2012-07-30 | 11:09 p.m.
I said I wouldn't do this again, but I've cracked. I've dated one person this year and that was January to February and quite frankly I got to the point where I would have been quite happy to go up to men in the street, poke them in the face with a stick and demand to know whether they were single.
Anyway, that's frowned upon so I have, with trepidation, decided to give online dating another go, especially since lovely Jenn is now engaged to be married to her beau next year and they met on My Single Friend.
Online dating is a minefield. I am on a new site to the one I tried three years ago and it's okay, I suppose. I have been on one date and he was nice but not for me (read: we met in person, I instantly didn't fancy him and therefore straight away had not one smidgen of care of trying to appear a lady, we drank beers and then went round his for the sole purpose of smoking a spliff...aaaagh.) Anyway, I was reminded why I hadn't smoked weed since last Glastonbury and it's not something I'm doing again in a hurry.
Onwards with the adventure, I say, except when I get contact requests from people whose profiles contain perilous information such as this. Let's call him Mr X and this is his opening gambit:
"Snuggling with me on a Sunday morning - there is nothing better.
"I am attracted to a women that is happy and can make me laugh,
Maybe I'm too picky!
Work's drying up for the summer, which is okay since I didn't actually realise just how bloody fantastic it would be to have the Olympics on my doorstep. I thought this city would be full of grumbling locals and gridlocked transport but it's not. It's genuinely cheerful and it's great having visitors here seeing London in its splendour.
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