drink for me.

Good answer. I thought.

He obviously didn't think so. No reply for ages. Damn. Why didn't I lie?

Then...Have just made a cup of tea and am settling down to watch Match of the Day.

Hurrah! He's as sad as me! (Actually I'd say sadder, but I suppose that's debatable.)

A few more texts over the next few days.

Eventually he sends one about meeting up. Finally! Didn't he realise I had people wanting to hear about a real life date, not about texts between two strangers.

He suggests a night. I can't do it. I suggest a night. He can't do it.

Oh for god sake.

Then next day he texts to say he can actually do the night I suggested...

Great! Except I had no battery and didn't get the text till hours later...

I reply eventually and tell him I can still do it. Ask if he can.

No reply...

No reply for a bit longer...

No reply for a couple of days...

What the hell?!

Why would you ask someone out and then change your mind a few hours later?

It isn't even as if this is a one-off situation. Oh no. It's happened loads.

A girl can get a complex. I mean I'm not quite at the 'nobody likes me, everybody hates me, think I'll go and eat worms' stage...but close to it.

Send him a text..A simple 'no', would have sufficed. Where are your manners?

And that is how our 'relationship' ended.

With him probably thinking 'she's a stroppy madam, thank god I didn't go on a date with her.'

And me thinking 'what possessed me to agree to go an date with a man whose profile picture showed him wearing a cardigan on a night out anyway?' (Oh it wasn't the cardigan I objected to. It's the fact it was pink. And he wasn't wearing anything underneath it. Poser.)

So if you have any advice for a girl failing miserably at online dating, let me know, and in the meantime I'll consult my copy of 'If I'm So Wonderful, Why Am I Still Single'* and see what that suggests.

Or I might just eat worms...


*Every good home should have a copy of this. Next to the Ikea catalogue.

18 Too Many Bloggers...

I'm not having much luck with this online dating malarkey.

A fellow blogger called Bamberio seemed to think so too. She suggested I go on a date with a guy whose blog she'd been reading.

Plentymorefishoutofwater was also writing about his dating experiences (the difference being that he was actually having some) and Bamberio thought it would be just 'brilliant' if me and him went on a date and blogged about it afterwards.

Now Bamberio's own blog is about rugby players so I presumed she must know stuff about men. She seemed convinced her idea, was a great idea. She even mentioned buying a hat...

I contacted Mr Fish to ask if he was aware he was being pimped out? He didn't seem to care and also seemed to think us going on a date might be a good idea.

I wasn't convinced though...

How can a blogger dating a blogger ever be a good idea?

No matter what happened on the date we'd have to blog about it. We wouldn't be able to help ourselves.

If one liked the other more than the other liked them, it would be blogged about.
If neither of us liked each other, it would be blogged about.
Even if it went really well, it would be blogged about.

Every flipping thing would be blogged about.

We'd constantly be trying to out-blog each other.

Wouldn't it be a case of too many bloggers spoiling the...er...spoiling things...?

I just didn't know what to do. So I dithered...and I dithered...and I dithered some more...

I dithered for so long that it appears that Mr Fish got fed up and started pursuing a hairdresser with a green thong.

Of course that's when going out with him suddenly seemed like the best idea I'd ever heard.

Why is it that we become interested in someone when they're no longer interested in us? It's nature's cruel trick.

It had happened to me before. I'd been on a night out in Amsterdam and my friends and I were trying to teach ourselves to pole dance in the middle of a busy bar (there was a pole there obviously.) A Dutch guy seemed to like my moves and wanted to talk to me in guttural and tell me I was lekker ding. I was far too busy trying to become Fantasia Sparkletush or something to pay him any attention though.

So what did he do? He went and sucked face with the toilet attendant, that's what.

Weirdly that's when I decided I wanted him. To hell with the pole! (I wasn't doing very well at mastering it anyway.)

It was too late though. He wasn't interested in me anymore. I had nothing to offer him. I couldn't get him into the toilets for free - you need to pay to visit many toilets in Holland, even in bars. You spend far more than a penny. It can make for an expensive night. He was actually being sensible in his choice of snog.

I couldn't compete.

Same now. I can't cut hair and I don't wear green thongs.

What do you get when you cross a blogger with a blogger?
I've no idea, I was too busy dithering to find out.



http://studsonthe22.blogspot.com/
http://plentymorefishoutofwater.blogspot.com/

21 Flibbertygibbet

I need a favour...

I've been asked out on another date.

My initial reaction was...Woo Hoo! - How good is online dating when you can get asked out on a date while you are sitting in your pj's cosied up at home? No effort required.

My next reaction was...also Woo Hoo! - That's when I saw the profile photos of the guy that was doing the inviting. Hot!

My next, next reaction was...Woo Hoo again! - Mr Hot-to-Trot was suggesting we go to the German markets for a gluhwein and a bratwurst. I love the markets! What a good date it would be!

Then my reaction after that was...Damn!

I had suddenly remembered my own rule. The rule that I made only on Monday. The rule that went something like... 1/ Always, always, always go on a pre-date first. That stupid rule.

And that's where you come in....

I know it's only Wednesday. I know it will make it hard for you to trust me again. I know you'll wonder if I'm going to go back on everything I say.

I just hoped though, that you might be able to ignore that little comment. Pretend I never made it. If anyone asks, just be like..'Pre-date? What's a pre-date? Never heard of it. Sounds like a stupid idea to me...'

That would be great.

And in actual fact, if I promise to neck the gluhwein and eat the sausage really quickly, it could be like a pre-date anyway...

41 The Date Date part 2

It's a very strange experience going out with someone you've met online.

You don't have a mutual friend to discuss to start you off. Like you would if it was a blind date.

In fact you don't actually know if you have anything mutual to discuss.

You don't even get the chance to have a proper look at your date...

I know that sounds a bit weird, but think about it... when you are out in a group you can give them the proper once over while they are in conversation with someone else. You can even make licking motions to make your friends laugh if you think your date is lovely.

When someone is sitting in front of you though, and it is just you two, you can't properly look at them. It just comes across as staring. Then they think you are weird.

Instead, in online dating dates, you have to look at them without looking at them. All the while trying to fill that space that is meant for conversation. Silences do not work on internet-born dates. They are more than just awkward...they are excruciating.

So, feeling slightly unfeminine after taking on the role of the man, and being the chattier of the two of us, I decided to take the opportunity to be the girl and satisfy that weird fable that females talk a lot...

So, I talked. Ohmigod, I talked. I talked for Britain. No subject was out of bounds.

'Could somebody please get a gag for the girl with the builder's haircut. She won't shut up.'

I talked so much I tired myself out.

I got respite thankfully, (or maybe he did?) when Mr Third Base went to the toilet. I took the chance to check my phone. There was a text from my flatmate. Well?

I was still replying when Mr Third Base came back from the toilet. I apologised for being on my phone. He said it was ok and he'd take the opportunity to check his phone.

Oh, he had a text too.

Ohmigod please don't let it be from my flatmate.

Yes, my flatmate had insisted I leave Mr Third Base's number for him. Although I'd made him swear only to use it if he thought I'd been murdered, I knew his promises were empty.

I mean this is the guy that walked into the living room, saw me sitting with a male friend and despite not knowing who he was, or his relationship to me, asked if he was one of my internet dates.

Subtle is not a word I'd use to describe my flatmate.

Please don't let him have texted my date.

Please!

Phew. The text wasn't from him.

Finished dinner. Had another drink. Had been all very pleasant. What a nice guy. I was ready to go home though. It was a school night after all.

'What time is your train?' I asked.

'Not for another hour.'

Damn.

Get through the next hour. Walk him to the train station (well may as well keep to the theme of the date, with me taking on the role of the man...) and bade each other farewell.

Get home. Tired and drained from talking so much.

Flatmate wants all the gossip.

I didn't really have any.

Wants all the details.

I didn't really have any.

Asks me what my date was wearing (I don't think in a weird, 'what was he wearing?' leery, way, just in a curious, way. I hope anyway....)

I had no idea.

I realised he can't have made that much of an impression if I didn't even remember what he had on.

Also realised I'd just spent a very long evening with a stranger. And apart from not being very memorable, the only thing I had to show for it, was a lighter purse.

Decided there and then to invent a new dating rule...

1/ Always, always, always go on a pre-date first - It won't tire you out as much, and at least the most you will lose is the time it takes to have a cup of coffee.

20 The Date Date

I was going on a real, live, date!

None of this pre-date nonsense. Someone thought my profile seemed interesting enough to want to go for dinner and drinks with me.

I was pretty excited.

Until I realised that the date was going to involve work that is.

Yes, Mr Third Base had asked me out but that is where his effort ended. He's from Liverpool so said he that despite being happy to come over to Manchester, he doesn't know it, so I'd have to decide where we were going. Damn!

Putting any fantasies I have about the man being the man and making the decisions, I started going through possibilities in my head.

Do you know how hard it is to plan an evening with someone that you know absolutely nada about? Was he veggie? Would he prefer Indian, or Chinese or maybe Mexican? Should we go cheap and cheerful? Or posh? Or in the middle?

I was non the wiser by the time I met him, so after our initial awkward greeting (where we stood about a mile from each other and just mumbled hi), I said I needed a bit of help choosing.

And his idea of helping? It was to come up with the quirky idea that we should just go to wherever the third nearest place was. Third nearest? God, where's that??? What direction??? We were sitting at crossroads! Call that a help???

Anyway, I finally managed to make a decision and off we headed. Posh-ish pub grub. Nice, cosy, log fire. Hoped he wouldn't notice that we didn't pass two places in between (well I suppose we did if you count the chippy.)

Had to wait a bit for the table. The table that I'd had to ask for. Then when it seemed like we'd been forgotten, I had to go and sort it out.

Ah, I was starting to see a pattern. Despite Mr Third Base being 10 years older than me...tonight Matthew, I was going to have to be the man.

Not to worry though, an opportunity soon presented itself for me to go back to being a girl and I took it...

9 That's Why They Call it Work

I'm really not sure about this working malarkey.

It takes up far too much time. I mean when am I meant to live my life?

What about my gym sessions? I'm never going to be able to stretch enough to regain my missing inch at this rate. What about my man search? Ive got profiles to wade through. I've got emails from small-endowed men to ignore. I've got bases to get to. I've got dates to go on. These things take time. I don't feel my temp agency thought this through properly. Either that or they just don't care.

Fact is that I've no time to work. Particularly not on a job like this one.

It just doesn't stimulate me. And as I'm a firm believer that life is too short to be filled with tedium, as early as day two I started fantasising about how I could leave.

Obviously I needed an excuse. I mean what if I want to do another boring temp job in the future? I want the agency to know how diligent and reliable I am. I needed an excuse and it would have to be a good one.

The best I came up with was contracting an illness, but I realised that plan had it's flaws. Mainly, that as well as being unable to work, I'd also be unable to do anything else.

I decided to take another approach. Instead of working out how to leave, I needed to work out how to stay.

What would motivate me to stick with this job? There is no hot doctor for me to wile away many an hour fantasising about his bedside manner. I needed some other reason to turn up to the hospital every day.

Then I got it! It was obvious! Can't believe I didn't think about it before!

I'd go on holiday!

If I managed to last the contract, I'd use the money I'd made to take myself on a trip. Somewhere hot. I haven't been on holiday for ages (the three and a half weeks in Greece were for work. Soooo not the same thing). It was a great idea!

I phoned my mum, all excited, to tell her about my brainwave. She thought it was inspired. Well what she actually said was... 'Let me get this right...you think you deserve to go on holiday if you manage to work for a mere four weeks?' Pretty obvious she was behind it all the way.

So seven days in (and counting) and I'd actually been ok. Whenever I felt like slitting my wrists with the letter opener, I'd just turn my thoughts to lying on the beach. It was easy. I mean ok, I'm not even half-way yet. Still another thirteen days to go, but I could do this. Only thirteen days. Thirteen days.

Then my temp agency called.

Agency - Just want to talk about what days you would like to work around Christmas time?
Me - Christmas? Erm isn't this job only for four weeks?
Agency - Yes, but they think you are doing a great job and would like you to stay on.

Bugger!

2 And the Award Goes to...

The 'Best Positive Spin of the Week' award goes to the guy from the dating website who mailed me and said...

'I'm fat, but I'm loaded'

While the 'Most Unneccessary Positive Spin of the Week' award goes to the creator of the poster on the noticeboard that I sit facing at work...

Mouth Cancer. It could happen to you!

3 (Small Pecker)

(Small pecker) has been in touch again (figuratively speaking that is.)

He's persistent, don't you think? Especially for a little 'un. Bit like an annoying mosquito.

I thought that despite my lack of reply to his first email, he must have decided I was the women for him and he was going to have me no matter what. No, it turns out that he'd just forgotten he'd emailed me in the first place.

I felt hurt actually. Am I that forgettable? I bet he would have remembered me if I'd replied mentioning my bra size.

Anyway, back to the mail. This one was worded slightly different but the bottom line was the same (sorry, couldn't resist!)

Hello really nice geniune profesional guy looking for a relationship or friends possible arrangement maybe with the right gal, being really honest, no offence meant, I am not very well endowed sorry !! and happy to make allowances hence my honesty broad mindedness and flexability , no offence meant !! im 100% geniune, came to a great understanding arrangement with an x gf xx

OK, he can't spell, which is a pet hate of mine, but who can resist a 100% geniune, flexable guy?

Actually, if he'd sent that message in the first place.....without the misuse of brackets.....he would have had me at hello.

3 Off-Side

I went to Third Base with a boy today.

Now before you start calling me a floozie and thinking I've let some random guy put his hand up my top, I should explain that bases are different in online dating world.

First Base - refers to the initial emails you send each other on the dating website. Back and forward, back and forward, back and forward, until one of you suggests you go to.........

Second Base - which is MSN. This is where you get to have a virtual conversation, so can suss out if you make good banter together. You might converse for a few days - more if one of you is agoraphobic and isn't actually looking for a date, just someone to talk to. (Yes, yet another thing that has actually happened to me) But if you both like each others chat, you might get to......

Third Base - which is the real conversation. On the phone. Then....

Fourth Base - is the actual date. And....

Fifth Base - is letting them put their hand up your top.


Anyway, my guy skipped second base and went straight to third. Forward. I liked it. Good start.

Only thing is that when the call came I wasn't really expecting it. I was in my pyjamas and for some reason it is hard to talk to someone you don't know while wearing pyjamas. You know what I mean don't you?

I also hadn't saved his number so when unknown digits came up, I wasn't actually sure it was him. Did I ask him if it was him? Noooooooo! Of course not! That would be far too easy! Instead I just tried to suss it out by things he said. Like a fun game. He wasn't playing it very well though. His clues were rubbish. Saying stuff that anybody could say to me. For god sake give me something to go on!

Eventually I realised it was him. And the way I realised? It was because the conversation was as awkward as can be.

We'd made the mistake of trying to be smart while in First Base and our emails back and forward, back and forward, were about Barbie and Ken, rather than ourselves (you probably had to be there...) We thought we were oh so clever, trying to out-funny each other and ignoring the boring chat about hobbies and why we were on the site. Hmmm. Yeah, really clever. Clever until it came to the phonecall and we had absolutely nothing to go on.

He asked how I was? I asked how he was?. He asked what I'd been up to? I paused. Now did he mean what had I been up to today? Or did he mean in my whole life?

It was hard work. There were silences. And they were not comfortable ones.

Finally though! A breakthrough! He asked what I do for work. I said I work in TV (don't you dare tell him about the medical secretary thing. It doesn't count. Just like my night working in a Gentlemans Club does not maketh me a stripper.) He asked if working in TV was glamorous. I laughed. The ice had been broken! I could now regale him with interesting stories about TV. It would be fine and he'd think what a great conversationalist I was!

That was the idea and it could have worked. Were it not for the fact I went off plan and instead told him about a job I did in America. I know this sounds like a good start and you imagine this story should involve glamour. My friend Ed also thought so because he actually texted while I was on the shoot asking if I was doing something exciting and glamorous. I'd replied 'yes, very' (waste of a 60 pence text quite frankly) and left it that. What I didn't want to tell Ed, (and what I probably shouldn't have told my Third Base partner but unfortunately did) was that at the very moment...... the glamorous thing I was doing......was......waiting for a baby to shit.

What in god's name did I tell him that for?!

Did I explain that I was on a programme about attachment parenting? Did I tell him about elimination communication? Did I explain to him how some mums don't believe in nappies? Did I tell him these mums say their child will make a certain expression when they need to 'go'? Did I tell him the mums say they see this expression and rush them to the toilet? Did I tell him we were waiting to prove or disprove one mum's claim that she could do this, for a very important documentary?

Did I heck.

No, I just left it at the conversation-stopping line that I worked on a programme involving baby shit.

The phonecall went back to downhill, from there.

Doesn't look like I'll be getting to Fourth Base anytime soon.

20 It's a Joke

I have bad news.

On Thursday I told you I was going on a date this week. Six foot plus man had asked me out. His profile was nice, his photos were nice and the mails he had sent me were nice, so why not? Finally! A real date!

You could have come round to help me get ready if you'd wanted. I could even have filled you in on how it was going when he nipped off to the toilet. It would have been like you were there with me. We were all going on a date!

Then he sent me a text. A text containing a joke.

Now call me old-fashioned, but when you haven't actually met someone I'm not sure you should be sending jokes to them (or photos of your bits for that matter, but that's another story...)

It was one of two jokes I heard this weekend.

One was from my cousin's 4 year old, while the other was from my date.

One was...funny, while the other...was from my date.

One was...repeatable, while the other...was from my date.

One was... 'what do you call two robbers? Answer - a pair of knickers',
while the other...involved bonfires and muslims.

So we are now, no longer, all going on a date.

So far the dating website has provided me with old men, men who look like serial killers, men with stunted appendage growth and now racist men.

I'm going to ask for my money back.

17 Positive Mental Attitude

If you'd got the idea that I was feeling a bit negative about the dating website I've joined, you would be right! As I paid for it with money I got when my beloved grandma died, money I'd decided to spend entirely on new, and potentially life-changing experiences (will fill you on this properly another time) I decided I needed to change my attitude. There must be some normal men on it somewhere, I mean, I'm on it and I'm relatively normal. I just had to find them.

I logged on, full of hope, ready to embrace this adventure. There was a mail waiting...could it be from my dream man...?

hello recently joined again, nice pic and profile by the way :), im single fit geniune guy just looking for some fun or relationship with a decent gal love to pamper and treat a gal, take her shopping and trips away, have to be honest,cant lie, sorry !!sporting a rather (small pecker) sorry !! well so ive been told lol :) hence open minded and happy to make up for it in other ways :) trips away, meals out, shopping etc, had an excelent arrrangement with the x gf , no offence meant !! x

No. It wasn't. My dream man will know how to use brackets properly.

19 The Good, the Bad and the Serial Killer

When you have 20 unopened emails it all seems so promising...

I'd put up my profile after much deliberation (a male friend advised me my first one was crap and then the dating site itself didn't approve the second one - I didn't write enough about my hobbies seemingly! Maybe cause I don't have any?! Note to self: must get some hobbies.)

I'd chosen a photo that hopefully gives a true idea of the way I am (after being told the pet hate of men on these sites is meeting up with women who look nothing like their photo. It was quite hard to find one that shows my size, height, my hair, dress sense as well as one that shows I love X-Factor but hate mushrooms .)

I'd waited a bit to see if I was even going to get any mails and then had paid up in order to be able to read and reply to them.

I was now good to go. With 20 mails to read I was bound to have struck lucky...

Opened number 1. Looked like a serial killer. He even commented on how evil he looks in his photo, like he was proud or something.

Number 2 had no photo so could have looked like a serial killer.

3 had plenty of photos but unfortunately they were all just of his torso, showing his muscles.

At last! Number 4 sent me a nice funny mail, his profile is nice and so is his photo. Things are on the up!

Number 5 is 50. And yes, by 50 I mean years old. Does my photo suggest I'm looking for someone closer to my dad's age than my own?

Question my choice of photo again at number 6 as he states in his profile that he 'abhors TV.' I'm sure my photo clearly suggests I love X-Factor, Greys Anatomy, Home and Away and many other quality programmes.

Number 7 tells me he's only looking for 'no strings attached.'

Number 8 likely to be looking for the same as he asked if I would be interested in someone well-endowed. Does well-endowed ever mean tall cause his profile says he is 6ft 5. Nope? I didn't think it did.

A nice normal guy for number 9. Relief!

Number 10. Aged 56. Am losing the will to live again..

Number 11 is a bit of a contradiction...funny mail but really serious looking guy in his photo.

12 has told me I seem 'elegant'. No-one has ever described me as elegant before. Probably cause I'm not. Definitely need to change my photo.

13's message to me consists of 'lol' this and 'lol' that. Now with only six more messages to read maybe I'm not in a position to be fussy but I'm just not a big fan of lolling.

Number 14 says he can be a 'perfect gentleman or semi-thuggish depending on the needs.' At least if I feel like I'm need of a slap I'll know who to contact.
15 is 5ft 5.

16 is aged 59. I think I'm going to cry.

17 has sent me an absolutely hilarious mail...hurrah!..then I look at his photo...noooo!....he looks like the child catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

I don't think I need comment on number 18. I'll just let you read his mail...'wow--you have done something to me with just a picture--what kinda voodoo do you do when you do that thing you do--hot damn--what in the hell just happened to me--can you please email me--we need to chat--and i am far from crazy--but you...wow- no--really--i don't know what just happened, but i have to chat with you--what did you do to me--lol--'.

Number 19 lives in Birmingham so says he isn't expecting a reply but just wanted to say hi.

And finally number 20...nice enough but all his mail says is hi and how are you? A bit uninspiring. And I'm not sure he'd really like my answer at the moment. How am I, number 20? I'm in disbelief that I've just paid over £40 for this....