Being a total Friends addict, I refer to a quote from that very show to puncuate the point I am trying to make with this article:

“I can´t believe my parents are pressuring me to find one of you people!” Monica Geller.

Since I split with my last serious boyfriend at the age of 28, I have had far too many conversations with my mother about when I’m going find a suitable young man to settle down with and pride her with much longed for grandchildren. Each time the conversation rears its ugly head I recoil in mock horror and protest at the lack of decent eligible men.

Having tried internet dating as well as the more conventional methods of meeting men, I find myself still resolutely single. What I do have for my troubles is a slightly battered heart and a mild case of paranoia when it comes to overanalysing the things men say and do.

I can (and will) recount some of my more entertaining dating scenarios here for your amusement.

Mr Fuckwit…After a very enjoyable first date followed by some very encouraging text messages, the man I now refer to as Mr Fuckwit asked me out on a second date. I went along thinking everything was going wonderfully and couldn’t wait to see him again. He had been so charming on our first date, sexy and yet gentlemanly. That rare combination we seek in a man. He was a little quiet when we first met up but I put it down to nerves and made the extra effort to be zesty and cheerful. It wasn’t until later that evening that his real problem came to light. We bumped into a good friend of mine at a local bar and while I was in the toilet, Mr Fuckwit told my friend that I was way out of my depth with him and that it wasn’t going to work. Not a problem for me since it was only our second date but why in the hell did he ask me out again? I decided not to confront him about it and just not see him again, which made for even more amusement when he invited me into his bed at the end of the night! I think you can all guess my response.

Mr Mummy’s Boy….He invited me back to his house on our first date. We’d met in the afternoon and had a lovely meal and drinks and were getting on very well, so when he invited me back, I made it clear that I had no intention of sleeping with him but said I would gladly go back and have a drink or two. Since we were getting along so well I didn’t want the
date to end. I followed him back to his house and as I pulled into the driveway I wondered why there were two others cars there. What he had failed to tell me was that he still lived with his super strict disciplinarian parents. Every five minutes his mother popped her head around the bedroom door on the pretext of offering us a cup of tea or a biscuit, but the look in her eyes said she was making sure her precious son wasn’t getting up to any funny business. I did want to give him the benefit of the doubt so for our next date I asked him back to my place and offered to cook dinner. He said he would love to but he had to be home by 10 o clock as that was his curfew! Argh!! That was the end of that very short lived relationship.

Mr Monkey Boy….A classic if ever there was one. Our first and only date took place athis house. It wasn’t meant to be that way but he got the directions to his house wrong and by the time I found it to pick him up (he didn’t
drive) it was too late to go out to eat. He made me beans on toast and plied me with cans of fosters lager. I still thought he was quite cute until after a number of cans of lager we got naked on his living room floor. He was hairier than King Kong, and had a penis the size of one of those stubby little lottery pens. I am not kidding at all. It was tiny, and getting a condom to stay on and not fall off was a feat in itself. That night was the first and only (thank god) time I have had to use the phrase “Is it in yet?” The cringe factor was way too much for me to give it another go despite my general opinion that size isn’t everything. I managed to get through it the first time and didn’t even bother to fake it. He even had the nerve to use the lousy line “Was that good for you too babe” afterwards. I didn’t dignify him with a lie and just replied “Why was that it?” I don’t normally sleep with guys on the first date but this was one occasion that I was glad I found out his ´shortcomings´ before getting in too deep.

These are only three of my dodgy dating experiences, and believe me there are far too many for me to recount. Commitmentphobes, Emotional fuckwits, Compulsive liars, Players and of course Mr Unavailables. I’ve attracted my fair share of losers.

I’m not saying all men are bad, but in the world of online dating it is so easy to get charmed by someone before you even have a chance to meet face to face and see if the chemistry is there. I’ve also had some very dodgy emails through one particular site. An offer of “enough money to keep me in Chanel No5 for a while” if I would let a 67 year old man come in my face, is the most disgusting one that springs to mind. I almost vomited when I read that. There are doubtless a lot of really nice men out there looking for love online. After all if there are decent women doing it then by the law of averages there must be decent men too.

So the question remains, is online dating the way forward? I’m not utterly disillusioned. I’ve met one good guy through this method who I would happily have loved forever. Ultimately he broke my heart, but not through any mean-heartedness, just through circumstance. I’ve also made two really good friends. Both have been known to be players where women are concerned, but since I’m not romantically involved with them I find it highly amusing to lecture them on their appalling behaviour.

I think the key is to be discerning. Keep your senses alert for warning signs. They are there if you allow your heart to acknowledge them and not be blinded by a need to love and be loved, or pressured by parents who nag you until your ears bleed.

Don’t settle for less than you want or deserve. Avoid all signs of fuckwittedness and you should be fine.

About the author: I’m a single 30 year old living in Nottingham. I recently dyed my hair blonde (albeit a dark blonde) in a vain attempt to inject more fun into my life, either that or subscribe even more closely to the Bridget Jones-esqe life that I lead. I work as a credit analyst which bores me rigid, but it pays the bills. I have lousy rotten luck with men, and I’m still hoping for my Mr. Darcy. I think there’s a good chance I watch too many chick flicks since I’m starting to lose faith in the existence of a decent man. I have a mildly serious case of handbag addiction and I’m a typical Virgo – I like things clean and neat. Visit my blog

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