Glass of water (Part One)

So, after maybe a year and a half’s subscription to the Guardian’s Soul Mates dating site, I went on what was going to be my last date. I had decided when my subscription ended there was going to be no way I was going to renew it. I had said this before only to find myself, a couple of months later, back online again. But this time it was going to be different, this time I was going to kick the habit for good. I knew I could quit anytime so one more date wouldn’t kill me. Besides, as usual I had no plans.

With the invention of the internet had come great change in the world of communication, but mainly the biggest change that had happened since the dawn of the interweb to me was my relationship life. The fact that I now had one. Well sort of.This change had really coincided with my age too. In my early and late teens, early mid and late twenties I mainly met men in clubs, got really pissed and had one night stands. It always amazes me as to how many men I would have too sleep with before one of them actually rang me back.

And if I really start to think about the” relationship” numbers it really doesn’t add up to much. In my whole life I have “been out with” two people and a half at a push, ok maybe one. It is the nature of the gay world I would say, combined with my disfunctionality and bad taste in man and overall availability. Eventually you have to put all this down to experience and false memory.

Initially internet dating seemed to be my last hope at ever finding someone. It is such a seductive process not dissimilar to shopping on ebay, you want to make sure you get the best possible bargain with free post. It’s like shopping for your perfect life. You are judging people and your future happiness on a couple of badly taken photo-shopped photographs, and a short profile that describes them, with phrases like” down to earth” or “Sane and Sorted”.

I had put all my hope on this last date. The secret to my future happiness rested in a photo-shopped image of him sat on the grass on a hot summer’s day in a plaid shirt and faded jeans.From the look of those jeans and that shirt I knew this guy would be the one I would spend the rest of my life with, a life I had already imagined and fully planned out including our holidays, break ups, arguments and meals out to fancy restaurants. The whole thing had already taken place in my head before even meeting this guy. As everything had all happened in my head I could hardly be bothered to meet him. I almost didn’t need too.

And when I did it would only be a disappointment and it was for both of us.The first date was quite pleasant; although he didn’t live up to my preconceptions, I realised there was no way he or anyone could. I was willing to give him a go.I was quite good at dating by this point and had my technique down to a tee, including a regular script of questions I asked. I listened to answers with an interested look on my face that was well practiced; I would tell my well rehearsed funny stories with precision.Other rules included not drinking too much I had made this mistake time and time again, which made me prone to witter, wittering was never good! Never finish a sentence, when you have started it with “don’t you think it’s funny when…..”I found him very mildly attractive. A little bit boring maybe, but boring was a good thing I was telling myself, you know calm, and solid. Opposites attract. I noticed he complained a few times about our service in the bar and restaurant which I hate usually, but I let it slide as he may just have been nervous, or maybe the tomato soup was too tomatoee?The first date seemed interesting.

I knew he wasn’t my type and that I probably wasn’t his, but I did feel as though there was something there, something in-between us( table and chairs, our obvious hatred for each other? The fact we had nothing in common, the fact that we were both dating other people?) There was definitely something that I just couldn’t put my finger on. And also with the end of my subscription to Guardian Soul mates looming I wasn’t ready to give up on my last chance of happiness just yet.Although I didn’t initially fancy him it’s like my mum says, these things can grow. (like a tumour). And this was the week that I had read the preface of my Buddhist book again and had really taken note of some of the themes covered like “ be kind to yourself” or “ be kind to others” . I understood the first part. Even just saying you’re a Buddhist can sometimes make you feel at peace with yourself without the inconvenience of delving into the whole religion or reading a whole book on it.

So with this in mind I organised a second date. Ok, he wasn’t my type but he seemed like a decent guy, an upright kinda guy, boring, but wholesome. And more to the point I needed a boyfriend, mainly for something to do on weekends, and a way of saving money by not going out.Going out to pubs and clubs was very expensive these days, and I didn’t think I was any good at it anymore, I mean I was good at it, if anything too good at it, but the rules had changed whilst I wasn’t looking.

During the period when you’re a young teenager to your early twenties its all about getting as fucked up as possible on a night out, drugs, pubs, toilet cleaner, drinkin, smokin, fuckin, fags drinking!. The more crazy and wild you are the better; you are considered “cool” out on a limb, for being a complete fuck wit and wasting your life, the closer to the line you get, the cooler you are. Throughout this period I reigned supreme as one of the coolest people I knew. I was always the most fucked, and drunk at a party, I knew how to “av it”. As I had gotten older I had not changed, I was still binge drinking, getting completely out of it, and living for the weekends, but I could see the turn of the tide. It used to be behaviour that seemed so glamorous and cool previously, now seemed rather pathetic and desperate. All of my friend’s now sipped gin and tonics at small intimate house party’s and discussed their careers and were at home by 10.30pm. I had cottoned on to this shift rather slowly as I was always in some corner of these civilised gatherings, snorting pills off the TV and trying to pull my mate’s boyfriends.

These dating websites wasn’t t just about finding new men, it was also because I had ostracised myself from many of my friends and had just come to the realisation that the “party “ was over and I should try and get a bloke to stay in with where it was safe.