So how did you meet ?
This is a question asked by thousands of hopeful single women looking for the answer to their own desperate dating situation. Ok less desperate and more barren wasteland of wastemen and missed opportunities. You get my drift. I ask because I seriously hope I’m missing a trick and they’ll tell me what it is.
I’ve noticed that we ask because we think that these women suddenly hold the secret to finding a decent dude in London. They don’t. They really just got lucky according to them and if there is a cellar somewhere where these decent dudes exist they’re not telling anyone where it is. Quit asking! We have become that terrible football team where everyone runs to where the ball is. Yes, we are playing dating like 8 year olds playing football. Or Reading.
How did you meet is like asking a previously fat person how they lost weight. Either they severely limited their food, increased their exercise or had surgery. Oh were sick. That’s it. There are no other solutions. We ask how they did it and when they give you some bullshit about cutting out carbs after 6pm we all know they’re lying but they don’t want to tell you how they did it. They don’t want you to know how fucking much they miss chocolate and how they hate those early morning runs but they’re doing it because they want to be slim more than they want anything else in their lives including decent breath. We get it. Your metabolism is fast. YAWN!
A good friend of mine met a really lovely guy on Tinder. So I went on. I met dubious men who clearly just pressed yes for anyone as there wasn’t a photo of me on there. How did I get so many matches when I was ever so carefully looking for signs of wasteman-ness in each and every profile? So not tinder then.
Another met her man through Church. My cousin suggested that I fake it but, that would be lying to God and S/he’d know. NEXT!
Another through plenty of freaks. I can’t even pretend that I was hopeful that this time would be different as I’ve been on at least 4 different times but, I can’t with the ‘some college’ and guys winking or whatever. Most are looking for a sponsor to say in this country. I’m not going through a fake Wood Green civic centre wedding. I’m just not. I’m just unlucky enough to get arrested for fraud.
Another met at a professional event. Ooooh now that could work. But wait, I organise events and I’m still not meeting anyone through them. Is being an organiser unlucky?
Another met at school. I look through my year book and yes, some of those girls were a little butch but something tells me that as it was a girls’ school they are not likely to be options for my hetrosexual wants. I wasn’t lucky enough to go to mixed schools. I went to 3 girls’ schools!
Others met through work. I work in one of the most female concentrated industries around. The men are usually few and taken. Or they’re married. Or they’re old people, retired and shouting because they’ve lost their key again. Or they’ve got mental health problems. Social care so is a battlefield.
Another met through friends. Er, I’m happy to hook up friends and do so willingly. I await the friend that does the same for me.
And so my story hasn’t ended yet or even begun. But I wish people would stop asking others how they met then assuming that they too might be that LUCKY! You’re not. They sold their soul to the devil or something. They just won’t tell us.
My advice? Just keep doing everything really badly and hope that you meet someone who pities you enough to hug you and tell you to stop. Or let’s just keep going out there, meeting people and hoping against hope that all of those Hollywood movies of klutzy girls with jobs and mad families meeting men with jobs and no baggage are based on real life.
Here’s to wishing us all some dating luck!
© Chelsea Black