Spam Spam Unfertilised Eggs and Spam
I, like everybody else, ignore spam. I never 'click' on it. I never open it. I certainly never read it. On absolutely no account do I ever reply to it.
So why did I find myself mindlessly following a link to that free dating website that got me started on all this in the first place? It's not free for women any longer but those nice people at www.sadlonelysaladdodgers.com* were offering me guest membership for a few days with the chance to win a holiday to Sicily with one of the other singleton subscribers. Perfect opportunity to holiday with a stranger again.
I hadn't been to the site in months. I'd forgotten what a buzz it was to have hoards of men viewing my profile and sending me a 'tease'. An old acquaintance was online. We chatted to one another on the IM service the site-owners provide. He was still really witty and amusing, and very very complimentary. It was fun. It certainly beat trying to finish Simon Schama's History of Britain.
He'd sent me a message the next day. So had one or two other blokes, but I ignored the ones that came from Morocco, the male**-order equivalent of Russian or Thai brides. I was sufficiently dazzled enough to return the next day, but only for a very short period. There was no way I was going to get drawn into all that banal, superficial chatting with people, at best on the other side of the country, who I would never have any intention of meeting, let alone dating. It had served its purpose. I'd met some really good friends and couldn't imagine it would have anything better to offer.
I turned off the computer and went outside into the weekend sunshine to tend my courgettes and dead-head my baskets. All was well for a few hours.
I can only think it was the sun that got to me in that short space of time. Why else would I find myself less than 24 hours later, happily typing my credit card details into the neat little payment boxes just so I could read the message that some bloke with an interesting loggin name that sugggested he liked The Clash had sent to me. He was local - ish too, with a big wide smile.
If only I'd had the forethought to read the rest of his Profile instead of blindly rushing ahead in typical Taurean fashion. He's another flipping midget. 5'6".
When am I ever going to learn that the chances of a 6'6" international rugby player going by the name of Johnno is not likely to be hanging around a computer on a sunny weekend in the offchance of meeting me?
*this is a fictitious site. I might be stupid but I'm not that stupid that I'd send you all off to see my pathetic profile on a dating site.
** witty pun intended
So why did I find myself mindlessly following a link to that free dating website that got me started on all this in the first place? It's not free for women any longer but those nice people at www.sadlonelysaladdodgers.com* were offering me guest membership for a few days with the chance to win a holiday to Sicily with one of the other singleton subscribers. Perfect opportunity to holiday with a stranger again.
I hadn't been to the site in months. I'd forgotten what a buzz it was to have hoards of men viewing my profile and sending me a 'tease'. An old acquaintance was online. We chatted to one another on the IM service the site-owners provide. He was still really witty and amusing, and very very complimentary. It was fun. It certainly beat trying to finish Simon Schama's History of Britain.
He'd sent me a message the next day. So had one or two other blokes, but I ignored the ones that came from Morocco, the male**-order equivalent of Russian or Thai brides. I was sufficiently dazzled enough to return the next day, but only for a very short period. There was no way I was going to get drawn into all that banal, superficial chatting with people, at best on the other side of the country, who I would never have any intention of meeting, let alone dating. It had served its purpose. I'd met some really good friends and couldn't imagine it would have anything better to offer.
I turned off the computer and went outside into the weekend sunshine to tend my courgettes and dead-head my baskets. All was well for a few hours.
I can only think it was the sun that got to me in that short space of time. Why else would I find myself less than 24 hours later, happily typing my credit card details into the neat little payment boxes just so I could read the message that some bloke with an interesting loggin name that sugggested he liked The Clash had sent to me. He was local - ish too, with a big wide smile.
If only I'd had the forethought to read the rest of his Profile instead of blindly rushing ahead in typical Taurean fashion. He's another flipping midget. 5'6".
When am I ever going to learn that the chances of a 6'6" international rugby player going by the name of Johnno is not likely to be hanging around a computer on a sunny weekend in the offchance of meeting me?
*this is a fictitious site. I might be stupid but I'm not that stupid that I'd send you all off to see my pathetic profile on a dating site.
** witty pun intended
posted by Cherrypie at 5:45 pm
24 Comments:
Cherry, I've told you before, don't be so bloody fussy. He might be 5'6" of really good bloke.
SUPER Funny, Cherry!!!
Sometimes, ya just gots to do what ya've gots to do.
It's great to put your profile up on one of these sites and see what kinda fish you can catch...
...And then which ones, once you get 'em on your hook (or they get you on their hook), which ones you throw back.
I've done it too, have had my share of disasters, but have also met some nice women.
So no, you're not gonna find a 6-foot-6 rugby player. But why would you want one?
The way those guys play, their brains are jarred around constantly and they've been hit in the gonads so much...
Wouldn't a bowler in cricket or even a footballer be more cultured and less of damaged goods?
Cherry,
Tommy and WW have a good point, height is not everything. My sister is just like you, she won't date any man that is shorter than 5'11". Come to think of it she calls them midgets too.
However, I'm sure it's a challenge to find a guy that meets your superior intellectual and spiritual needs. But like I say: Some day my frog will come...
Tom - I know you're right. I've been chatting to him most of the evening and he does seem really quite lovely.
WW - it's not their brains that interest me!!!
Carmentza - it's not that I have anything against short men, bless their little legs. I just seem to attract nothing but the stumpy little creatures. I'm quite short myself, provoking one friend to comment that people wouldn't think we were midgets, they'd just think we were standing a long way off!
Keep your eyes off, Mark, ok. He's my frog now x
Ah, gotcha!!! Sorry, I'd never want to come between a woman and her "it's not their brains I want."
Just remember my comment about their gonads...how about a dart player?
www.plentyoffish.com
completely free, for both ends!
Listen you silly Cherry ... I am almost 5feet 9inches & 2 of the best guys I ever dated were not at tall as I. What I am saying is that some of the best guys measure up in different ways. ; )
Give him a chance!
Big smooch,
The Tart
Ha ha ha..unfortunately my dear this is the Height of Heightism!
Your followers are much too sophisticated to believe that a woman of your social standing is serious about this 6'6" tomfoolery!
My word how those tall buggers will put your toes to sleep in the sack..they have no skills beyond discussing their height
.."Why yes I was 6'4" in grade 3 actually".bleh! snore...It's as silly as saying that only girls with gigantic knockers know how to please a man
(a deafening uncomfortable silence followed by..)
Tall buggers never have to try hard at anything and completely rely on the urban myths supplied by silly schoolgirls and old wives tales about how long their 'members of Parliament' have been in orifice..what utter rubbish.
Because of these old wives tales we normals (ie. 5'9") feverishly work at being incomparable lovers, intelligent, funny, charming, witty, well mannered and thoughtful companions because we have to compete with all of this OOOh he's so tall crapola..bleh! bleh!
Would you like a real man who has all of the above qualities or one that is tall?
I am sorry but you cannot have it both ways.
Hey! What do you mean you're short but won't settle for the midgets? (Is this where I get to bitch-slap you? :) I'm super tall and you have to leave the tall ones for me for god's sake, particuarly because I'm older than you and deserve a little *respect*. And if you find that 6'6" rugby player you can have my husband if you'll give him me :) (I learned that last turn-of-phrase from my Mancunian buddy.)
Perhaps CP is concerned by what my female colleagues have referred to as SMS or Small Man Syndrome.
Homo Esc this is not related to the size of there MP but to the fact that small/short blokes tend to be irritatingly LOUD! Apparently us tall blokes tend to be quieter. I'm 6ft 2ish unfortunately that's around the stomach as well *SIGH*
WW - okay, if it's a choice between a short bloke and a dart player, then I'll go for the vertically challenged.
CeCe - I'll check that out. Is that where you met Armondo? Definitely worth a go if it is.
You're right, Tart. He's still got 4 inches on me. I'll just have to remember to wear flat shoes.
HE - a very convincing argument. Can I just have you instead, please? I'm sure your darling wife won't mind.
Andrea - ok. I was already in awe of you before I found out you are a giantess. Respect due x
lol - Pete, at last someone on my side. Who'd have thought there'd be such sympathy for dwarves?
rrffnec - condition suffered by short, dumpy women with tall lovers
On-line dating sounds scary to me, but you are made of sterner stuff than I. Actually, I hated dating, preferring to marry in haste, with mixed results. 5'6" is pretty short, but he might be otherwise fabulous enough to make up for the height deficiency. You would have a good reason to wear flat shoes, which are much easier on the toes anyway,
Huh. I come in here after a hard day's work at the coalface, only to discover myself reduced to the level of tame frog. AND rejected in favour of some five-five midget rugby player.
Pout. I'm thinking of offering myself as a pet frog to the first loving lady who cares to take charge of me. Carmy seems nice - perhaps she'll give me a little swimming hole to play in.
Ribbett ribbett pout ribbett.
There's that pout again, Mark. I can't resist it!
I'm curious - where exactly is the cut-off point for midgets? Is it exactly 5'6"? I've always (well okay, since reading the penultimate paragraph at any rate) wondered.
Kyky, I don't think there is a maximum height restriction any longer. They abolished it at the same time as the one that stopped me getting in the police force (phew!)
I've just remembered that I had a huge crush on Dudley Moore and Davy Jones. So I'm not completely heightist.
Cherry,
"Keep your eyes off, Mark, ok. He's my frog now x"
You talkin' to me? YOU talkin' to ME?
Ok if you two are an item and he's swimming in your pond, I'm outta there!
But tell him to stop "ribbiting" at me.
So Cherry, no more bollocks about height ok. And neither is all about how good we are in the sack, obviously that is important, but also nice blokes are scarce, so when you find one go for it. God, it's not beyond you to change a few things here and there where you can, but you can't change 'height'.
I'm all caught up in this thing about you getting a man now. What am I like.
Cherry, I've now posted those HE pix on Flickr. Or would you rather I email them to you instead?
..this is from Jane Moore a pantheon of feminism and journo on one of the UK's foremost daily tabloids (I'll leave you to guess which)
JERRY HALL has drawn up her five point guide to finding her perfect man.
He must be
aged between 40 and 50, independently wealthy, entertaining,
preferably American
and most of importantly treat her "like a princess".
Jerry, of course, is a former supermodel who has maintained her stunning good looks and slim physique.
For the rest of you, the five point guide to the perfect man looks something like this.....
1) Preferably breathing
2) Can pay his own bus fare
3) Have own teeth
4) Be able to tell joke other than "what did the big chimney say to the little chimney?"
5) .....and er, that's it.
Ciao
Ribbett.
Please let me know who's frog I am. I'm confused now.
(Sad and lonely ribbett in the distance)
This was delightful. I love hearing dating stories and I think more and more people are going to meet and find a good match online. You can talk about all kinds of things to get relaxed and it's not only superficial...although i think a little chemistry is important.
Look forward to hearing more accounts of flirting at your online date service.
cheers,
Candy
http://gnosticminx.blogspot.com/
Tom - I need all the help I can get! even if it's only valid in blogsville
Carmy - we could arm wrestle. But I think those mojitos at your Happy Hour sound a much better idea.
WW - can you email the ones you couldn't post? :)
Methusalah - your sagacity and wit is most gratefully appreciated. I'll be over to you as soon as I can
Pie - Knock Knock
Mark - you'll always be my handsome prince deep down
Candy - thank you for looking in and being so kind. I will be round to yours shortly x
Cherry, I'm so pleased someone understands me. I read what you dais about the holiday thing. I can't believe you took him back after that!
Ms. Pie, Let's have the mojitos and mud wrestle for Markie. I'm much taller than you so I'll drink two more mojitos to give you a chance. ok?
"Ribbit," Markie!
hgcuujp - An involuntary contraction of the diaphragm, usually starts after downing two or three mojitos.
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