Online dating profiles. My own take on them is this:
Please don't go into detail about how, you know...you're a person and everything. **News flash** We ALL like to go out and get drunk, as well as staying in to watch a DVD with someone else, to travel the world and experience new cultures, to sit in a pub on a Sunday and whatever other golden insights you're offering me here. This does not positively differentiate you, in fact it probably just makes me think you're uninventive.
Generally I find people who put too much effort into a description of themselves instantly less attractive. Effort and trying hard aren't attractive traits. I appreciate you may want to distill your entire personality, dreams, ambitions and desires into one small descriptive box so as to better your chances of meeting your soul mate. But you're not going to be able to. Hopefully you're a lot more complex than that.
Do be funny or catch me off guard with what you say.
But don't go too far and be a dick.
Do be specific if you feel passionately about something. A musical scene, an author, a director, or some other cultural hook it may turn out we both hang our hats on. It gives us an actual insight into what makes you tick, grounds for believing there's more going on to my interest here than just the fact that I want to see what your face looks like when it's flushed and as though you're about to sneeze.
Because fundamentally all of these words are like the paraphernalia to a meal. Pictures are of course everything. Ultimately if I'm dealing with what looks as appealing as a microwave meal, no amount of egyptian cotton napkins, heavy silver cutlery or pea shoots scattered around the main course (Fans of Masterchef will know what I'm on about here) are going to make me want to sit down and eat.
If your pictures make me want to fuck you, then you can write exactly the opposite profile of what I've advised above and I'll probably still send a message saying hi. If you're hot and you go with the advice above, I'll actually start falling for you in a small way right from the start.
Which brings me on to Posy who I met up with last night.
Posy was really pretty in her pictures. However, a couple of them made me think that she could actually be really quite rotund. Now, I have to say again at this point that whilst I'm no Patrick Bateman with an intolerance for imperfection (I am neither rich nor good looking enough to develop this trait), and some of the best sex has been with girls who are not the prettiest, or most trim - but given the choice, I'd rather meet up with a girl who is as sexually attractive to me as possible.
For this you can call me shallow. You can call me an asshole; in general I think I'd agree with you, but this is what online dating is. It's not the real world. It's not subject to the same social mores and white lies that go into reinforcing our general social bonds. My first aim in this is not to find new friends. My main aim is to find the most beautiful, intelligent girl in the world who thinks like me, drinks like me, fucks like me, and who'll turn out to actually like me. And I intend to have fun along the way meeting new people who are attractive to me either because of an initial picture or a conversation that develops.
For this you can call me shallow. You can call me an asshole; in general I think I'd agree with you, but this is what online dating is. It's not the real world. It's not subject to the same social mores and white lies that go into reinforcing our general social bonds. My first aim in this is not to find new friends. My main aim is to find the most beautiful, intelligent girl in the world who thinks like me, drinks like me, fucks like me, and who'll turn out to actually like me. And I intend to have fun along the way meeting new people who are attractive to me either because of an initial picture or a conversation that develops.
I've had it before where I met up with a girl and she looked nothing like her pictures (I felt desperately short changed), but generally, most people don't make the mistake to put up an unrealistically attractive picture of themselves. But with Posy I just couldn't be sure. We're friends on facebook so I sent pictures to some of my girlfriends and they were as stumped as me. It could go either way.
I met Posy in a pub in London Fields during London Fashion Week. She walked in dressed in silky leggings, a camel coloured loose knit wollen dress and long brown hair tousled by the cold wind that was blowing outside. It turns out that actually she's just one of these people who can carry a little weight in their face. She fills her leggings well and is effortlessly pretty, she is not caked in makeup with mathematically straightened hair.
Round 1: Posy.
She had some absolutely amazing bad date stories which I won't detail - I want everyone to remain anonymous in this blog - we got past small talk pretty quickly and were relaxed in each others company. Three or four rounds in we decide to chip off to a LFW party that was going off in a warehouse within walking distance because it was going to be free booze. The crowd there was typically fashion, everyone dressed ridiculously, and the men wearing a great deal more make up than Posy.
On this point, I went to a screening of Rankins new short video the other day, and beyond the music, editing and tech, finding the models attractive and some of the framing interesting, I just didn't get it. I couldn't see the actual point of making this video at all, couldn't see how it was genuinely adding anything of value other than gimmick that a photo couldn't. But then as with this crowd at the party, people like me aren't meant to get pure fashion. It's meant to be ridiculous and nonsensical to the masses, it's meant to push things forward; mediocrity is it's foil. But regardless, if you're a dude dressed in Luftwaffe bondage trousers and blue eyeshadow, I'm going to struggle to take you seriously.
The drinks aren't free and the vibe is pretentious so we finish our drinks and go to an old mans pub nearby. A few more drinks in and we're both pretty drunk. The place empties and then it's just the two of us left playing pool. I'm sat next to her and we're talking shit, laughing, and she moves in and kisses me. It makes me realise that I can't remember the last time a girl instigated a kiss, I guess that says more for how forward I am than anything else though. We spend the next 5 minutes kissing like drunks, not a care for our surroundings, mouths locked and hands exploring. The landlady loudly clears her throat, we both look up and she has her head tilted forward and to one side with a look on her face that says 'Have you not got somewhere better to be than this corner of my pub?'
We giggle, grab our stuff and make our way to the door. It's late, sure there are places we can go to drink more but there's only one thing on our minds now.
"Shall we go back to mine?"
No matter what the situation, no matter how confident you feel, the first time you ask this question is always a mini heart in mouth moment, not something that just blurts out. Not for me anyway.
"Yes"
"Yes"
Round 2: Unremarkable Man.
We're kissing as my keys turn in the lock. On the second flights of stairs I have her pinned against the wall, my hand in her knee-pit (why is this part of the body not named more often?) lifting her leg up. She's kissing me frantically as I grind my erection up against her. We make it to my front door and as I fumble with my keys again she has her hand resting on the bulge in my jeans, stroking me whilst she licks my ear. It sends shivers down my spine every time when a girl breathes, licks, or talks breathily into my ear. It's hot.
In my room I take my t-shirt off, then kissing her I push her back onto my bed and tell her I'm going to put some music on. I put on Beach House I think and as I'm scrolling through my itunes, Posy is up behind me, kissing my back, reaching round and undoing my jeans. Her hand slips in outside my tight boxers and around my dick. I carry on playing with my mac as her hand now slips inside my underwear, her hand cold against my throbbing hot cock. I turn around and she's taken her dress and leggings off, I kiss her slowly but intensely. My cock is poking up trapped under the elastic, she licks her fingers and staring deep into my eyes rubs her wet fingers around the head of me. Really. Really. Slowly. And it is fucking amazing making my cock almost painfully hard. Dropping down to her knees she replaces her fingers with the soft ministrations of her mouth, planting wet kisses on me.
We fuck and it's pretty good. Not out of this world, so to stop this blog becoming too repetitive I shan't go into details.
As I say, Burlesque cancelled on me on Wednesday so a quick text and me and Posy were back in bed fucking again. She's pretty cool, but I don't feel a great connection with her. I think maybe a year or so ago I'd have been more than happy to have Posy as a fuck buddy, but I think I yearn for more now. This generally happens every time I go online dating, I start off by going on lots of dates, then gradually start getting more picky. It's no bad thing, but it is a shame that the cheap and easy thrills of general dating are ephemeral.
I went out last night to a Red Bull party where I drank WAY too much free rum. The last half of this post was written on a stinking hangover, so apologies if my lack of mental faculties shows...this has kind of trailed off into nothingnesszzzzzzz......
In my room I take my t-shirt off, then kissing her I push her back onto my bed and tell her I'm going to put some music on. I put on Beach House I think and as I'm scrolling through my itunes, Posy is up behind me, kissing my back, reaching round and undoing my jeans. Her hand slips in outside my tight boxers and around my dick. I carry on playing with my mac as her hand now slips inside my underwear, her hand cold against my throbbing hot cock. I turn around and she's taken her dress and leggings off, I kiss her slowly but intensely. My cock is poking up trapped under the elastic, she licks her fingers and staring deep into my eyes rubs her wet fingers around the head of me. Really. Really. Slowly. And it is fucking amazing making my cock almost painfully hard. Dropping down to her knees she replaces her fingers with the soft ministrations of her mouth, planting wet kisses on me.
We fuck and it's pretty good. Not out of this world, so to stop this blog becoming too repetitive I shan't go into details.
As I say, Burlesque cancelled on me on Wednesday so a quick text and me and Posy were back in bed fucking again. She's pretty cool, but I don't feel a great connection with her. I think maybe a year or so ago I'd have been more than happy to have Posy as a fuck buddy, but I think I yearn for more now. This generally happens every time I go online dating, I start off by going on lots of dates, then gradually start getting more picky. It's no bad thing, but it is a shame that the cheap and easy thrills of general dating are ephemeral.
I went out last night to a Red Bull party where I drank WAY too much free rum. The last half of this post was written on a stinking hangover, so apologies if my lack of mental faculties shows...this has kind of trailed off into nothingnesszzzzzzz......
