The Faint Whiff Of Desperation

The term is over, I have some time on my hands and I don’t really meet many girls that I’d like to date (none, truth be told) at my college.

[Before you suggest I look inwards: Ruskin girls are, broadly speaking, a bit too much of the roll-ups, ill-considered radicalism and the generally overly hirsute variety for my liking.]

Whilst sitting at my desk I was conscious of hearing a Match.com ad on Spotify, whilst into a heavy Def Leppard session. Why not, I thought? After all, all you are paying for is someone else to use a technology platform to aggregate a bunch of folks in the same boat. Sounds very logical in the cold light of day and it reduces the chance aspect somewhat as it is merely an aggregation and basic sorting service. But oh no, it isn’t that. It is a way of collecting all the people we don’t even realise are out there into a seething mass of weirdness. That and a few of us fringe normals. Like moths to a lightbulb the weirdoes seem to have flocked here.

But before I explain about what makes them weird, the Match.com people need a mention for their callous exploitation of the eagerness of their customer base. They must coin it in so monetising their service is not hard when you charge people looking for love. After all, I paid up but now keep hearing this in my head – “I’d buy that for a dollar“. Visions of the Match team laughing at yet another hopeful.

The platform feels about five years out of date – a lifetime in Internet terms –  and little thought or investment in the GUI has been made. It is clunky, inconsistent across platforms and a pigging nightmare to use. It remembers little, refreshes in an untimely manner and shows a general contemptuous towards customers. If Twitter, Facebook , iTunes or Google were even half as bad they would have tanked by now.

I want to up my chances of finding a similar person to me. One that I gel with, have fun with etc etc. I am, however, pragmatic. This is reducing the randomness and increasing the odds, sure, but expecting something different because a bit of tech has been involved? Many of the people on this seem to think that the magic of the silicone chip is either to be feared or it gets invested with power it doesn’t actually have. Let me e x p l a i n … computers are just really really really fast calculators that handle Ones and Zeros at speeds you can’t imagine.  This means we can give them more complex tasks like removing the non-sport participants from my search, calculating BIG sums fast etc, that’s it.  They cannot match you with The One. The whole vibe feels pre-scientific revolution when belief in magic was a big thing.

But back to the weirdoes though. I have emailed with and met a few of the normal ones and they have shocking stories to tell regarding the guy to girl requests. From total strangers; please could you post me some tights that you have worn and haven’t washed? Please can you send me a picture of your arse, just your arse? Please can you send a photo of you naked and smoking? And so on and so forth. I didn’t think I was particularly shy or repressed. However, I am sadly lacking in a decent brass neck so I can’t imagine treating a woman in such a degrading manner. I cringe. I guess that is what comes from being raised largely by my mother or perhaps it is just manners?

I have yet to meet someone face to face that I have really hit it off with. I have made a couple more like-minded girlfriends, which is nice. I do not go into an encounter expecting the magic of the silicon chip to have sprinkled the Internet fairy dust around ensuring that if the computer says we are compatible, then there will be sparks, fireworks, swooning, tumbling into bed locked in a sweaty embrace etc etc. (I think I may need to go and lie down for a moment. Do excuse me)

I can’t speak for other chaps but allow me to dispense a little advice regarding some of the pitfalls when creating profiles. This is not exhaustive but just my own simple observations from one week of using the site:

  • If you are on Match to find a partner then how about making an effort with your profile?
    • Pictures – decent full length ones. We are all judges of others by appearance first. We all have a type. This is science speaking.
    • Put several up. No picture = no look. Simples.
    • Not grainy selfies that have been screwed with in Instagram. What are you trying to hide and why?
    • More than three pictures. Really, lack of openness starts alarm bells ringing.
    • Focus – obviously a novel and elusive camera feature for many. Blurry = hiding stuff.
    • Fill out the entire profile. it’s what it’s there for. I am an atheist. If you are a devout Catholic then lets both smile and move on. I do not appreciate being hooked in to find out you are, in my opinion, a lunatic.
    • Use the phase, “to be honest”. I’d fucking hope so. Now I am left wondering what you may not be being honest about.
    • Curvy is not how I’d describe clinically obese. Athletic and toned does not count if you think seeing a piece of exercise equipment from afar occasionally means you are an athlete and Very Attractive? Not vain at all are we?

 

  • Here is selection of a few of the astonishing remarks on some profiles:
    • I basically work to live – hmm, illiterate AND boring. Goody.
    • Curling up in front of a log fire – if suburbia had this many log fires then I’d expect to see much more smoke belching from suburban chimneys of an evening. Just to be clear this is in the top five most overused clichés.
    • I don’t like reading books – goes well with the next one…
    • I love watching soap operas. KMN for both.
    • I’m possessive – this reads, “and in my spare time I refine my bunny boiling apparatus”
    • My friends say etc etc – possibly my all time pet peeve. If you lack the ability at 40 to be self-aware enough to write about yourself and instead have to rely on a biased audience for comment then shame on you.
    • Basic grammar mistakes. They and they’re etc etc… If you are wondering what the others may be, then it’s you.
    • Eating out – who doesn’t enjoy a nice meal out? Do you mean Nando’s or Le Manoir aux Quat Saisons.
    • And travel – oh my god, trying to sound so very cosmopolitan by levering travel in. Travel is good and it broadens the mind but nearly every profile has it and most read like a list of places to go before you kark it. Just sounds a bit contrived.

At the risk of sounding even more like Mr. Angry – and I had to work myself into a proper froth to write this – do fill out your profile, don’t lie, don’t obfuscate, don’t try to pretend to be someone you are not, put some decent informative pictures up. What do you expect if you are crockfulla shite? Similar respect is likely to be accorded in return. It’s just a pre-selection service. Get over it. And when I make the effort to send you an email after trawling through the scammers (oh yes, you are very obvious), sparsely written, and grasping ones then at least have the decency to send a one-liner saying thank you for making the effort but no. Back to manners I guess.

 

PS: Some good comments – read on.

New Breakthrough In Breakfast Awesomeness

Fans, loyal followers, seething masses, all three of you. I am about to share a revelation in scrumptiousness. You heard it here first. Remember where you were when you read this so you can tell your kids. Yah di yah di yah….

Take 250ml (1/2 a large one) pot of Waitrose Low Fat Greek style yogurt. Slice a banana into it. Take a large desert spoon sized dollop of Waitrose Seriously Zesty lemon curd. Mix together vigorously and behold. You, my friend, are poised on the edge of epicurean delight.

Take the same spoon and get your laughing gear around a massive mouthful. The greedy size  you can only eat when on your own. Repeat until finished. Scrape every last remaining yogurty lemony morsel from the pot. Use your finger to get remaining dregs as much  as you can.

Mmmm…

Revolutionary Secrets Revealed

It’s not often that I’ll throw food away that I have bought, especially cake. However,  I think I may have unwittingly stumbled on the secret weapon that the Ukrainian people have used to prosecute their revolution.

To explain; today there was a food fair put on by the various Oxford International Societies so as a loyal member of IRSoc I scooted up there to show solidarity, by eating their food. Having done a lap of the hall to see what was on offer I decided to eat from stalls representing places I have never been. I settled on a Jamaican Lamb Patty that was gorgeous but lacked authentic hot sauce (wtf?) to drown it in.

Having a bit of spare space in my tummy I sidled over to the Ukrainian stall and partook of a delicious herring and beetroot w. potatoes concoction.  I was then further seduced by the sight and sound of a Sour Cream Cake that had an impressive layered construction, so I parted with a further two quid. I didn’t realize that it is actually intended for disabling armoured vehicles, such was its density. Initially I thought it was a rather parsimonious portion for my £2. How wrong I was as the plate sagged in my hand and the plastic fork splintered when I tried to cut a piece off. However, I wasn’t going to let a mere mechanical failure deter me from eating my cake so with some effort I hoicked the piece up and after several mouthfuls conceded defeat and binned it. It made a rather disturbing thump when it bottomed out in the bin.

As I left the last thing I saw as I glanced over my shoulder was the sight of some poor chap trying to lift out the bin-liner to replace it with an empty one. Poor chap, it looks like several people before me had had the same idea. His back, my tummy.

God Hates Atheists

The onset of winter brings the inevitable start of perennial rounds of man-flu. Usually it times itself to coincide w. the start of a holiday, a fact that can be explained by my atheism. It’s a well known fact that God hates us and he/she/it has singled me out to be a particular bastard to. I mean, why wouldn’t he/she/it? Us Atheists are easy targets because there are relatively few of us amongst the population, so it must be a target-rich environment for a vengeful deity.

To ensure I am being totally accurate in my assertion I must check with my favourite Atheist – a Northern farm boy – if he feels similarly picked on. Possibly just a persecution complex of mine but two of us ought to constitute a scientific fact. Any fule knos that.

Let me demonstrate what I mean about bad science: I was asked for a hot-toddy by a colleague the other day and was then upbraided for making it w. boiling water because, and I quote here, “you’ll kill the all the vitamins in the lemon juice”. When I tried to explain that vitamins are a chemical entity and not living things I was met w. a pitying look, a resigned headshake and the pronouncement that it was a well known fact, go look on the internet. That’s me corrected then. I started to protest by invoking boring things like science etc and was then struck by the saying, “Never argue with an idiot as they’ll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.” I was going to point out that it is possible to remove the vit-C w. boiling water, but providing one drank said water you’d still get it. The facts are just so boring when they contradict folklore.

Right-ho. Cancelled my tutorial and now need whisky, honey and lemons for hot-toddy. Am off to Google some facts, pray for good health and murder some vitamins.

Fish Fingers

I was eating fish fingers and couldn’t think of a title ok? FYI they are best eaten in large quantities (6+) with a nice pinkish swirling of ketchup and mayo. *Burp*

Moving on; I was in quiet repose with a cup of coffee this morning when I had a sudden wave of guilt for not posting for a while. This usually passes as this one nearly did. That is until I sat down with a stack of the aforementioned and went through my email to find that a friend had sensibly upgraded her domain to direct to her blog, when I see that Idleness is listed as a suggested read.  Interestingly I reside beside my ex’s blog. She is a far more accomplished writer IMHO so if you have stumbled here from Moon Landings (another ex from long long ago and a very sound lady. Employ her, you won’t regret it) then I suggest you read some proper decent English and go to Musings From The Sofa.

Still here? Right then, a small catch-up. Car sold to Harold and Albert. Heard of dirty money? This lad paid nearly ten grand in the dampest, stinkiest twenty pound notes. You know how the bank counts notes by weighing them? No chance as these were too damp. And smelly. Really really smelly. The cashier was not thrilled at having to hand count the entire lot.

Uni starts in less than a week and I am apprehensive and anticipatory in equal measure. Like most things I have imagined they rarely turn out to be as elaborate as that which I have designed and constructed in my mind. I am expecting to be surrounded by a load of Marxists who think that the Labour Party is a load of centre ground sell-outs. This view has been based upon one meeting I attended where there was a proper swivel-eyed loon who was too easy to goad (I resisted). Good value in small doses as he firmly believed that PR companies, whatever their size, existed solely to put a glossy spin on the exploitation of a firm’s workers. All points were made with much finger jabbing, bulging eyes and a final, if repetitive, verbal flourish of advocating revolution as the only credible answer. To everything. I then got a reading list, which contained some *ahem* interestingly presented arguments. Finally, the list for societies to join during Freshers week has a certain bent. I have no truck with the People of Palestine yet nor do I wish to overtly show friendship by enrolling with the Friends of Palestine. I can only imagine the meetings; The People’s Front For The Liberation of Judea anyone? Still, Freshers Week proper is the following week. I’ll see if there is a bourgeois socialists Porsche driving wine appreciation society, or similar. Additionally I can’t wait for my Bod Card as it means 1yr of swimming is £80. Bargain. All that aside I am looking forward to it immensely and wondering about the right time to deploy red trousers and moleskin jacket.

Living life in reverse is what I have dubbed my existence now. I am a bicycle only student with a bar job where I am surrounded by beautiful people half my age that seem to live a work, drug and alcohol fuelled existence. It’s a funny mix as I refuse to live in the typical student hovel, my girlfriend is a grown-up with a proper job and a dog, I look at drugs and think “yeah, been there, not anymore,  thanks for your kind offer” in a genuinely polite way as offering ones stash to strangers is nothing if not generous and costly.

Am five days away from another juddering change of direction. To put it all in perspective Heloise casually asked me during breakfast the other day, “Daddy, where is the edge of the universe?” We jointly decided that our entire universe was but a single atom in the universe of another little girl.

Israel ’s New ‘Cutting Edge’ Airport Security

TEL AVIV, Israel :—

The Israelis are developing an airport security device that eliminates the privacy concerns that come with full-body scanners. It’s an armoured booth you step into that will not X-ray you, but will detonate any explosive device you may have on your person.

Israel sees this as a win-win situation for everyone, with none of this crap about racial profiling. It will also eliminate the costs of long and expensive trials.

Imagine that you’re in the airport terminal and you hear a muffled explosion. Shortly thereafter, an announcement: “Attention to all standby passengers, El Al is pleased to announce a seat available on flight 670 to London. Shalom!”

Porky Porn

I was looking at my blog stats a few days ago. It is a short look as there ain’t that many people that want to read my demented ramblings. Nonetheless, I trip onto the list of most used search terms that bring people to my blog and you’ll never guess what they are so I’ll tell you: Naked Men In The Shower, and about twenty different iterations thereof. The rest of the terms are so few they are lumped into an uncategorised group called General or somesuch.

I knew when I entitled a post Naked Men In The Shower, as a rather tongue in cheek poke at the high level of sexual use of the internet, that it may generate a little more mistaken interest . I didn’t realise that I had unwittingly plumbed such a vein of special interest. So hi ho, t’internet is a funny ‘ole thing, which in itself isn’t a shocker. For my innocent and pure mind I was surprised, still, at the level of specialisms that are catered for. Puts me in mind of a quote about purity that I learnt from MFTS. “I’m like Snow White, but I drifted.”

Let me relate a little story that happened to a friend. Really, it did happen to a friend. Gary runs a very funny and rather infrequently updated blog called How Do In Bialskishire, about life and goings on in his small rural Lancashire village. He has throttled right back as the deeper he gets into village life the harder it is to comment as an outsider. Being a connected sort of fellow as well as being a farmer on a smallholding a friend shot a mobile phone video of him attempting to ride this rather humungous sow.

Gary suddenly received an inexplicably high number of hits – 5k+ – on this silly little video he had posted for the amusement of some friends. A bit of digging into it and he made a startling discovery. It was hot, he was a shirtless farmboy and apparently there is a specialist interest in, and I quote, “Sitting Down”. So quite innocently Gary and his sow became  a feature video on a gay porn fetish site. Who’da thunk it?

It rather trumps dudes in the shower.