bruce potterOnline Dating Confessions
May 25th 2010 02:04
Thought I'd share some of my adventures in the turgid melange that is online dating. Now that it is becoming more and more in vogue, and more a case of do you know anybody who hasn't tried it, here are some of my more curious experiences in cyber-dating.
The first date I went on was the most disasterous to date. My date had difficulties getting a photo posted, so after she approached me, she insisted we talk extensively on the phone.
This was a mistake, because we got along quite well, but phone chemistry is not real chemistry.
She described herself physically as being told she looked like Anastacia. This was quite promising, but when we met she was must closer to Zsa Zsa Gabor. She described her hair as reddy-blonde, which I figured would be a honey blonde. No, it was ashen white with blood red streaks. It looked rather like someone had been hacking into her scalp with a dagger.
She had an enormous amount of freckley cleavage on display, which may have been fine had we been meeting in a night club, but at 11am in a coffee shop it was a bit much. Don't get me wrong, I like that kind of thing as much as the next man, but it made things rather awkward when the waiter kept noticing.
The last physical feature to catch my eye was the fingernails. She listed her occupation as “artist”. When we met I asked her what sort of artist she was and she said “Nail Artist.”
The nails were a very deep red and at least 8 cm from the end of her finger tips. I couldn't believe how long they were, and then all I could think was “How do you wipe your arse with those?”
Six minutes into the date and I was staring at my phone hoping it would ring. This is where phone chemistry stops being real chemistry. We both realised the person we'd gotten to know over the phone wasn't sitting before us in the flesh.
It dragged on for another ten minutes, but the silence was getting thick enough to cut with a knife. She thankfully said that she wasn't sure what I was thinking, but she didn't think it was going to work out. I was elated, and agreed with good humour. We said goodbye and my first real blind date was over.
The next date was maybe not so disasterous as funny. She had a photo and she seemed attractive, but when we met I noticed she was a little larger then she was in her photo. To her credit she mentioned straight up that she was 25kg heavier than when the photo was taken. This didn't bother me that much, but 25kg when on her small frame was basically another half a person. But I persisted.
The second item for discussion took me completely by surprise.
“Do you trim downstairs?” she said. Now all I could think was, I wonder what she means? I only have a single storey house.
“Because I've got a full Brazilian!” was her more than joyous exclaim. Now this is all very well, but I had barely sat down and now this girl was telling me of how little hair she had in certain places.
The clincher was when I noticed that she had her tongue pierced. I asked her about it and she said it had revolutionised oral sex. They were her words. She said hadn't had a boyfriend in two years, but had been with a number of guys in that time and she'd had no complaints.
This again made things rather awkward. Okay so she's not been in a relationship, but she been a little active in some areas.
(And what sort of guy complains about such a thing anyway?)
But it was no good. I couldn't really bring myself to explore downstairs trimming and piercings with a girl I barely knew. I'm not saying I'm a prude, but it's about time and place and this wasn't it.
So two dates and two adventures into a world I barely knew.
The first date I went on was the most disasterous to date. My date had difficulties getting a photo posted, so after she approached me, she insisted we talk extensively on the phone.
This was a mistake, because we got along quite well, but phone chemistry is not real chemistry.
She described herself physically as being told she looked like Anastacia. This was quite promising, but when we met she was must closer to Zsa Zsa Gabor. She described her hair as reddy-blonde, which I figured would be a honey blonde. No, it was ashen white with blood red streaks. It looked rather like someone had been hacking into her scalp with a dagger.
She had an enormous amount of freckley cleavage on display, which may have been fine had we been meeting in a night club, but at 11am in a coffee shop it was a bit much. Don't get me wrong, I like that kind of thing as much as the next man, but it made things rather awkward when the waiter kept noticing.
The last physical feature to catch my eye was the fingernails. She listed her occupation as “artist”. When we met I asked her what sort of artist she was and she said “Nail Artist.”
The nails were a very deep red and at least 8 cm from the end of her finger tips. I couldn't believe how long they were, and then all I could think was “How do you wipe your arse with those?”
Six minutes into the date and I was staring at my phone hoping it would ring. This is where phone chemistry stops being real chemistry. We both realised the person we'd gotten to know over the phone wasn't sitting before us in the flesh.
It dragged on for another ten minutes, but the silence was getting thick enough to cut with a knife. She thankfully said that she wasn't sure what I was thinking, but she didn't think it was going to work out. I was elated, and agreed with good humour. We said goodbye and my first real blind date was over.
The next date was maybe not so disasterous as funny. She had a photo and she seemed attractive, but when we met I noticed she was a little larger then she was in her photo. To her credit she mentioned straight up that she was 25kg heavier than when the photo was taken. This didn't bother me that much, but 25kg when on her small frame was basically another half a person. But I persisted.
The second item for discussion took me completely by surprise.
“Do you trim downstairs?” she said. Now all I could think was, I wonder what she means? I only have a single storey house.
“Because I've got a full Brazilian!” was her more than joyous exclaim. Now this is all very well, but I had barely sat down and now this girl was telling me of how little hair she had in certain places.
The clincher was when I noticed that she had her tongue pierced. I asked her about it and she said it had revolutionised oral sex. They were her words. She said hadn't had a boyfriend in two years, but had been with a number of guys in that time and she'd had no complaints.
This again made things rather awkward. Okay so she's not been in a relationship, but she been a little active in some areas.
(And what sort of guy complains about such a thing anyway?)
But it was no good. I couldn't really bring myself to explore downstairs trimming and piercings with a girl I barely knew. I'm not saying I'm a prude, but it's about time and place and this wasn't it.
So two dates and two adventures into a world I barely knew.
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