Online Dating: The seemingly good, the inherently bad and everything confusing in between

Game face

Over the last two years I've been a sporadic online dater and by sporadic, I mean I've taken it seriously when it has suited me and by suited me I mean when I've felt lonely.

There are only so many wistful quotations you can reblog on Tumblr before you decide that you're no longer being ironic and take romantic matters into your own fingertips. Loneliness is the key component to every dating site and worldwide there are over 20,000 to choose from - with 15 million of us single narcissists registered in the UK alone!

If social networking is our PR machine, online dating profiles are our company website. Virtual outlets where we eagerly curate wholesome representations of ourselves. Compartmentalising our tastes in art and literature, inserting witty captions to vanity shots and fabricating what we do in our spare time.

For me, free dating sites have become a natural transition from social networking and my experiences have afforded me wisdom and insight which could never be taught through institutionalised schooling. But I'm by no means an expert. I see online dating for what it is: fun and occasionally useful. I don't herald it as the definitive method to achieving a meaningful relationship. It is simply a method.

And through this method I've met and gone on dates with an array of men, some of whom were misogynists while others were quiet psychopaths. I've met men who were cheap, men who dress like my dad, men who dress like hipster 17 year olds, men who have made me listen to Alicia Keys while walking next to them and men with meaningful tattoos which they talked about at length. Yes it was cringe inducing, but I've also met men who are now good friends of mine and have introduced me to many other good friends. So if any of these men are reading (which I suspect that they might be), I'm not going to discuss you on my blog any further.

I am however going to discuss the profiles of incidental men I happen to come across, who are very noteworthy and sadly representational of the bulk of who you encounter. Whether it be because they've sent me a message or simply because of their own misfortune for appearing on my home page. And this isn't a gender thing; I'm quite sure if I was a man browsing women, that I'd have an equivalent story to tell about what happens when mundane meets mental. An understanding of how people choose to represent themselves via online dating profiles is a source of not only a great curiosity but great fulfillment. (Well, to me anyway!)

Village hypocrites 

Sometimes I like to think of my blog as the stocks and right now, it's brown lettuce time.

Everyone can be hypocritical on occasion, but the depths to which people are so incredibly hypocritical that you laugh out loud and actually point is never so glaring than when captured on a dating profile. These men are obviously not reading anything which they've written back to themselves. Proof reading for spelling and grammar errors is just not enough. The most ridiculous level of hypocrisy occurs when they demand a certain criteria from their ideal partner, which they're clearly not emulating themselves. We'll call them the village hypocrites.

He's looking for a lady who is selective, yet the green light stipulates that he replies to messages often. So by his own definition he too is a "village bike", yet he would reject a woman who is as accommodating with her correspondence as he is. He's also looking for a woman who is sane which would make him a fantasist, not to mention the fact that he is very obviously insane himself for not realising the stark hypocrisy of his statements.

The darker side to a man like this is the fact that he considers a woman who has had a lot of online conversations with different men to be tainted and damaged goods so to speak. The quiet psychopaths are always the most ominous and judging by what he considers to be slutty behaviour when it comes to other men, this simple statement has shone a light on what appears to be a sinister jealousy streak.

Women: Don't write this man a message. Even if you do reply selectively and feel smug about it.
Men: Don't copy this tactic because I've just instructed women everywhere to ignore it.

Besides everyone knows if you're looking for the village bicycle you're not likely to be on OkCupid where the village hypocrite resides. No, if you're looking to arrange a date quickly and easily you head over to POF (Plenty of Fish or plenty of people who prompt you to quit dating and resign yourself to actually fishing for the rest of your life). Which is where I encountered this confused man-child:

Apart from the fact that he's made a Star Wars reference to avoid admitting he still lives with his mother, he's also unwittingly incorporated one of his pet hates into his own profile. I wouldn't be so aggrieved that the profession he'd chosen for himself was an evil genius if that level of intellect was present in his ability to write.  Which predictably it isn't. While I can empathise with his first point (I also require someone who is able to write a sentence in its entirety), I'm incredulous as to how he's gone through life this far mistaking commas for full stops when numbering bullet points.

The darker side to a man-child such as this is that he's very clear and detailed about what he doesn't want, but is vague and uninspired about what he enjoys. From his short sentence about himself all I've gathered is that he occasionally leaves his mothers house to get drunk, having spent the day watching slasher films and operates vehicles at random presumably while still drunk. Next.

Women: No instruction needed here, this type of profile is text book avoidance.
Men: List characteristics you find desirable in a potential partner, not the opposite.

Conclusion

The trouble with misanthropy is that while it can be very amusing to read in other areas of literature, it's just not an attractive quality in an online dating profile. Take it from a seasoned misanthropist who rants about her dislike of everything all of the time.  As a result I've been defined by what I don't like as opposed to what I do like. In fact, people who know me are still skeptical as to whether I take pleasure from anything at all.

This is not the first impression you want to make in a dating profile, it's the kind of impression which makes someone roll their eyes and click next. Online dating is kind of like what voting is for everyone else, you just pick the person you dislike the least. So, as with politicians, online daters need to eliminate the obvious traits which pose a threat to the results of their opinion polls. When laying out what you expect from a potential partner, it's one rule for everyone. Not just yourself. 

Love is Not a Spectator Sport

"Kind of like an alcoholic Cagney and Lacey" - @MartynKelly

A few months ago @Oh_Merde (who is pictured above) inquired about how I cope with this "single and dating thing". Fairly fresh faced when it comes to singledom, she was hoping to obtain some insightful relief from let's be honest, a veteran. However at the time I was hardly feeling particularly wise. I had been applying hair removal cream on my upper lip and decided that a little dab of it on my sideburns wouldn't hurt. When I received the What'sApp message from her I was mortified and peering at what looked like the remains of a vacant patch of carpet next to my ear. So I absent-mindedly replied with, "I don't. This is why I've given up and am spending my Friday evening essentially shaving my face." (For the record, I now spend every second Saturday afternoon at House of Fraser, where a woman named Vera threads my face).

But I was reminded of her question today, while shackled to my desk during one of my wistful daydreams over unrequited situations of the past. And it led me to the realisation that I have a coping mechanism which I implement these days without even thinking about it. Pessimism. Or is it realism? I'm torn at the moment and a little worried that my past experiences of rejection have caused this irrevocably jaded outlook on my romantic life. Because the result is total and utter ambivalence towards relationships and men in general. Don't get me wrong, I go out on dates and spend a lot of time (OK all of my time) drinking raucously with friends at various watering holes. What I'm trying to assert here is that I could have sex (and more importantly a life outside of hair removal) if I desired it. 

But it's not that I don't have the opportunity for romantic endeavours to flourish, I just don't have the inclination to capitalise on them. Some people are starving for emotion, I on the other hand am fasting. All this time I thought I'd been dusting myself off, moving on and being better for it. But I appear to be simply repeating the same mistakes with different people. I don't cope, I just put distance between myself and whatever it is that has hurt me. Evidently this method of pushing negative emotions to the back of my mind and letting them quietly fester as a mental illness have manifested as a somber cloud over my love life. 

I've cast my mind back over the last twelve months and the highlights are more than a little comedic. There was the one-date wonder who revealed he had just being diagnosed with clinical depression, a guy who proceeded to have sex with a girl immediately after me while I remained a prisoner in his house, a younger one who commented that I hadn't taught him anything despite being an older woman and a wholly dysfunctional infatuation with someone I've never actually met. But what's really enlightened me is my reaction to these failed scenarios. Or the lack of a reaction more like. Except of course to derive humour from them. 

Which is my ultimate coping mechanism, otherwise known as my armour. If in doubt I go on the offensive with a joke. But I'm getting increasingly weary of the one-woman show and now I'm not so sure that it's been good for me. I've been of the opinion that it's detrimental to get upset and laughing through the pain of being unwanted was surely the best remedy. Some people are too frightened to experience new relationships because past pain acts as a deterrent. I've been too frightened to experience the pain at all. Which is exactly the problem. I've been under the false impression that I'm immune to being hurt. But just because germs are invisible doesn't mean they're not there. And ignoring them has led me to a bedridden state of romantic apathy. 

But there's a glimmer of hopeful light on the horizon. Last weekend I succumbed to revealing my feelings to someone. Well sort of, in my own little flirty digital way. It totally backfired on me however and I was thrown the ultimate curve ball: the revelation that he now has a girlfriend. Who is apparently completely perfect for him. And it hurt. But it's good. Because it affected me and I'm OK. The clarity of the situation is a relief actually. Uncertainty is acutely treacherous and the real detriment here, not pain. In fact, the experience has awakened a flicker of desire for intimacy with someone and I know that eventually someone will set it alight. Taking solace from that knowledge is keeping me warm and for the time being that's really all I need.

Dirty Knickers Translates Womens Lies on Video!

It's been a long time coming but I've finally made my first little Vlog. It overly emphasises my spidery eyelashes and rather ominously has Thom Yorke lurking in the background. (Well, what did you expect?!)

In it I detail some of the classic lies women tell men in order to keep them parked in the friend zone. Let's face it, she's never going to regard you as that person who will be strong and take charge of a situation.  Sure, when she pulls that cute expression with those big innocent eyes, you'd swear butter wouldn't melt behind that perfectly formed pout. But she knows she can have you, and therefore doesn't want you. So, stop wasting your time fixated on winning over this girl, because that's exactly what it is: time wasted.

What do you think? Click the link below and share!

DIRTY KNICKERS FIRST VLOG

Sapphic Repercussions

About two months ago I wrote a post about a sexual fantasy I'd been harboring for a while and in typical dirty knickers fashion it featured some downright candid and unabashed opinions The fantasy in question was my desire for a same-sex encounter and in case you missed it the first time around you can read it here. On the whole it received some wonderfully empathetic comments and praise. But it also shocked and disgusted some people. Most notably because I'd posted the link to my Facebook wall (apparently casual lesbianism isn't ready to be accepted among my Facebook friends, but when it comes to casual racism no one so much as bats their culturally ignorant eyelid). Much to my amusement I was also excluded from social events with acquaintances which I would have ordinarily been invited to - had I not divulged my covert lesbian fantasies. I can only assume they now live in fear that I'm going to attempt to queen them at any given opportunity. In front of their boyfriend. In public. (Yes this sounds incredibly enjoyable).

I've always been of the opinion that by not justifying yourself to your critics you're having the last laugh. But I've decided to start writing a bi-monthly post which will address some of the backlash I receive for documenting my honesty on the internet. And before you start accusing me of wallowing in self-pity, I'm not going to write paragraph after paragraph moaning about how misunderstood I am. Instead I'm going to be frank about why I do the things I do and try to inject a bit of humour into the situation. (After all when gravity fails me funny will be all I have). It shall be commencing this weekend, so brace yourselves.

In the mean time if you're now in the mood for some talented lesbian musings, here are my recommendations:

"It’s utterly stupid and juvenile. I seem to thrive upon Unrequited Love, I could love you forever if only I could never have you. Maddened, titillated and passionate I’ll go to the ends of the earth and free fall off into the deepest depths of a never shared love. Poetry and prose run bountifully from my fingertips, Mumford & Sons and Bon Iver will play dutifully into the night… Until that irritating moment when you turn around and say; “Actually, you’re lovely. Do you want to go on a date?” and ruin my whole melancholy, broken artist in love look. I’ve never actually been on a date..."

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"Everybody acts differently around different people, it’s Human nature, but how far can you go before it turns into a case of hiding who you are? Especially in the gay society we feel we have to – not so much hide but.. reserve our sexualities around certain people, whether it be out of respect, uncertainty or even fear. I’m not a person that is afraid to share my sexual preferences with anyone and everyone, educate, humiliate and fight my corner but even I sometimes feel the atmosphere thicken and think twice about my loud and confident approach when the topic rears it’s head. I’ve been paying extra close attention to my many different Lesbian personalities over the last week or so and I’ve noticed the following..."


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"So, after spending plenty of time scraping the metaphorical barrel in my small town, for beautiful lesbiansexuals, I excitedly searched further afield. I ventured out to the next biggest town, with my token gay male friend, filled with the expectations and hopes so high I could have wee’d with the anxiety. I had not been in the dingy so-called Gay Bar an hour; and I had already been rejected by the only straight girl in there, almost punched in the face by a psychotic who was convinced I was trying to get with her girlfriend, oh and been shunned by someone else because they refused to believe I liked women..."

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