Gareth
Every girl has a list. My list grows and shrinks according to how I’m feeling about myself at the time. On a good day, my list looks like this:
Decent job (earns more money than me)
Between 30 – 40 years old
Car (fully working, not older than me)
At least 6ft tall
Wider than me (so that I feel skinny)
Lives alone (ie: not with parents)
My sense of humour (sarcastic)
Can cope with my loud, assertive, ‘unique’ personality
Intelligent
Educated (not the same as intelligent)
Well travelled
Not into fad diets, clean eating, etc
Eats a variety of foods (doesn’t consider pasta as ‘foreign’ food or freak out if a vegetable lands on his plate)
Has opinions on things, but not opinionated
Good with children
Excellent kisser (this should probably be much nearer the top of the list)
Into running/swimming/cycling/squash
Non-smoker
Reader
But when I’m feeling really crap (aka desperate), I have a much shorter list to go by:
Decent job (earns more money than me)
Between 30 25 – 40 45 years old
Car (fully working, no rust buckets)
At least 6ft 5ft 10ins tall
Wider than me (so that I feel skinny)
Lives alone
My sense of humour (sarcastic)
Can cope with my loud, assertive, ‘unique’ personality
Intelligent
Educated (not the same as intelligent)
Well travelled
Not into fad diets, clean eating, etc
Eats a variety of foods (doesn’t consider pasta as ‘foreign’ food or freak out if a vegetable lands on his plate)
Has opinions on things, but not opinionated
Good with children
Excellent Acceptable kisser (this should probably be much nearer the top of the list)
Into running/swimming/cycling/squash
Non smoker Trying to quit
Reader
Following yesterday’s experience, I’m thinking I may need to lower the bar somewhat. Someone with an intellect greater than a five year old’s would be a start. We can work on the sense of humour and kissing ability later. I reach for the vino again (to ensure consistency in my online chat). But then I get a message from Gareth. Gareth is good looking, 5ft 10ins and a journalist. He’s the right age and begins our chat with a very sensible[1] , ‘Hi, how are you?’
So I’m thinking that things are suddenly looking a lot rosier. This is much more what I had in mind. I’ll just have to not wear heels….ever again. We message back and forth for a bit and it turns out that he has frequented school often enough to have worked out how to use basic punctuation and the difference between ‘to, two and too’. This could actually be a go-er! The chat turns to being lonely and wanting to have someone to cuddle up to on the sofa. Gareth replies with:
‘And spooning, cheeky girl! I bet you love spooning!’
Once again, I’m a tad surprised by this line, although at least he has used actual, real-life words for me to reply to. Is this guy just after sex? He could be, which is annoying, even though we have been chatting sensibly all night. Why would he think I loved spooning anyway? As it happens, I quite like spooning, but that is not the point here – in no way did I suggest such a thing in any message I sent. I scroll back, just to be sure, in case I’ve inadvertently suggested something. There’s no hint of anything promiscuous at all. He’s just trying his luck then, I guess. I hadn’t planned on sexting[2] people – is that the done thing? I definitely don’t want him thinking I’m easy – I must remember to play hard to get, pretend I’m really offended or something so that he thinks I’m a good girl. Men like a good girl, or at least they appear to respect them anyway. As I’m looking for some sort of relationship rather than a ONS[3], I respond with:
‘Woaw, calm down! I was only talking about cuddles! Any chance we can keep the sex talk for another time?’
I hit send. Not sure how he will take that, but I was definitely aiming for ‘it’s ok but just calm it for now thanks’. Hopefully this will do the trick. I duly wait for his response. I wait some more. Perhaps he went to bed… The hours tick by and still not a peep from him. Oh God, I really hope I haven’t messed this one up! Then again, why the heck did he start talking about spooning anyway?? He was clearly just someone looking for a bit of fun, which is fine, but that’s not me right now. I must move on. Forget about him. I begin looking back at the visits my profile has received today. They are mostly from men in their late forties and early fifties. They look much older than me, have wrinkles and grey hair. There is nothing that I find remotely attractive about these men, although I’m sure they would be sexy as hell for a woman ten years my senior. Still nothing from Gareth. Maybe I’ll just give him a chance to reply tomorrow. He’ll reply tomorrow. Something just came up. Probably. People can’t spend their lives constantly starring at their phone anyway. I don’t want someone that does that. Far too boring. It’ll be fine.
I wake up the next morning to find no hint of contact from Gareth. I re-read our messages for the umpteenth time, and find myself questioning my own response. Gareth’s comments don’t sound very offensive at all and I’m wondering if perhaps I am in the wrong rather than him. I am very good at feeling guilty, particularly when there is nothing to really feel guilty about. Guilt gnaws away at my mind over the most minute of things, refusing to leave me in peace until I have righted the wrongs. This is a good example of that. I spend the morning feeling bad for having drunk a bit more than I thought and possibly mis-interpreting his message. I decide to reply for the second time, but this time I explain my drunkness and general stupidity to Gareth, apologising profusely:
‘Hi Gareth, I have just re-read your last message and my response last night. I wanted to let you know that I’m really sorry for over-reacting – you weren’t saying anything wrong and I don’t actually know why I replied with what I did. I think I totally misunderstood what you had written and I’m sorry about that. I must have read it really quickly without thinking or something. I had a few glasses of wine last night too. My bad. Hope you have a good day at work.’
I wait all day for a response, but get nothing back from Gareth. At least I don’t feel guilty now though. Damn shame – I am such an idiot sometimes! He was pretty normal and seemed nice, although ideally he’d be a bit taller. Maybe he’ll reply in a few days. Some people like to let you stew for a bit first – maybe he’s one of them. I’ve been really nice and tried to fix things. If he can’t see that I’m a decent human being, then that’s his loss.
He’s really not going to get in contact again is he? Damn it.
[1] Ok, so I know I just said that ‘Choo-choo’ guy’s identical opening line was uninspiring, but as I said, we are seriously lowering expectations now
[2] Sexting means sending or receiving ‘sexually explicit’ messages (I am proud to report that I knew this word in advance of my quest for love in a digital world).
[3] ONS – One Night Stand. My enduring appreciation and thanks go to ‘Urban Dictionary’ - you have saved me from certain peril more times than I care to remember!
