Plenty of Fish or Plenty of Fools?

I have a feeling my drunken foray in to internet dating again is going to provide some brilliant material for you lovely people. Because the whole point in me going through this is just to entertain you lot and has nothing to do with the fact I’m terrified of dying alone surrounded by cats.

So Saturday night a male friend and I put the world to rights over far too much wine (me) and far too much beer (him). In the wee small hours of Sunday morning after me ranting at an eHarmony advert and him sulking that he’s been single for far longer than is healthy for a man with needs we decide to window shop on Mysinglefriend. But the problem with Mysinglefriend is the cost. No decision made at 2am should involve a credit card. So we decided PlentyofFish was a MUCH better idea.

Which brought on the challenge.

In 24 hours, who could get the most messages? Only first messages counted and they had to be from the person directly and not in reply to a message from you.

Within an hour I had received about 40 messages to his one. It seems there are a lot of people on POF in the early hours of the morning. Not all as drunk as I was.

With in an hour I have been called a slag for declining someone’s offer of sex by correcting all the spelling and punctuation mistakes in the proposal, ranted at a grown man for using ‘LOL’ 5 times in one message, informed a guy that asked ‘have you ever had a black man’ that I like my men like my coffee and he might be black but he isn’t hot or strong and generally offended a lot of people in a short space of time.

Male friend still had no messages but was crying with laughter at my replies. So at least it cheered him up eh?

It’s now been 4 days, I have deleted over 150 notifications from Hotmail (and worked out to stop the emails telling me I have messages) and am actually in contact with 4 men. But really it’s all about the blog isn’t it?

So things that have entertained me so far:

•    Far too many men think that standing in their bathroom with their phone in front of them is decent photography.

•    The pigeon-chested and the meat heads out there don’t wear shirts.

•    “Hi xx” is by far the most popular message to send.

•    If you don’t get a reply, just keep sending more and more inane messages because that doesn’t make you sound like you’re having a conversation with yourself at all.

•    Punctuation is for losers.

•    95% of men on POF are short.

•    Asking a girl for sex at 1pm on a Wednesday afternoon is not weird.

•    A guy will take you to the Ritz if he gets to eat your pussy – he’s not referring to my future cat there is he?!

So who wants to take bets on how long I last on here until I start to think that getting a cat really IS preferable. We’ll see after next Friday I guess… I have actually agreed to meet someone from this site for a drink. So far so good…


The Mind Reader

We first met The Mind Reader on the ‘Rain Rain Go AWAY’ blog entry. Brief re-cap; he chats girls up by trying to guess their name. He fails, buys them a drink, gets their number and then moves on to the text. On that particular night his next ‘target’ was The PIC. Partner in Crime she may be but that’s just plain odd.

So, when The Mind Reader subsequently asked me out I told him if he was indeed a mind reader he would know that I was busy for the foreseeable future.

Friday night I heard from him again. He sent something a little bit funny referencing how we met and told me about a party in a bar that coming Sunday that he would be DJ’ing at. Bank Holiday Sunday no less.

I didn’t reply but mentioned the idea to the rest of The Gang and they agreed it was worth a visit.

I spotted The Mind Reader quite early on but decided I really couldn’t be bothered with a conversation when there was plenty of dancing and drinking to be done. Later on he was dancing next to me so I thought it was only a matter of time before he noticed me. He made eye contact, and not a glimmer of recognition passed his face. I found this funny, so as he returned to the DJ booth I text him.

“Thanks for the heads up on the party, having a great time dancing in the courtyard”

From my vantage point I can see him looking around, and again makes eye contact with a blank expression. He then texts to ask me to come to the DJ booth. I ignore the message. After all, I was only 8 foot away.

He sends several messages over the next hour asking where I am, am I still there, to meet him at the bar etc etc.

As we leave I text to tell him I’ve gone.

More texts telling me to wait outside, not to go etc.

I ignore them.

In the cab home he calls me to ask why I didn’t go and find him. So I pointed out that for several chunks of the night he’s been stood near me, even looked right at me and the evidence suggests that he has no idea what I look like. And seeing as he used the same line on several girls in one night when I met him, he’s bound to have clocked up a few more numbers in his phone book since then so it’s understandable. When I received the text about the party I was well aware he’s probably text everyone he’d ever met, but I still would have expected a certain amount of recognition surely?

The next day he continues to text. His average is about 4 texts to one of my replies. Several times he asks if I’m on Facebook. I eventually give in and let him know my surname. Some time later I get a text:

“Haha I know why I didn’t recognise u! U had blonde hair when I first meet u. I saw you on Sunday, I thought u was to hot to come and chat too, true story”

(I have copied this text exactly as written, for so many reasons).

My reply?

“I haven’t been blonde for 8 years. So no, it’s not that”

And the conversation continues:

Him: “Hah it’s ok we don’t need to racial’ise the hair colour! I won’t lie it looks good. So what u at today? Other than playing hard to get”

Him Again: “So how does nice boys like me get to meet nice girls like u again?”

Me: It starts with remembering what people look like! You have sealed your own fate there”

Him: “Haha it does sound bad when u put it like that but I’m so busy when dj’ing… Making sure u have a good time AND u did have a good bank holiday cos of me? Surely that’s worth a second chance?”

Me: “you thought I was BLONDE”

After he sends another 3 messages that all go unreplied to I get:

“Ok ok I can tell ur cross! So it’s not weird you can wear a blonde wig! Jokes! Seriously! I’m probs out this weekend are u? U can be cross at me in person”

Unsurprisingly I will not be meeting him this weekend. Me and my dark brown hair will be at Twickenham. But at least I know this one won’t turn stalker, he’ll probably mistake me for one of my male friends next time we’re out. Means I’m safe though!