Archive for the ‘Funny Stuff’ Category

It’s not so easy to discern the genuine article from a lie online, those looking for a shag and those looking for a wife. Profiles can sound similar. Sporty male looking for adventurous girl. How do I know? Well, I tried it. A friend persuaded me to join up. Match.com promised the highest matchmaking results and said they would help me find my one true love. He had some recent success and four couples in his group had met online. One couple swore their undying love and would soon marry. How bad could it be? There used to be a stigma attached. This appeared to no longer exist. How was I not aware that everyone was online dating? I soon found out.

After signing up and getting overly excited at the prospect of browsing some hunky profiles, I realised I would also have to send a wink or an email to let the person know I was interested. It was hard to figure out. A person can look good online but not match up in reality. I decided not to lie about my age and uploaded an up-to-date smiley faced photo. A male friend on match told me to say I was two years younger. His theory was that a woman over 30 would be winked at or emailed less. “Why?” I asked. “Because you want to have babies” he said. No, I don’t. I really don’t. Not right now. Apparently it doesn’t matter. Men my age would search for a woman aged 20 – 30. I would be put in this ‘32 year old wants babies’ box. I quickly changed my profile to read ‘a young 32’.

I got some hits. Winks and emails followed. I felt quite high and did my own search. A few winks and emails were sent. Musicguy told me he was looking for a dirty girl. I told him I washed on a daily basis. He decided I was too clean for him. Taxi96 sounded promising when he threw in some Dylan Moran quotes. I had mentioned on my profile that he was my favourite comedian. He seemed interested but must have changed his mind as I never heard from him again. Was it something I typed? I pondered this as I laughed my head off at the Dylan Moran quotes. This happened frequently. As if buoyed by an ego boost of flirting, some are too afraid to take the next step. kidcoop told me he was taking baby steps and loved the banter but had not worked up the courage to meet someone for a drink. It appeared there were a lot of people online looking but not actually meeting up in person.

Online Dating Horror Stories

Another friend suggested speed dating next. I thought why not. In person, there are cues. Body language, speech and that secret ingredient chemistry all have a part to play in attraction. With online dating, you are guessing. Off we went to a paid speed dating event. It started out well. There were lots of candle lit booths with a number at each table. I was number 13. I sat down and tried not to think about it. With four minutes to ask lots of questions and figure out if you would like to meet this person again, the pressure was on. I fired so many questions at one guy that he forgot to ask me a single one. Guess he didn’t have much to go on when he was ticking those boxes. I decided to take it down a notch. One guy moaned about the fact that the women didn’t have to change seats. Another guy told me he quit his banking job because he had to teach his £100k a year boss how to cut and paste. I felt like telling him, as an Irish person, we know how stupid bankers are.

The event was fun and relaxed. We made new friends. The outcome was a meal and drinks with our new found speed dating friends. Speed dating now showed promise above and beyond what online had to offer. It was so much better in person. I told everyone to sign up. The boxes were ticked and the day arrived to all meet up. One girl didn’t show up. Two guys and two girls left. One guy left halfway during the night to go to a ceilidh. Or so we believed. I found out later from guy left behind that his friend was not what he appeared to be. He had just broken up with his wife and was looking for sex only. Ceilidh was code for meeting up with a potential shag. We both drowned our sorrows and called all men bastards in the process. Last guy left without a number.

The next speed dating event was free. First guy to approach for a chat before it all kicked off was a homeless, drug taking khat guy from Inverness. His friend, also staying in the Salvation Army, came from Somalia. I hoped they wouldn’t be in my group. Not due to their situation but due to the fact that they would pause for a few minutes mid-conversation and then speak again. I got another drink and a friend to rescue us. Turned out, I wasn’t so lucky. Inverness guy was in my speed dating group. Sitting opposite me, I was given a question by the organiser. To break the ice. I felt like telling her the ice was well and truly broken. The question was “Do you like to kiss with a peck on the lips or French kiss?” I asked. He responded by leaning in and reaching his hands to cup my face and said “Why don’t you find out?” I declined. He turned his face to the side and ignored me. I decided that I didn’t have to look at the side of his face for four minutes and went to the loo. He walked out.

Speed Dating Hell

I didn’t go back for more. The girls seemed so much hotter than the guys. I couldn’t figure it out. This was my experience and the cynical part in me says try both but leave if it doesn’t work for you. It doesn’t work for everyone. You need to have patience, a good filter and a wing person to back you up. There were some nice guys. One of the speed daters sent me a letter saying he had ticked my box but I didn’t fancy him. You have to meet a lot of guys to filter out the right one for you. In the end, I picked up the courage to ask a guy I fancied in a pub for his number. He gave it to me. We met up. He texted. We went on another date. The old fashioned way. To be continued…

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When I got back from travelling, I decided to join Weight Watchers to try and shift some of the travel pounds. My uncle had lost an amazing two stone in the time I had gone, thanks to his discipline at following the fat fighting programme. His svelte figure had appeared in just nine months. Amazing. So, off I went and persuaded one of my friends to go with me. We went to our first meeting together. It was a bit daunting getting up on a weighing scales in front of a room full of people. I started to peel off the layers as I walked towards it. There are many ploys to work around things. In other words, CHEAT. I put my ear to the ground and found out the tips. Don’t eat on the day of the WEIGH IN so you are as light as possible. Wear the same thing and if you are gonna stuff your face at any time during the week, do it the night of the weigh in. On hearing this, my friend and I decided to go for a bag of chips. We were starving. I hadn’t eaten a big dirty bag of Salt n’ Vinegar Irish chips in nine months. My head screamed inside “You deserve them, EAT THEM!” It felt like a covert operation as we did not want to be spotted by our leader or any fellow fat fighters… This was not looking good but I felt I had to follow the tips from the more experienced fat fightee’s.  A perverse type of logic but it worked. I have never tasted chips so good. They tasted illegal. Then, I checked the points. 27. Shit. We had gone over our daily allowance by 3 points. We would have to be really good for the rest of the week. I did try.

Only 2 Points of Chocolaty Goodness

We went to the next meeting. I stripped a little bit more and looked like I was going on holidays. I looked up expectantly at my cheery, positive and chatty fat fighting leader. Hoping against hope the bag of chips could be banished from my mind and my waist. Then, she stated, “You weigh the same.” Aha, I thought, that is why I am here. To lose nothing, nothing except my DIGNITY. AGGGHHHHHHHHHHH. I sat down beside my cousin who laughed and told me that was nothing, some people put on two pounds in their first week. Oh, what a fat fighting virgin I was. We bought a box of weight watcher chocolate bars (extortionately priced) and began stuffing our faces. Oh the irony… It was after weigh in after all. I tried a bit more. Sorta. I think I was rebelling against being told what to eat so I wanted to eat EVERYTHING. Needless to say, it didn’t work for me but of course, it does work for some. For me, each meeting felt like a meeting with my parole officer and having to admit what wrong thing you had eaten. It was depressing. You couldn’t look anyone in the eye and there were furtive glances to see if anyone had a stash of anything edible they were willing to share. I decided I didn’t have what it takes. Discipline, control and consistency. My uncle’s success is amazing and fair play to him for having those qualities and succeeding. He no longer has to pay to attend meetings. One can’t help but wonder what other factors played their part. He told me a hilarious story where one evening, sitting down to dinner, he reached across the table to help himself to another spud and my lovely aunt questioned him slowly “Are you sure you should be having another?”. He gave her but one glance as if to say “Really, after 35 years, I am now at my ideal weight and you’re still nagging me”. Instead, he said “Feck off”.