Sunday, 5 May 2013


This is me... well a variation of me in an alternative universe where I can get my laptop that close and there is no two ten pound children belly in the way... trawling through the too many to count messages I receive daily from the couple of internet dating sites I am registered with.

I am becoming more and more disheartened with these sites. Not because they don't work, hell, I met the man who would be my soul mate for thirteen years, until he decided his soul should spread it's wings.

I'm not saying there aren't wonderful men out there to be met, I'm just a little concerned about the amount of frogs you have to trawl through to find your Prince. For instance...

While I'm not that bothered about looks, I like to think I'm a little less shallow than that (especially when I'm not exactly Jennifer Lawrence - I had to update that from Meg Ryan so I don't show my age), but aren't we all secretly hoping the guy on the other end of the email looks like him (see right)?

I don't mind if you don't want to meet me because I'm not your type, we have nothing in common, I'm not Jennifer Lawrence etc, but to find your interesting waning because of my chosen profession? I kind of take offence to that.

Take, lets call him Bob, who I'd been chatting to for a couple of weeks. We seemed to have quite a bit in common, he only lived a couple of miles away, worked in traffic control (a grown up job) and didn't mind kids, having some of his own, albeit grown up. I'd decided to look for a slightly more mature man for a change in the hope of finding someone a bit more grounded and less likely to have the need to be attached at the hip, and at six years older than me, he seemed to fit the bill - or Bob.

Anyhoo, during one of our conversations he'd asked me what type of literature I wrote. I replied, gay erotic romance. His response was, "Well that's pissed on my chips." I was confused and was then outraged when he explained... "I could see myself having a relationship with a writer, but not sure I could have one with a writer who has gay images going through her head twenty-four hours a day. Unless of course you wanted anal."

First of all, I don't have gay images going through my head twenty-four hours a day - I sleep for at least five for God's sake! I also object to the assumption that;

1. Because I write gay romance, I would want him to be gay.


2. That during more intimate moments, I would be thinking about two men having sex. (I'd be more likely to be thinking about Jensen Ackles, but didn't think it was the appropriate time to point that out).

I informed him, politely of course, that I am a straight woman and have no aspirations to be a gay man (don't have the right equipment) or be in a relationship with a gay man. That I am not ashamed of what I do, that I'm actually not that bad at it and it makes me enough money to pay the bills and treat my kids. I did point out that contrary to his concerns, I don't think about gay men all day. I sit down to work, do what I have to do and then at the end of my working day I put my mummy hat on and don't put my work hat on again until the following day.
That I would like to think that when we were making love he wasn't thinking about directing traffic and that I would hope he would be thinking about me - as I would be thinking about him. Oh,  and I also indicated, maybe a little less politely, that there is one of these (see left) on my arse!

I guess age really is just a number and it amazed me to see the differing mindset those few short years between us had.

*sigh* I shall, however, keep plugging away and am actually talking to a really nice guy at the moment (but then they're all nice - sorry the cynic in me rises to the surface) who likes old movies, Dr Who and has tried to out-dweeb me on several occasions and failed dismally. Will we meet? I don't know... guess we'll just have to wait and see if he turns out to be another frog... or the elusive Prince.


  1. Great post, Lisa!

    I have a very dear friend who met a wonderful man through an online dating service. They have been together two years now. Her story is not so dissimilar to yours as far as the frogs. She was ready to give in after one too many of them, but decided to try it for a few more months. Best decision she made. She's a few years older than me and her "beau" (as we friends lovingly call him, or "The Doctor" - PhD, not MD) is a year or two older than her. They make a wonderful couple and are very happy together. He wants her to move in with him now. Her youngest child has one more year of college and I think as soon as he graduates, she will be renting out her house and moving in with the Doctor.

    Hang in there. You'll find your prince when you least expect it.


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