Online Dating.

Two of my favourite things are reading personals and mocking people. If I get the paper, I always dash to the adds at the back to see which lonely chap with a GSOH is seeking a trans woman for fun times. I persuaded (made) my old housemate start internet dating; this was only 12% because I wanted his romantic life to be prosperous and exciting for him, but 88% because I wanted to write his profile for him and scour the place for suitable laydeez.

Voyeuristic to the core, I’m really interested in how people project themselves online. I think it takes a lot of skill not to sound retarded or mental. The lucky few come out of the profile writing process by sounding well-balanced and interesting but the rest you have to choose from are the painfully generic types who “like going out or staying in, music, films, hobbies of all sorts” or the overly pushy but probably really insecure types that “don’t want to hear from overweight people, please have a university degree, I vote LibDem and so must you. Also, if you’ve had more than 3 sexual partners I will think you’re SKANKY WHORE so please don’t write to me SLUT.”

As it happens, I only have eyes for my handsome boyfriend (hi, my lobster!) and all of my friends seem to be busy getting married or squeezing out humans, so I’ve no need to scour the personals like a lonely Jennifer Anniston crying into a mug of vodka for anybody. Occasionally, personals just seem to fall into my lap by way of being advertised or routinely laughed at on blogs I read. See here.  This Julian Assange dating profile is also quite interesting (ooh! Topical! And regardless of how much I support him at the moment, HOLY HELL, he sounds like a plank.”) ALSO THIS. YOU HAVE TO READ THIS. Definitely followed by this.

So, yeah, sometimes people don’t stand out as completely stable and that’s what I love. I don’t hate on anybody whatsoever who actively seeks love on the internet because it can work. Meeting somebody on the internet leads to one of four things; a terrible dinner date that’s cut short by a fake emergency, mediocre sex, falling hopelessly and deeply in love or getting murdered. Life’s all about taking chances. Having said that, I will totally laugh in the virtual face of profiles that make me cringe, but then one lady’s trash is another’s wank material. Swings and roundabouts.

While I’m waiting for my friend to come over and make me feel less like I’m about to die of whatever it is I’ve picked up on the mean streets of South London (not HIV), let’s meet someone.

Do You Remember Jamiroquai?

I’d almost forgot about him too! Almost.

Do you remember when he used to bang Denise Van Outen? Now she has a baby with a curly-haired mess and Jamiroquai is… What is he up to?

Advertising Cup Noodles in Japan! Oh, those Japanese.

From the translation I stumbled across, the minty-looking git has been dubbed to appear like he’s singing “I am hungry, I am hungry, I like Cup Noodle, I don’t need other one” which is just too marvellous for words.

War of Words.

A young gentleman asked me to suck his dick today. I was flabbergasted; a 1950s courtship that was not. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything particularly scathing to say back to him so all that came out of my mouth was a “UUHHH GOD. EWWW NO” to which him and his friend responded with maniacal laughter.

It wasn’t until I was home safe that I remembered the best comeback I’ve ever encountered. A teenage boy once shouted the following at me when I wouldn’t go into the off-licence with all his spare change and buy him a couple litres of Blackthorn (oh, to be young again) and it knocked anything I ever heard before out of the water.

It is just pure win for the simplicity. It was directed as an insult, without actually being an insult. It momentarily confused me and then made me giggle. In short, it was nothing short of genius. It went a little something like this:

Hi. Can you go in the shop and get me some cider please?
What? No! How old are you, you little scamp?
Go on, I’ve got the money.
Where is your mother?
Fuckin’ ‘ell, I just want some cider. Can you get me some?
Goodness gracious, child, you should be at home watching Bernard’s Watch.
What?
Just no!
FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH.
Oh, that’s just not nice.
SHUT THE FUCK UP. HA HA HA. YOUR MUM SUCKS YOUR DAD’S COCK. HA HA HA.

There it is, in all its splendour. My mother. Sucks the cock of my father.

And off he rode, into the night, full of pride with his victory as I’m left scratching my head wondering if that really was an insult. I was so confused.

OH MY GOSH. He just said MY MOTHER sucks MY DAD. Oh, ewwwwwwwwwww. Oh. Wait. Hang on. That’s probably true, right? Was that an insult? I don’t know. What just happened? What day is it? What’s my name?


Next time I’m strolling around the hood and come by a rap battle, I MUST break this out.