The Twitter Date (Part 1)

This is a story about how Lucy got asked on a date via Twitter.

Wait... you mean Tinder, right?

Actually, no.  Not Tinder.  Twitter.  Here's how it happened...

Lucy has only recently joined this popular social media platform, and she doesn't really understand it. Currently she has about 130 followers - which doesn't seem like very many.  Lucy wants more.  Having hundreds of followers will make her feel loved and popular - even if she doesn't know any of these people and at least half of them may be robots.

So Lucy is looking at Twitter to see if there is anyone interesting on there whom she can tweet at in the hope that they will follow her.  She spots a chat between Tinder Girl and a guy called Al.

In his profile picture, Al is clearly sporting a large and bushy beard.

Personally Lucy has no idea how anyone could love a beard, and reckons the girls who say they do are only pretending because they like the man underneath and they're hoping that in time they can persuade him to shave it off.

Lucy doesn't have nearly enough patience for that sort of thing.  She hates beards.  More than she hates wet dogs, slow walkers, and unexpected items in the bagging area.

As far as she's concerned, the current obsession men have with growing haystacks on their faces is hideous and obscene and ought to be made illegal.  It's hard enough for a girl to meet a nice man as it is, without two thirds of them immediately ruining themselves by hiding their perfectly decent faces behind an impenetrable thatch of wiry fluff.

The worst is when attractive young guys, with slim figures and well-groomed hair, entirely destroy their features with the addition of a foot-long matted rug that wouldn't look out of place on a desert island castaway.

As far as she's concerned, the only people who should legitimately be allowed to own any kind of facial hair are lumberjacks, old testament prophets, 18th-century scholars, and Arctic explorers.  For anyone who has access to clean water and a razor, there is simply no excuse.

Yes, Lucy hates beards.   So she joins in the conversation.

And swiftly, she gets a response from Al.

Lucy looks at the pre-beard photo.  Al has a friendly face and good hair, with just a small amount of stubble.  Lucy thinks he looks very handsome.  It's certainly a vast improvement on the ridiculous face fungus he's currently sporting.  She tells him so.

Lucy is rather disconcerted.  Is Al flirting with her?  After she slagged off his chin wig?  This is her first proper Twitter conversation with random strangers, and already it's taken a rather unexpected direction.  She hesitates, not quite sure what to say.

Al seems like a decent guy but he's quite clearly joking.  No one in their right mind would ask someone out on a date after just a few exchanges on Twitter.  Especially given that Al has no idea what Lucy looks like.  Her profile photo is of a giraffe.  Admittedly it's a rather attractive giraffe, with large brown eyes, long eyelashes, and a cute smile, but still, it's a fucking giraffe.  If Al fancies giraffes, his problems are far greater than just the beard thing.

Lucy googles the number for the RSPCA helpline, just in case.

So Al can't really be gunning for a date, since no one in their right mind would ask someone out without knowing what they look like.  Lucy could be 85 years old, or 85 stone, or even a man.

But the banter is fun, and Al seems to be doing his best to convince Lucy of the merits of beard ownership.

Lifeboat?  Lucy takes a look at Al's profile.  He says he's a 32-year old mechanic and lifeboat crew member, and has tweeted photos of lifeboats.  Lucy can't help being impressed - the man is an actual fucking hero. Not to mention the fact that if he's a lifeboat volunteer he must be (a) a Good Person, and (b) pretty damn fit.  Not that she's going to let him know she's impressed.  That's not how this game is played.

The article in question says that men with beards are more likely to lie and cheat than men without. 

Aha!  Al has inadvertently proved her point.   Everyone knows Jesus was a massive con artist, and that Santa breaks into people's houses at night and encourages little kids to sit on his lap - so he's probably a paedophile.  Further proving that men with beards are not to be trusted.

Lucy admires Al's persistence.  The problem is, even if he's serious - which clearly he can't possibly be - but even if he were, there's no way she can actually meet him.  There is already far too much personal information about Lucy online.  Al could easily read her messed-up dating stories and jump to all sorts of conclusions.  Not to mention the fact that he would immediately find out about her tendency to neurotically overthink everything.  And then he will definitely realise she's a crazy person and run a mile.

Bizarrely, in spite of the beard, Lucy is starting to find Al extremely attractive.  He has a handsome face, he's funny, and he seems intelligent.  Not to mention the full-on action hero thing.    

But of course they can never meet.  Quite apart from anything else, Lucy's pretty certain Al is a good five years younger than her. When he finds out her age, there is every chance he will lose interest.

Still, 5 years younger, and an action hero.  Lucy's willing to bet Al has quite a hot body.

But even though Al and Tinder Girl share a love of beards, Al does seem to be more interested in Lucy.

It's the chase, she realises.  Like all men, he likes a challenge.  He wants to pursue me like some fucking Neanderthal chasing after a woolly mammoth.

While Lucy could stand to lose a few pounds, and is frequently too lazy to shave her legs, she'll be damned if she'll put up with anyone comparing her to a hairy prehistoric herbivore.

All the same though, it's nice to have a bit of an online flirt.  So Lucy decides to continue the chat and see what happens.

(To find out what did, click here)

The Booty Call (Part 1)

Peter, the radio guy who slept with Lucy and then disappeared, has resurfaced.  He wants to know if Lucy is free to meet up this Saturday.  

It's a tale as old as time, she reflects.  No sooner have you decided not to bother with a guy any more, he starts pursuing you.  The lack of interest is like a red rag to a bull.   But why the hell does it not work when I try to fake disinterest with guys I really like?  They must have a ninja sixth sense.

Though clearly in Peter's case it's because he's got an itch that needs scratching.

Lucy's cross.  The cheek of it!  He doesn't reply to messages, he pretends not to have received them, he won't answer a question or agree a date to meet up... She's wasted far too much time and energy on this guy already.  She should tell him where to go. 

Problem is, she's really tempted to say yes.

Lucy is a pathological over-thinker, so she decides to draw up a list of pros and cons.  It looks like this:

Pros:

1. She doesn't have any other plans on Saturday.
2. She's already invested time and effort in Peter, it wouldn't be that much more trouble to say yes.
3. She's already slept with him once, so that awkward first time is out of the way. 
4. And it was really good.  Or at least, certainly better than no sex at all, which is the current alternative.
5. She's already decided she's not that fussed about him, so there's little chance of her getting hurt. 
6. She definitely hasn't had enough sex in her life so far, so now's her chance to make up for that.
7. She wants to, and saying no would only be denying herself something based on principle. But principles only get you so far. Lucy is fed up of having principles.
8. It's been sunny all week so she won't even need to shave her legs - they're already done. Win!

Cons:

1. He's messed her around and she doesn't want to reward his bad behaviour.  Or give him the satisfaction.
2. He'll probably disappear again immediately afterwards.
3. It'd be a bit slutty.

Lucy wonders if point 3 should really go in the 'pros' column.

Anyway, it's clearly a no-brainer.  She accepts.

But this time, she's determined not to make too much of an effort. She's not even entirely convinced he will actually show up.  So as a way of showing how entirely unconcerned she is about this whole thing, she decides not to wash her hair.  That way, if he cancels, at least she won't have wasted her time.

This small act of rebellion delights her. That'll teach him to mess her around.

Nevertheless, when Saturday rolls around, she's nervous again.  She's barely spoken to Peter since the last time, and he still feels like a stranger.  She hopes he won't be late - it's the waiting that gets to her.

Who is she kidding?  He's been late on all of the last three dates.  Lucy decides she'll be happy if he just bothers to turn up at all.

This is how they win, she grumbles.  Get you to lower your expectations by being dicks, so that you're grateful if they do something even the tiniest bit nice.  Like showing up.

Even though she knows this, Lucy still spends 10 minutes deciding which underwear to put on.  She goes for the (obvious) red ones with the push-up bra.  No point in owning this stuff if you don't wear it, she decides.

She spends a further 10 minutes in front of the mirror practising being sexy and trying to work out if red underwear makes her thighs look fat.  If only I had bigger boobs, she reflects, maybe my life would be different.

Then she remembers that she's too old for this shit.  She should be married by now to someone who is so grateful that she even owns red underwear that he doesn't give a fuck about her B-cups.

Peter phones.  He's running late.

Lucy pours herself a large glass of wine.

(To find out what happened, click here)

The Online Dating Virgin (Part 2)

Lucy has a date with Daniel, who does the same job as her.  Lucy likes Daniel because in his photos he looks like David Tennant.  Not that Lucy is shallow or anything. 

Daniel is divorced, and this is his first ever online date.  Lucy's determined to be so impressively witty and gorgeous that this will be not only Daniel's first internet date, but also his last.

She arrives at the bar moments before Daniel, and is still scanning the room to see if he's there when he walks in, wearing jeans and a pale blue shirt.

She does the instant, 2-second judge.  Looks like his photos?  Thankfully, yes.  Does he look like David Tennant?  Not so much, but still handsome.  Height?  As predicted, short, no more than an inch taller than her.  Does she fancy him?  Not on first sight, no.

They order cocktails and squeeze onto bar stools at a corner table.  Lucy's stool is wedged tightly between the table and the wall.  Good thing I'm not chubby, she thinks.  A fat girl'd never fit in here.

Daniel is chatty, and shoots questions at her like it's the quick fire round of a gameshow.  Lucy would like to ask one back, but doesn't seem to get the chance.  Still, at least there are no awkward silences.  Lucy always feels the need to fill silences and invariably ends up saying something stupid.

Daniel fills her in on his weekend.  He went to a stag do.

"I had to arrange it all," he tells her.  "I always seem to end up being the one in charge because I'm really organised."

Lucy, who alphabetises her DVDs and colour codes her knicker drawer, thinks she might be in love. In spite of his height.

"I haven't been on a hen do in ages because all my friends are already married," she tells him.  "Though I guess they'll be moving on to the divorces soon, and then we'll be on to round two."

Daniel looks uncomfortable.  Shit, she forgot he's divorced.

To lighten the mood, she tells him about the last hen party she went to.  "It was in someone's flat," she recounts.  "There was a stripper.  It was pretty awkward.  I've never seen a real, full-on stripper before."
"Did you see an erect penis?" Daniel asks.

Lucy is quite shocked that they are only 15 minutes into the date and Daniel has already said the word 'penis'.

She tells him the penis in question was not erect.  But it was pretty big and the stripper did swing it around and grind up against the bride.
Daniel looks concerned.  Lucy hopes he doesn't think she's into that sort of thing.

Now the subject has moved onto penises, it's hard to talk about anything else.

"Once, at a house party, a stranger touched my cock," he tells her.
"How does that happen?" Lucy queries.
"I was staying in the house with an ex-girlfriend. During the party we went back to our room to have sex. We were getting down to business when this random guy walked in and put his hand on my cock.  I think he wanted to join in."

Lucy wonders if this is Daniel's way of suggesting a threesome.  Just in case he's about to get any ideas, she tells him she's never had one and has no intention of trying.

"But I have been in the room when other people have been having sex," she adds.  Doesn't want Daniel to think she's a prude.

He looks intrigued.

"It was in a youth hostel in Colombia.  I was in a shared dorm and a couple started having sex in the middle of the night.  I had to listen to the whole thing."

Nice to get Colombia in, she thinks. Now he knows I'm adventurous and well-travelled.  But also not a pervert.

The date seems to be going well. They've had three cocktails.  Daniel suggests going to get some food, so they head for a Japanese place round the corner.

As they walk in, a waiter passes with some delicious-looking meat skewers.

"Yum," says Lucy.
Daniel drops a bombshell. "I'm a vegetarian," he confesses.
Lucy wants to cry.

They order boring vegetarian food, and wine.  Daniel offers to pay for the meal.
Too bloody right, thinks Lucy.  Forcing me to eat cardboard.
If we have a second date, she wonders, next time can I force him to eat meat?  Seems only fair.

Outside the restaurant, they say goodbye.  In spite of the vegetarian bombshell Daniel has been good company and Lucy has had a good time.
"Look, it's 11 pm," she points out. "That never happens."
"Why," he asks.  "What time do you normally stay out till?"
"I try to stay for 2 drinks out of politeness.  But a couple of times it's been so bad I've left after just one."

Lucy hopes Daniel realises how lucky he's been to meet her on his first ever online date.
"It's not going to get better than this for him," she thinks. "He's going to get a nasty shock when he carries on and finds out what Tinder girls are really like.
Lucy feels sad for Daniel, what with all the twattish behaviour he's got coming his way.

Daniel tells her he would like to see her again.  She wonders if he will try to kiss her.
But he doesn't.
Lucy is disappointed.   Just because she doesn't fancy him all that much doesn't mean a snog wouldn't have been nice.

(To be continued...?)

UPDATE: It wasn't.  Lucy didn't hear from Daniel for 10 days after the date, and eventually she messaged him.  They arranged to meet again, but the day before the second date Daniel cancelled, blaming work commitments. They haven't communicated since.  Lucy is fully expecting to bump into him again at some point through work... which could be awkward...

The Online Dating Virgin (Part 1)

Lucy has matched with Daniel.  Daniel is 45, has brown hair, and looks a bit like David Tennant.  Lucy is deliriously in love with David Tennant.  She even took up watching Doctor Who, and sat through dozens of ridiculous episodes, because of him.  (So she was bloody relieved when he quit.)

David Tennant is 6 feet tall.  Daniel doesn't give his height in his profile.  Lucy examines his photos to try to work out if that means he's short.  In general, tall guys always boast about their height, but short guys try to hide it for as long as possible, so Daniel is probably short.  This is disappointing. 

In one of the photos, Daniel is lying in the road.  Behind him is a bicycle.  Lucy tries to analyse the relative sizes of the bike and Daniel to try to work out roughly how tall he is.  How long is the bicycle?  How far away is it from Daniel?  What effect does the perspective have on their relative sizes in the photo?  Why is he lying in the road anyway?

She gives up.

It turns out Daniel works in the same industry as Lucy.  He even worked at the company she's currently based at until just a few weeks ago, and knows many of the people who still work there.

Lucy is delighted.  Maybe Daniel could be The One (despite probably being short).  They missed each other by a couple of weeks, but maybe fate just needed a little helping hand in the form of a dating app to bring them together.  She wonders if ballet flats would go with a wedding dress.

Then Lucy remembers that in 14 years, she has never met a decent, straight, single man working in her (female-dominated) industry.  All the men are either married, gay, or arseholes.  So if David is single, what is wrong with him?

The quickest way to find out, she reasons, is simply to ask him.

Ah. Divorced with kids.

Lucy is not sure about dating a man who already has kids.  On the one hand it means it's likely he won't want any more, which is fine by her.  Lucy enjoys sleep, freedom, travel and disposable income far too much to give it all up.  Especially not to become a slave to some tiny psychotic dictator.

But on the other hand a man who has kids will always have other priorities.  And dating a dad would mean she would have to pretend to like Other People's Children.

As everyone knows, Other People's Children are, without exception, little shits.  Lucy tries to avoid Other People's Children wherever possible.

Then she remembers Daniel looks like David Tennant, so she decides to give him a chance.

Lucy turns to the company intranet to see if Daniel is still listed there.  This is not stalking.  This is research.  Research is allowed - and in fact is even advisable.  A sensible girl will always check out her date online if she can, she reasons.  Just in case he turns out to be a convicted criminal.  Or a vegetarian.

There are five Daniels in the company phone directory.  Lucy googles all of them but nothing of interest comes up, except that one of them shares his name with a top rugby player.  Either that, or the top rugby player has quit sports and is now working in HR for Lucy's company.   She makes a mental note to check out the boys in HR next time she visits the second floor.

Lucy and Daniel agree to meet for cocktails after work.  He reveals that he has only recently joined the online dating world and this will be his first actual date.

Lucy is going to pop Daniel's online dating cherry.

This could be a problem, she thinks.  Online dating is like house hunting.  You need to experience a few rubbish ones, a few that have been mis-advertised, one or two that are falling-apart and smell weird, before you can appreciate the good ones.  If you see the perfect house on your first viewing, you won't recognise it.

Lucy is not a mouldy and cramped ex-council flat described by a cocky estate agent as 'a stylish and spacious city dwelling with opportunity for redevelopment'.  She's a gorgeous (and yet reasonably priced) Victorian conversion with high ceilings and outside space.  Daniel has hit the jackpot on his first roll of the dice.

But if he's never been ghosted, or stood up, or had to sit through one excruciating hour with someone weird or boring, how will he know that he's struck gold with Lucy?

Daniel has peaked too early.  All Lucy can do is hope that he's sensible enough to recognise a good thing when he sees it.

Lucy is determined to make this the best date ever and be Daniel's first - and last - internet date.  But if that fails, then at the very least she plans to set the bar high.  This date will be the gold standard for all that follow.  In 20 years time, Daniel will still remember the girl who popped his internet dating cherry and wish he hadn't let her go.

She selects just the right outfit - a casual dress that says "I'm feminine and have great legs but I haven't actually made all that much of an effort".  Flat shoes in case he's short.  She even plucks the stray hairs out of her chin and upper lip.  And heads out to meet him...

(To be find out what happened, click here)

Blast from the past

Lucy's matched with Mark from Bumble. 

Mark appears to be very handsome but it's hard to be sure as he only has two photos.  One is a head and shoulders shot with just blue sky behind.  The other is the same photo, only zoomed in.   

Lucy wonders if Mark has arms and legs. She messages him to see if she can find out. 

WTF? thinks Lucy.  We've met before?!

Lucy estimates she's been on several hundred internet dates in her time, so it's entirely possible she's forgotten a few of them.  But Mark's photo is not familiar in the slightest.  She really doesn't recognise him at all. 

There can be only one explanation.  Lucy is never wrong.  Mark must have made a mistake. 

Mark seems determined they've met before. How can this be?  If he's right, she's mortified!

Recently, on Bumble, Lucy came across a guy she'd had a date with about a year ago.  At the time he'd asked her out again but she'd turned him down.  Now, out of curiosity, she swipes right and messages him - and he completely doesn't remember her.  Lucy is outraged.  He was supposed to have been heartbroken!

She really doesn't want to be that person.  So she digs through all her old emails and WhatsApp chats to see if she's ever dated anyone called Mark before.  She ends up reading through some amusing past conversations and reminding herself of a few shockers... but there is no sign of Mark.

It's a complete mystery. She needs answers.

Facebook?  Lucy racks her tired, dating-addled brain.

Then the penny finally drops.

Lucy doesn't remember going on a date with Mark before because she never did go on a date with him.

Lucy met Mark in 2010 when she was travelling alone in New Zealand - back when she was younger and hotter but had just started dating The Ex.  She had just arrived in Christchurch and was eating dinner alone in a small cafe when Mark walked in.  He was also on his own, he was attractive, and Lucy wanted to meet people - so she bravely invited him to join her.  They ate together, swapped details and never saw each other again.

And now, here he is, 7 years later, single, and in London!  This is perfect.  Maybe the timing wasn't right when they met before but now fate has brought them back together.  This will be a great story to tell the grandkids.

Mark is a good, strong name.  And he's a lawyer.  She can definitely introduce him to her parents.

Lucy goes to Facebook to check his profile out and see if she can glean any more information. But she hits a snag.

It appears that at some point in the last 7 years she has defriended him.

All she can see is his profile photo, which is of a young David Bowie, and his cover photo, which shows some pissed-off looking cats superimposed onto a representation of the Galaxy.

Well this is awkward. The only thing she can do is try to style it out.

Lucy's not sure what to make of this.  Is he joking?  It sounds like he's joking.  But she doesn't know him at all, so maybe he's genuinely offended.  After all, she didn't believe him when he said they'd met before - and she's also deleted him from Facebook.  This is not going well.  

Lucy gives up on trying to style it out and tried to defend herself instead. 

Ah, ok, so he WAS joking.

Lucy can almost hear the sound of crashing and burning as her dreams of a summer wedding to a handsome solicitor fall to pieces.  But might be ok, she thinks, there's still a chance to rescue this, with a cheeky dig.

Oh.

WTAF?

The fantasy bubble bursts and Lucy lands with a thud.

Admittedly things weren't going brilliantly, but there was no need for that.

But maybe, just maybe, he's still joking.  Doesn't say much for his sense of humour, and it would be a pretty terrible joke to make via text with someone you don't know, but a joke is now the best case scenario here.

Lucy's not sure Mark deserves it, but she decides to give him one last chance.

Well what is that supposed to mean?  Was it a joke or not?  If he won't apologise, or explain himself, what is Lucy supposed to say?

She decides to say nothing and see if Mark will come back with a better response later.  He doesn't, and a few days after that he unmatches her.

Lucy has no idea what fate was playing at, but she wishes it would stop being such an arse.

Online d(eb)ating (Part 2)

Lucy has been asked on a date by Steve.  

Steve initially told Lucy he didn't find her attractive, and only swiped right on her profile because he swipes right on everyone and then decides later if he likes them or not. 

In other words, Steve is a first-class cockwomble. 

Lucy told Steve exactly what she thought of this kind of behaviour, but rather than make him block her and move to a different county, her approach - astoundingly - seems to have won him over. 

Crikey! she thinks.  That was unexpected.

She's curious, but of course there is no way she can actually meet him.  Don't forget he's an arsehole, she reminds herself. 

But then she reconsiders.  I've come this far, she thinks... why not take a risk?  Life is all about taking chances.  Who knows what might happen?  And at least I'd have a story to tell...

Steve wastes no time in making a plan.  Sort of.

Lucy should have known this would get weird.  The clues have been there since the beginning.  Who gives out their address to a random online date?  What sort of girl does he think would go round to a complete stranger's house?  And WTF is with the "wear clothes" comment?!

A big fan?!  Has Lucy got herself in too deep?  Is Steve going to turn out to have a penchant for inviting women back to his luxury bachelor pad in Westminster and slicing them up?

Not sure where this is now going, she offers a cautious reply.

Steve does not reply. 

Lucy wonders what exactly she has just avoided: a brutally painful death at the hands of an axe-wielding serial killer... or just a brutally painful date in the company of a self-obsessed City boy whose ego is bigger than his bank balance.

Either way, it's been a lucky escape. 

Online d(eb)ating

After a series of unsuccessful attempts to meet a nice guy on Bumble, Lucy decides to try something new.  So she signs up to Happn, the app that tries to pair you up with people you've crossed paths with.

She thinks the idea of fate is pretty much a load of bollocks, but if the guys live or work near her, that's got to at least make it easier when it comes to arranging dates.

Lucy soon matches with half a dozen guys, and efficiently sends each one a short hello message to get the ball rolling.

One of them is Steve.  Steve is 36 and says he likes "holidaying, wining and dining, and challenging himself to be a better man."  His profile photo is a selfie of himself in a dark suit in front of a hallway mirror.

Lucy thinks the mirror selfie makes Steve look like a narcissistic wanker.  But he's the right age and he's not yet showing any signs of middle age spread.  Plus he says he'd like to be 'a better man'.   Having spent 5 years battling to shape The Ex into the perfect boyfriend, Lucy's encouraged by the idea of a guy who's open to a little improvement.

But after a week or so, Steve hasn't replied.  In fact, not one of her new matches has.

Lucy is royally pissed off.  This happens All The Time on dating apps and as far as she's concerned, it's just about the rudest thing there is.  Why do guys bother to swipe right if they have no intention of communicating when they get a match?  What is the fucking point?  Is it just an ego thing, so they can see how many matches they get?  

Normally, Lucy would just let it go and move on, but not this week.  She wants answers.  This is one of life's great mysteries, right up there with why doesn't Tarzan have a beard and what on earth was Lost really all about?  So she decides to send a message to all of her non-correspondents, and see if any of them will give her answers.

Amazingly, she gets a response.  It's from mirror-selfie man himself, Steve.

Lucy is literally speechless with fury. "Swipe and like then assess"?!  "Haven't got time to be thoughtful in selection"??!  And most outrageous of all: "I don't find you attractive"??!!

What a cunt.

She pours herself a much-needed glass of wine and considers what to do next.  A sensible girl would just let it go and move on to the next one.  But Lucy has been 'letting it go' and 'moving on to the next one' over and over and Over and OVER for too long, and this time she's not going down without a fight.   

She's also not about to let a self-absorbed prick like Steve get the last word.

So she messages him back. 

BOOM! Mic drop and exit stage left, she thinks.   That's how it's done. 

But far from being crushed by her argument, the next day, Steve replies.

Suddenly this is getting interesting. Here's a guy who could have unmatched or blocked her at any time, but he's actually engaging with the conversation. And he seems intelligent, despite what the mirror selfie suggested.  Lucy's starting to enjoy the debate.   So she bounces the ball back into his court.

Nice, she thinks.  A couple of putdowns squirrelled away in there ought to get right up his nose.  

This time she neither needs nor expects a reply, but not long after, there he is again. 

Poor bunny. He's all confused, and now he's gone from "I don't find you attractive" to calling her a "very sweet girl".  Could this be because a woman who doesn't look like a Page 3 model has turned out to be interesting, with brains and a personality?  What a revelation that must have been!

Now Lucy's filled with a new missionary zeal.  She feels like Steve is on the cusp of a road-to-Damascus conversion.  She could be the one to open his eyes to a whole new world of possibilities, in which potential girlfriends don't only come in 5'5, 32DD, perma-tanned packages.   Not that she wants Steve for herself, it's far too late for that, but if she can change just one mind, it will have been time well spent.

Steve quickly pings back a response.

 WTAF??!  Did Mr "I don't find you attractive" just ask her out on a date?!

That was not part of the plan.  The point was simply to win Steve over with the power of her wit and personality.  And that's done.  Game, set and match.

But now things have taken an unexpected turn.  And the question is: should she accept...?

(To find out Lucy decided, click here)

Still not down with the kids

Lucy's been on one date with Vincent, the handsomest man she has ever been out with.  It wasn't exactly a roaring success.  It turns out Vincent has a few rather controversial opinions.

Having taken exception to some of these opinions on the first date, Lucy is certain she won't hear from him again.  She isn't bothered in the slightest.  Vincent was a bit of a knob.

So when he texts the next day, she's confused.  Didn't he notice her disagreeing with him?  Then she remembers that guys seem to like girls more when they're not interested.  Idiots.

I can't go on another date with this man, she thinks.  I've already told all my friends what a tosser he is.

Maybe Lucy and Vincent will be like one of those couples in movies who hate each other when they first meet and eventually sexy sparks will fly and they'll end up falling in love and getting married.

There's no way I can marry him, Lucy decides.  He'll want me to take his last name, and his last name is impossible to spell.  Giving my details over the phone will be hell.

Then she remembers that Vincent is hot as fuck and decides that it would only be fair to give the guy a second chance.

When Lucy arrives for the date, he's leaning against a wall outside the tube station in jeans and a yellow Ralph Lauren polo shirt, which sets off his tan and his ripped biceps perfectly.  Not an ounce of body fat on there, Lucy thinks.  Yum.

As she walks towards him he smiles, a flash of even white teeth against his brown skin.  Still has great hair, even though he's over 40.

Lucy feels a little flutter of attraction. He might be a bit of a dick but he's fit AS, so maybe she can forgive him.  At least for a while.

It's a sunny evening and Lucy is in a good mood.  A large glass of wine puts her in an even better mood.  She chatters away, not letting Vincent get a word in.

He doesn't have all that much to say for himself, she thinks.  Boring!

Vincent is very sporty and is a member of a running club.  Lucy tries to impress him by telling him she went to her first ever British Military Fitness class yesterday.  She doesn't tell him she joined BMF as a way of meeting hot men.

So far there have been no hot men in BMF, and Lucy can barely walk today.

Someday she hopes it'll be because of a hot man that she can barely walk the next day.

She doesn't tell Vincent that either.

Vincent has been watching the Grand Prix on the TV.  Lucy knows fuck all about Formula 1 and thinks it's mind-bendingly dull.
Vincent tells her that motorsports are fascinating because so much engineering goes into the cars.
"Did you know that when they brake on a wet road they can displace enough water to fill a bathtub?" he asks.
Lucy did not know that. She wonders what Vincent would look like in her bathtub.

Lucy tries to engage Vincent with some of the foody facts she has learned this week.
"Most people think prawn crackers are just prawn flavouring but did you know they actually contain 20% prawn meat?"
Vincent did not know that.  He seems impressed.

"Did you know that that bergamot, which is used to flavour Earl Grey tea, is a citrus fruit?" she quizzes.
Vincent has never even heard of bergamot and certainly never given it any thought.
Lacking in general knowledge, thinks Lucy.  Not a good sign.

Vincent tells her he doesn't know much about food because he doesn't cook all that much.  If he wants a nice meal he just rings up a friend and invites himself round for dinner.
They love having someone to cook for, he tells her.
Lucy wonders if the friends would say the same.
She deducts another point from Vincent's score. She needs a man who will cook for her.

Vincent recently signed up to one of those meal delivery services where they send you all the ingredients and you cook it yourself.
He tells her the meal was meant for two people but he ate it all himself.
At last, something we have in common! she rejoices.

Conversation starts to flag again, so Lucy asks Vincent where he lives.  He tells her he has a flat in South London.  That means he's stable and solvent. Check.
He's annoyed because all the properties in his area are being bought up by Jewish people.
"What's them being Jewish got to do with anything?" she asks.
"They just are," he tells her.  "They're buying up hundreds of properties. Jewish people are big property investors."
Lucy wonders if he's being anti-Semitic.
Then she wonders if she should tell him that her Dad is Jewish.

Happily, she remembers she has the totally legit excuse of having to catch a train back to Brighton.

Vincent offers to walk with her to the station.  Lucy is confused.
What can this mean?  Is he after a snog?  Surely he noticed we have zero chemistry?
Still she can't exactly stop him from walking with her.  She decides that if he goes in for a snog she will let him. He is fit, after all. And it would be far more awkward to try to dodge it.

Luckily, when they get to the station he just gives her a peck on the cheek and leaves.

Lucy is relieved.

Not down with the kids

Lucy goes on a date with Vincent, a commodities trader in the City.  Lucy already knows from his profile that he's a handsome guy, but in a startling break from the usual in-the-flesh disappointment, Vincent's photos actually don't do him justice.  In real life he is possibly the best-looking man Lucy has ever been out with.   Uh-oh, she thinks, if he's this attractive and still single, it probably spells trouble...

It's not long before the first signs appear.  

Lucy asks about Vincent's family.  He has a brother who lives in America, but he doesn't get on with his brother's wife. 
"Why not?" Lucy asks.
Vincent says it's because the sister-in-law is a bit 'new age'. 
Lucy asks if this means she's into homeopathy or feng shui.
"Oh no," explains Vincent.  "It's just that she doesn't believe in hitting her kids." 

Lucy's dream of making stunningly attractive babies with this man flies out the window. 

Vincent tells Lucy he doesn't use Facebook.  "I don't see the point," he says.  "If you need to share something with your friends, just do it on WhatsApp.  My friends use it to send me stuff all the time." 
"Oh? Like what?"
"Mostly porn videos."

Lucy remarks that perhaps Vincent should get some new friends. 

"Oh no, it's funny," he replies.  "The other day one sent me a video of someone shagging a dead person."
Lucy is not sure necrophilia porn is a good topic for a first date.  She scans the room for the nearest emergency exit. "Don't worry," Vincent says, "all guys do this.  If you don't know this, you clearly don't understand men."

Lucy realises she is going to die alone.

(But wait, there's more.  To find out what happened next, click here.)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 3)

After what seemed like a never-ending dry spell which looked like it would only end when our heroine shrivelled up and died from lack of human contact, Lucy has finally had sex with Peter, who works in radio.

(To read all about it, click here.)

He texts her the next day.

Mind-blowing, eh? Lucy gives herself a high five.

But later she wonders if she should have paid attention to the number of exclamation marks.   Peter seems to have a tendency to overuse them when he's being insincere.

And it's not long before the enthusiastic responses start to dwindle...

Lucy is aware that guys don't like to be chased.  As much as they protest that it's the 21st century and they like the idea of equality, she has plenty of evidence that's not true.  Guys like girls who are a challenge.  Lucy thinks she was a challenge when Peter wasn't sure if he'd get to have sex with her.  But now he has, the attraction seems to be waning. 

Lucy does try her best to be unavailable and hard to get.  She's read all the advice that says that she should wait days before replying to messages, and be enigmatic and mysterious.  She knows what she's supposed to do.  The problem is, she's shit at it.  Lucy is prompt, efficient, and organised.  She doesn't do failing to reply to messages.   And she's a planner.  She likes to have her diary neatly organised in advance so she knows what she's doing in the week ahead.  If she waits too long to reply to Peter's messages, she won't know whether they're meeting up again or not.  And Lucy hates that.

The problem is, none of that is sexy. 

But Lucy is 38.  She doesn't give a fuck any more.  If a guy is going to be put off by her being herself, then so be it.  He wasn't worth it anyway.  So she ignores the advice about playing hard to get and tries to pin him down. 

Maybe one day she'll learn.  But not today.

Clever, thinks Lucy.  Makes me sound busy and in demand, and maybe now he'll actually pick a date.

But of course he doesn't.  So Lucy tells him she's moving to Brighton.  Surely that will make her seem hard to get and have him eating out of her hand?

It seems to have the desired effect.

She definitely does, but she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being too keen.  Not after he's been so sporadic with his texts.  So she replies, but plays it cool.  Surely now he'll come back with a suggested date?

But she should have noticed those seven exclamation marks - which more than ever seem to imply that what he really means is the exact opposite of what he's just said.  Days pass, and there is no word.

Any sensible girl would have given up long ago.  Lucy knows she should do the same.  But she can't. She starts making excuses.  Maybe he really is busy with work.  He does work long hours and have a stressful job.  And he did say she was 'mind-blowing' and that he wanted to 'ravish' her again.  Why would he say that if he didn't mean it?  So she tries one last time to get some clarity.

Lucy has no fucking clue about men.

Well at least he replied.  But for fuck's sake!  Why bother to write two texts making his excuses instead of answering the fucking question!

And there are those exclamation marks again...

Now he's forcing her to wait for a WhatsApp message.  But why not just send a text?  Lucy just doesn't get it, and annoyance boils up and spills over like the bubbles in a shaken can of coke.  She doesn't even like the guy all that much.  Bloody car salesman.

And yet even so, part of her still hopes that when he does message, he'll finally tell her when he's free to meet up.  If ever there were proof that treating 'em mean keeps 'em keen, right now Lucy is it.

But when the message finally arrives, hours later, she is still none the wiser.

Nine exclamation marks.  Clearly it's all over.

But Lucy's fine with it.  She could never be with someone who misuses punctuation so appallingly.

(UPDATE: turns out it wasn't all over.  To find out what happened next, click here)