Some of you may remember the frenzy of excitement in my life when I signed up for yet another dating website and fended off the attentions of deranged duck man, Ali G look a like and other fine specimens of manhood. The only one who I remotely liked (pilot man) had given me his phone number and I actually called it. Three times. None of which he answered or replied to.
This made me feel like a stalker and I was intrigued by the reactions of multiple girl friends who were horrified that I had called three times. They were convinced this made me look desperate and needy. I didn't think three calls was so terrible. My motives were pure:
Call 1 - the usual 'hello, here I am calling you as promised, give me a ring if you want to' type thing.
Call 2 - 'Not sure you got my message so I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and here I am if you want to ring me back'
Call 3 - 'Just to let you know that I'm not going to bother doing this again you time waster who led me on to think you liked me when you can't even be bothered to return my calls'
I confess that I was slightly mortified by the entire thing. I didn't think I had done anything too appalling in ringing him, particularly as he instigated the idea, but I put the whole thing behind me and, to be honest, went off the whole internet dating thing a bit.
After all, I'm very used to being single. I have only ever been out with one person and that was for just three months. I am the girl who always ends up as the good friend. I'm not a complete dog, neither am I a blossoming supermodel. I'm just normal looking. I'm pretty self sufficient, I can cook, I have read the odd thing, I know who is Prime Minister both here and in other countries, I earn my own living and on paper that all looks like a reasonable thing. It just doesn't translate into lovers queuing up at my front door. I don't know why not - if I did I expect I would have done something to sort it out by now.
Most of the time it doesn't bother me. In fact there is a definite upside to being single. You can watch what you want on the television, eat what you want when you want. You can stay up reading a book all night wearing your ugliest but most favourite pyjamas. You can fail to shave your legs and nobody will ever know. The list of pros is pretty long. The cons are there too but I try not to think about them as it only leads to depression.
There are times though that I find the arbitrariness (hmm - not sure that's a real word) wildly frustrating. I'll walk down the street and see indifferent looking girls hand in hand with normal looking guys, I see my friends pairing up and breeding for Britain and I don't know why I sit, swinging my legs, on the proverbial shelf. Not knowing how to fix something leads you to making one of two decisions. Sobbing on everybody's shoulder or getting on with life regardless. I chose the latter. Apart from anything, when I sob a lot I don't look pretty doing it. I am a snotty, red nosed, red eyed mess. I've never mastered the art of a single tear trickling gracefully out from a waterproof mascaraed eye. Maybe that's my problem?
Anyway, back to the cyberman. It must be nearly 4 1/2 months since the stalker incident and I have never heard anything from Pilot Man again. His subscription to the website had expired and I had pretty much given up on him. Then yesterday, the website sent me an email saying that there was a message from him.
It was a nice message. He apologised for never returning my calls and said he wanted to ring me but felt he had to check in case I hated him for snubbing me. He's going to ring me today, around five pm I think. I now have butterflies in my stomach and am wondering if I should go and shave my legs before he rings.
Keep your fingers crossed for me. Maybe the tide is turning.
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