Today is one of the those days where you just wish there was someone to share your life with. Someone to snuggle up to in bed while you watch films, someone to annoy while you’re trying to tidy the house, someone to just HUG. As Annie Lennox so perfectly said, “I just want someone to hold”.
Now, as I said the other day, the etiquette of this website is different. Profile pictures tend to be of anything but the face. What’s interesting is that once the face disappears, so too does the person, and people start to pretend to be things they are not, and all pretence at manners disappears.
I’m now mid 40s. A lot of men I’ve fancied over the years have hit their prime in that age group – George Clooney, Pierce Brosnan, Josh Holloway, Antonio Banderas – but in Lincolnshire it seems the equivalent is to shave your head like Grant Mitchell and look like a serial killer on his day off.
In those 20-ish months, I’ve thought of rejoining the dating game. And it took me a while to realise – actually, maybe it’s not a relationship I want, maybe it’s just COMPANY. Do I want your angst and baggage, no. Do I want to focus endlessly on you, especially if you are a dull-as-fuck whingebag? Hell, no. Do I want some damn fine kissing, Olympic-level spooning and occasional itch-scratching? Well actually, yeah.
It was late and I was bored, so last night I decided to sign up to Match.com to see if I could find my future best friend and one man to treat me right. Turns out Match.com is raaaaather expensive, so this afternoon, whilst looking at alternatives, I happened upon Zoosk. Zoosk…