Menu
Refine Your Search

10 Tips: If the Buddha gave Dating Advice.


5 Minute Read

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have the ancient wisdom of the Buddha to guide me through the dating process. I often refer to the book, If the Buddha Dated: A Handbook for Finding Love on a Spiritual Path, by Charlotte Kasl, PhD, for my relationship-seeking needs.

Thing is, if the Buddha did give dating tips, they might be a little confusing to us modern-day folks. That’s why I’ve put together this CliffNotes version of Charlotte Kasl’s dating tips—each with helpful translations. Turns out, on the spiritual path, the dating tips or “rules” can be surprisingly simple.

Source: 10 Tips: If the Buddha gave Dating Advice.

Through the Looking Glass…


1 Minute Read

My friend Svend once described me as “the most boringly heterosexual man I’ve ever met.” Which is fair enough, because although I’ve always been open in principle to the idea of sex with another man I’ve never felt the slightest interest or desire actually to do so.

Which meant that Josh was out of luck when we met up for coffee.

I’d thought I would be having coffee with a divorced mother-of-two called Jane. But Jane turned out to be Josh. Evidently my first foray into the world of dating after a fifteen-year hiatus wasn’t going to be quite as smooth as I’d envisaged.

Needless to say, sparks didn’t fly over cappuccino and double-decaf-macchiato with vanilla. After a few minutes of small talk, we parted ways. I’m still curious about who was really sending me those witty and amusing texts.

But at least we had met in real life. This business of face-to-face has, evidently, fallen out of fashion since the last time I was single and looking to mingle. Nowadays it’s all online flirting and swiping and tiny frequent jolts of dopamine which have replaced the magnificent avalanche of well-deserved mutual orgasms.

Melanie on Tinder did her undergraduate degree at Harvard which complemented mine from Oxford and she had nearly as many Masters degrees as I do and she was sane and lovely and funny and sexy and… after three days of increasingly steamy messaging back-and-forth revealed that she actually lives 1,892 miles from me. Her Tinder location being, sadly, untrue.

Then there were the several women on OKCupid who likewise seemed clever and funny and interesting and according to the OKC questions were very sexually compatible with my own predilections and preferences. I ended up sexting several and having phone sex with five of them, though the orgasms were all on their side. Of the three women who agreed to meet up with me in real life, however, all turned out to be very anxious about sexually transmitted diseases. Which enabled me to discover that talking about sex and having virtual sex have become substitutes for actually having sex. The fact that (a) as a middle-class person over the age of 22 your lifetime risk of getting an incurable STD is actually three times less than being struck by lightning, and (b) I can furnish a very recent full-spectrum blood panel showing that I’ve never had anything more serious than malaria, made no difference. Fear is the currency of the USA. So these clever and sexy and interesting women have become prisoners of a mass-manufactured fear that bears as much relationship to reality as any random statement by Donald Trump.

Years ago I read a story by the science fiction writer Isaac Asimov, the theme of which was a future in which people were so accustomed to living alone and interacting only via hologram that they could no longer tolerate the stress of being in the proximity of another human being. Apparently we’re nearly there.

After several more experiences I realized I had a taxonomy of Modern Modes of Dating:

  • com is for when you want dinner but no talk about sex
  • OK Cupid is for when you want dinner and some talk about sex
  • Tinder is for when you don’t want dinner but do want to talk about sex

Now at this point you’re probably thinking, “just another tedious piece of self-pity by yet another boring middle-aged man who can’t get laid.”

Yet nothing could be further from the truth, except the part about not getting laid. I’ve been delighted to discover that the world is full of interesting and funny and clever women, even if one or two of them may turn out to be overly-optimistic gay men. I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover that my online profiles receive far more interest that I’d ever have expected – men, after all, being ten a penny online. I’ve had many interesting virtual conversations with women who, despite the blanket of fear that covers the USA, have found they can channel their sexual energies through the virtual worlds of texts, instant messages, and voice communication. The virtual has replaced the real because it seems safer. As one woman told me without a hint of irony or sarcasm, “If you wanna touch a pussy, get a cat.”

Years ago I took my first multi-day hike into the wilderness with a couple of acquaintances. Our plan was to cover at least 20 miles per day which, given the huge elevation gains and descents, the rough terrain, and the unforgiving ground, was ambitious. My two friends found plenty to complain about: tired legs, sunburned skin, rubbing from the pack straps and hip-belt, blisters on the feet… But I hadn’t expected to be spared these inconveniences. In fact I’d expected rather worse. And that freed me up to enjoy the magnificence of the wilderness, the extraordinary silence, the vastness of the views from the top of 3,200 meter peaks. Since that first exploration I’ve gone solo into the wilderness many times and no matter how many mosquito bites or cuts and scrapes I’ve suffered, I’ve always felt the same sense of sheer delight at the unexpected pleasures nature offers if only you’re open to perceiving them.

I feel the same way about dating in 2016. Provided you don’t have any expectations, there are treasures to be found. I’m amazed by how many bright and funny and interesting women I’ve been interacting with. At work we’re all wearing masks but online we’re free to reveal to virtual lovers our truest selves and thus experience a strange kind of Great War trench camaraderie, something along the lines of: “Yes, this is bloody awful, but thank god we can share a mug of tea.”

And while it’s true that I’m probably not going to get laid, which in the old days was more or less the point of dating, it’s also true that there’s a different sort of pleasure in reaching out and encountering new minds.

Now if only I wasn’t allergic to cats…

Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places: Episode 5


1 Minute Read

He turned up in a scruffy t-shirt, unshaven, reeking of fags. His hair was well past his ears and looked, frankly, ridiculous. Welcome to the world of Fab Swingers. Last week I decided to go back to my spiritual home and logged into a site I hadn’t used for nearly a decade. Back in 2006-2009 I was a regular there and remembered having some good times with a handful of handsome, kinky men. Having zipped through Craigslist and Plenty of Fish in a couple of weeks, going on ‘Fab’ (as it’s known by its regulars) seemed the logical next step on my journey to find love in all the wrong places.

How wrong could wrong be? I was about to find out. Find love? I’d be surprised if anyone on Fab even gets laid, which surely is the point of a swinging site. Never have I seen so many disembodied penises in one place. I like a nicely shaped penis just as much as any straight woman but I’ve always preferred them attached to a body and a brain. These are penises seemingly without owners. Shaved penises. Circumcised ones. Penises that are curved and others that are long and straight. If you’re ever in a situation where you’re being asked to prove that not all penises have been created equal, you only need search by men on Fab. But where were the faces and bodies to accompany them? And why, for heaven’s sake, were the few profile pics on the site so, damn small? At my age, it’s hard enough to make out the features of a man on a 3”x5” print; never mind one that is just over an inch square.

The eternal optimist, I decided to give the site a go anyway. My heart was not really in it but the guy I arranged to meet lived within walking distance and, if you’ve learned anything about me by now, it’s that I don’t drive. Steve (not his real name) was bisexual, had a stall on Portobello and dabbled in photography. He also held a weekly swinging party at his house and Fab being a sort of Yelp for swingers, had reviews to prove it. ‘His blowjob was a bit lackluster,’ read one. ‘Must try harder next time.’ I’d seen his picture but it was so small and so blurry, he could have been a George Clooney look-a-like and I wouldn’t have been able to tell.

The meet was a disaster. We had very little in common and the tobacco smell wafting around my nose didn’t help either. When he complained about the price of the prosecco, “£7? Now I know why I don’t come here very often,” I knew we were going nowhere fast. Within 30 minutes I was out the door of the pub, having made an emergency call to a girlfriend. Within the hour, I was comfortably settled next to her in a comfy armchair at Picturehouse Central watching the real George Clooney on a big screen where I could make out all his lovely wrinkles and was feeling far better for it. When I got home I quickly deleted my profile off Fab. Enough of that nonsense!

It hasn’t been all bad. I did have a very nice time with a Tinder guy just recently. If I’m honest with myself, while he may not be perfect, he does tick the sexy, smart and fun boxes. Being a woman of discretion (hah!), I am not saying more than that. 😉 Sayonara for now and hope to see some of you at the Advantages of Age Launch party on the 23rd June! Click here for a FREE ticket. It’s going to be a good night.

Looking for love in all the wrong places: Episode 4


1 Minute Read

Week four (or five, I’ve lost count) of my quest to find love in all the wrong places and already I am exhausted, bored and frustrated. Gone are the halcyon days of the Internet, when online dating was self-selective and exciting. Back in the very early 2000’s, when far fewer people owned a computer than they do now, you could almost be guaranteed that anyone you met on an online dating site had a degree, and almost certainly worked in IT, Law or the Media. I have friends that I met over 15 years ago on dating sites that I’m still friendly with today. There was the very sexy war correspondent, the hilarious computer game’s writer, various lawyers and much more. I didn’t actually have sex with all of them but that wasn’t the point. They were interesting, articulate people that I would never have met in real life.

Contrast that to now when every man and his dog are online and the sifting process alone is enough to make me want to crawl under the duvet and never come out. Never mind that text-speak has become so ubiquitous, no matter what the age of the correspondent. Everyone online seems to think that it’s OK to spell “I” as i or “you” as u. It drives me crazy. I can almost forgive my university-educated son when he does it on his CV. It’s much harder to forgive a 50-something man who really should know better.

On the positive side, it’s easy to get a date. Some things never change, no matter what one’s age. Sure, it would help if I shaved 10 years off but I’m not that desperate… yet. Since my last post, I managed to fit in another date with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome before he flew off on holiday for a week. Since his return, he’s not been back in touch and the Internet being largely unpredictable, I suspect he has had second thoughts or found a new play pal. I can pretend not to care but I do. He was lovely, local and had potential. Not boyfriend material (too many issues) but in a would-you-like-to-come-over-and-chill-out kind of way. For a moment, I thought I’d found Mr. Right for Now. Now I’m waiting for some kind of closure while appreciating that is asking for the moon, especially from a person whom one has met on Craigslist. The goodbye chat, face to face, was pretty much de rigueur before the Internet came along; now everyone knows that if they don’t text you back, it’s over.

One of my new rules about online dating is to take myself off a new site within a week of going on. I post my profile; gather up all the responses from the men happy to see a newbie and then bugger off after securing a date or two. I don’t want to appear like the house that has been on the market for 3 months and clearly has rising damp or some structural issues. No way. I stayed on Craigslist just long enough to meet someone interesting and then I deleted my post and republished it on Plenty of Fish. Once there, I arranged and had one date with a fun guy working in the Arts and then deleted my profile once again. We spent a lovely, platonic evening together but after he confessed to sharing parenting responsibilities with his ex, I couldn’t see a future for us aside from as friends. I have no desire to spend my precious weekends with someone’s else’s child, having just seen my own off so recently. At 55, I have a pretty good idea of what I do and don’t want and being a stepmum to a toddler isn’t one of them.

Also, I have to ask myself, is blogging about my dating life again the right thing to do? I’m not 40 anymore. What if one of my potential paramours reads about my adventures and is not amused? Back in my swinging days, the boys I slept with used to get a real rise (!) out of reading about my adventures (especially when they were involved). But I’m no longer a swinger and I actually do want to meet a life partner… eventually. What I’m saying is that this may be my last column. Or not. You’ll just have to come back and find out. 😉

Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places: Episode 3


1 Minute Read

Well, what can I say? Just a few weeks ago, I was quite convinced that my sex drive had gone on a Victorian tour of Europe and had settled down somewhere in a bohemian hotel in Marrakech, having decided never to return. Then I went on a date with a handsome, dark stranger that I met off of Craigslist (yes, really!) that turned into a frenzied and passionate few hours in bed, reminding me of what I’d been missing. I’m not sure which Suzanne I prefer – the one with no libido or the one with the ravenous sexual appetite. Life being what it is – busy, unpredictable and full of surprises, we have not seen each other again. I am not tremendously bothered. As Doris Day once sang, ‘Que sera, sera.’

Amongst many of the advantages of age (and don’t let anyone tell you there aren’t any) is that I’m not pining or doing the weird, creepy, stalky stuff I used to do in my twenties. I haven’t just ‘happened’ to have passed by his flat, hoping he might be staring out the window and spot me. I’m perfectly prepared for the fact that our one encounter may have been just that – a very satisfying one night stand that got me back in the saddle.

In the meantime, my enthusiasm for craigslist has waned. I may have lucked out with Mr. Dark and Handsome but my one other date was a non-starter. Despite him revealing his Dom side (never a bad thing) and sending me a pic of his toy collection (a strap on, flogger, paddle and crop), I was not impressed when he then followed it up with the naked picture. I may come off sounding like a prude but gone are the days when I want to see a picture of a middle-aged, naked man, standing in front of his bathroom mirror, before we’ve exchanged bodily fluids.

While my own boys, now both in their twenties, have received their fair share of late night, drunken texts (millennials don’t seem to do the naked pic thing like baby boomers), even they have worked out that retaining an air of mystery is part of the game. It’s undignified and a little desperate when a fifty-something woman feels the need to send a naked pic of her not-quite-so-perky breasts to a fifty-something man, never mind the other way around. I prefer undressing in real rather than virtual life. It’s harder for either party to run away when you’ve both committed to getting naked in front of each other.

I’ve now deleted myself off Craigslist and moved onto another, free site to see whether Mr. Right for Now might be lurking there. So far, there seem to be disproportionately more single men that live in Bromley than the rest of the UK. It is not a place to which I would like to visit.

I’ve also decided that there’s no point beating around the bush. If I do want someone with whom to share life’s experiences or even just a glass of wine on a fairly regular basis (which would be good enough for now), I need to let as many people as possible know. And I mean everyone – from my hairdresser to the woman who stamps my post to my friends and casual acquaintances. I’ve seen friends rely on the digital world to deliver a partner and waste hours or even years of their life. Surely amongst my five hundred or so Facebook friends there has to be one who knows someone with whom I might be compatible.

So, there you have it. It has been three weeks since my quest began and I’ve had two dates, one shag and written about 85 emails (most no longer than a sentence or two). It’s still very early days and I’m still hopeful. Stay tuned for the next installment…

I Blame the Gin


1 Minute Read

A number of years ago, in my mid 40s, I fell madly, wildly, secretly, unrequitedly, sexually in love with someone half my age. I was stunned. I felt like David Byrne had taken residence in my head, dancing around singing, ‘How did I get here?’ My body was on fire. I was obsessed and had to work my way through it in small, insignificant steps. It was one of the most powerfully sexual, non-sexual, experiences of my life and it reminded me how much of a sexual being I am. How important sex has always been to me as a physical, emotional and spiritual act.

There were hideous days of sitting in the British Library trying to research my thesis (since abandoned) and being overwhelmed with words, poetry, prose; anything but the intellectual analysis I had signed up to deliver. I was earning my living as the Creative Director of a participative theatre, art and media charity which I had set up to create projects with and for communities. I had long been interested in Boal’s ‘Forum Theatre’ and I put together projects that I hoped would give children and adults opportunities to express themselves through the arts. The projects I loved and was proudest of were those where audience/participants developed new skills, confidence or created something unexpected. I sometimes worked with actors, taking shows into communities or schools, using forum techniques to start discussions and have audiences perform their ‘solutions’ to problems. My thesis was on developing criteria to evaluate participative arts, looking particularly at ‘The aesthetics of participation’.

AITN9556 In my spare time, I worked as site-specific and participative artist.   I had come from a performance background, but had long given up being a jobbing actor. I had considered that part of my life over. However, this new energy, this sexual energy, was so overwhelming strong, that it could only be played out in particular ways. I could either give myself over to it, pursuing the object of my desire, or I could attempt to temper my, by now almost impossibly urgent, feelings and rein my passions in through art. I chose the latter, starting a poetry blog and finding building that into a site-specific performance called “TIME=MONEY” a 1-2-1 intimate poetry performance which I took to the Brighton Fringe Festival in 2013, winning a ‘WINDOW’ award as a promising company. It was just me and an audience member, separated by a thin mosquito net, in a bespoke venue that we erected ourselves. My partner in the project, Immo Horn, acted as ‘front of house’ ushering people in and out. The performances were intense, direct and, I am told, weirdly sexy.

In the 2 years since that performance, I have moved on. My new show is called ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme, More: LOVE!’ I’ve gone from being separated from the audience by a mosquito net and speaking to them only in poetry, to doing a full facilitated 60min show, as myself, using my own name and singing, dancing and telling stories about my dating disasters.

The show is about learning to date again in your 50s. I turned 50 last year and slowly began to realise that the promised ‘post-menopausel disinterest in sex’ was not going to happen for me. In fact, it hasn’t happen to a lot of my friends either, many of whom are reporting the best sex with new partners who take the act of pleasuring their partners seriously. On the rare occasions I have had sex, it has been explosive. Intimate, connected, mind-blowingly great. Unfortunately, on all occasions, the people involved where unsuitable for long term partnerships. The last two, separated by months and months and months, were friends. One an ex-lover from my twenties. The other an acquaintance going through a protracted separation. The former was a gift, the latter sent me around the twist. I had known he was damaged. I had been speaking to him earlier in the night we hooked about opening his heart again. I was not planning on seducing him. I blame The Gin.HipstamaticPhoto-474668570.443658

I have also, despite an absolute aversion to dating, joined a dating site. To my frustration and amusement, I have had, sadly, to self-declare as a “dating disaster”. The person I was when I last dated no longer exists. The mechanisms for dating (meet in bar/club/through friends/shag/see if it works) no longer satisfy. There’s a whole new world out there of dating apps and dating sites. Dating sites have been around since the 90’s, so although it is not new, the ‘dial up/swipe right/booty call’ culture is. It is everything a sex loving, liberated woman like me should want. Yet, I am finding it difficult. I want my sex with integrity, but was completely put off when attending some Osho type workshop. All the men just looked like they wanted to stick their dicks into anything. Quite frankly, I thought I could have more fun at Joe’s Bar in Camden on a Sat night. Picking up men in bars is and always has been frighteningly easily. You almost don’t need to do much more that exist. I wanted to find a new way of meeting people that wasn’t just pure, blind, chemistry. I’d tried that. I’ve had a few long relationships, married, separated. I am still very close to my ex, emotionally and intellectually, though not sexually. We work together. I still love him in a filial and emotional way that means I don’t want to consider the normal heterosexist trajectory of basically destroying all aspects of one’s life and partnership together simply because one is no longer fucking. So, I am trying to see what it will be like to identify as polyamorous, though strictly I am not, as polyamoury normally means that you are having multiple relationships which are both sexual and emotional. However, right now, it feels like the best description that I have to go on.

It suits me better than ‘ethical non-monogamy’; no-one is asking me to be non-monogamous. I have always wondered if I could. I have always run into problems in relationships as one or the other of us wants to explore other relationships, but because we have been locked in monogamy, this has happened furtively, secretly and caused so much damage when the truth has outed. So for many years, I have tried to be another way in my relationship. I have given this sexual and emotional fidelity business as good a shot as I have been capable of. It hasn’t worked out very well for me.

I’m 51 yrs old now. I feel I have to try and create the relationships I want, right from the start. I don’t want to be told that I can’t enjoy the deep emotional intimacy I have with my ex, that somehow that part of my relationship will become irrelevant if (when!) I start seeing someone else. I don’t want to be involved in anyone else’s lies either. I don’t want to be part of someone else’s ‘dirty secret’ or their ‘shame’. I don’t want to be that person who breaks someone else heart when they find out about me. I want to see what happens if we try loosening things up and become more honest and true with each other. How much kindness and compassion can we throw at ourselves? At those we don’t know? At our lovers?

FOTZ0636When I started working on the show, “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme More: LOVE!” I had no idea how personal the content was going to be. I imagined that I could work as a ‘facilitator’ in the process, and keep parts of myself private and hidden away. During the course of developing the work though, stuff has happened. I’ve broken some of my own rules, I have car-crashed my own learning process. This is by far the most honest, open, warts and all, work I have ever done. While the poetry was showing my soul in a deeply intimate, sexy way, this show is much more honest. I don’t have a character to hide behind. I’m revealing things about myself I thought I would never disclose publicly.

As we are getting closer to the show opening, I am beginning to feel a real nervousness. Some of the content is just so private. Should it just stay that way? Why am I engaging in this ’emotional exhibitionism’? On the other hand, as the show uses live-chat, I am hoping that sharing some of my dating disaster history will free people up to share theirs. It is enormously exciting to me to have created a show where audiences can contribute if they choose. Since I have started the project, people have been disclosing the most intimate details of their dating lives to me. A lot of the stories are really funny. Or at least, they become funny once they are shared. Even if audiences don’t join the live chat, they can still participate in the singing, the dancing as they see me skating close to the thin edge of self-exploitation. How far can I go? Have I gone too far? In my personal life, I think I haven’t gone far enough. I have a rule book. It’s been updated in light of recent events. It goes like this:

The Rule Book

  • No one I work with. See reasons 2 and 3. I work in the arts. Often with gorgeous young people, who become my friends.
  • No friends who have not been your lover before. When it goes wrong, the whole friendship group is affected. In our 50’s – this is bad news. You can sleep with old lovers though. Just because you can. They feel familiar and safe and you know, if they are still around, it’s because you’ve had something real going on
  • No one under 35. Just no. Not because they are unattractive. But just no. I can’t bear the whole ‘Cougar’ thing. I detest being seen as a label.   If I meet someone under 35’s who I think I can make a relationship work with, I might. But not as an ‘experience’.
  • No one cheating on their partners. I’m done with dishonesty. Starting to date and starting to date people who are openly polyamorous has opened up the discussions with my ex about sex. I wish we had had these discussions years ago. It may have saved our relationship.

The Rule Book is no less coercive for being invisible. Last weekend, I went to a friend’s party. I didn’t know anyone there but her. I walked in and she said, ‘You are dressed quite tamely for you!’, and I was. A shin length, full skirted black dress. I thought I would have one drink and then go. Then I started dancing. Sometime in, there was this lovely young man dancing just around the edge of my space. Very unobtrusive. I asked him to dance with me. He said he had been waiting for me to ask. He was the most fantastic dancer. I am notoriously uncooperative at either following or leading at swing or blues or salsa. For some reason, it just worked between us. As I swirled, my dull black dress fell in waves about me and I became caught up in the magic and romance of the dance. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s just dancing.’ One woman came up to us and said, ‘The two of you look amazing dancing together.’   He was both damned good and responsive; the leading and following fell naturally to and fro between us. I couldn’t help imagining how wonderful it would be to slip my fingers underneath his shirt. However, I had noticed the ring on his finger. I reckoned, at his age, the reason his wife wasn’t there was because she was at home, maybe looking after the children.   I suspected he danced pretty well with her too. This could go no further. So, shortly before midnight, I said my goodbyes and took my leave before either of us did anything we could regret. I’m not saying he would have; I’m saying, I could have. The next day I really wondered about this. Why not just give myself a bit more license? Why so cautious and conservative? I can’t say that I have come up with any plausible reason why it is so. It is just what my soul needs right now.

So. I’m still out there looking. Looking for what? I don’t know. I guess I’ll know when I find it. Or maybe I won’t. In the meantime, “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme More: LOVE!”, an intimate, audience-collaborative show exploring themes of lust, love and dating with your clothes on opens May 6th in Brighton and on Sat 7th May we are having a party right after the show. Further showings on 27th, 28th and the 29th May. You can purchase tickets here. Or contact us on FB, gggmorelove, and join the conversation. I am going to need all the help I can refining and updating my rules.

© Debra Watson 2016

Debra Watson is a poet, performer, facilitator and director. http://www.gggmore.com

Photos Credit: Susanne Ballhausen

Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places: Episode 2


1 Minute Read

Placing a personals ad on Craigslist was always going to be a crapshoot. I knew that. I’d done it before, albeit in my forties, and it had led to some interesting as well as deeply unsatisfying experiences . It had turned up a few guys, for instance, who wanted to take part in a gang-bang in a swanky hotel room. I think they had not expected it to actually happen and I remember one guy, a notch above 30, who got carried away, saying “Suck that, bitch” as if he was the lead in a porn film. I had to tell him, in my very best Mary Poppin’s voice, to “be very quiet.” There was another man who took me to a lovely dinner at the Soho House Hotel and turned out to have a wandering eye, literally. He had one eye that just kept zooming off, in all directions. It was very disconcerting.

The first few emails I received in response to my latest ad were not terribly encouraging. There were two or three from men who had obviously not read my ad asking for someone my own age and were chancing it. One, a mere 27, sent me a picture of his lean, headless torso, just stopping at his unbranded underwear.

Craigslist Boy

There was another who spelled out something completely unintelligible using text message speak, always a worrying sign:

hi i saw ur ad on cl,,,i live in kilburn station jubile line,,183cm tall slim,43 years old. xxxxxxxx u can cal or find me on whatsapp

There was the man who was intrigued by my beauty, having not yet seen my picture and was a strong believer in quantum physics. Quite a few lived very far outside London, even though I had made it clear I was not a woman who wanted to travel far.

Frank (not his real name) was perplexed as to what I meant by ‘having tried swiping right and left.’ When I wrote back and said it referred to Tinder, he replied saying, “… it does frighten me a bit when I hear that a woman has been trawling places like Tinder.…I wouldn’t feel comfortable if I was sleeping with someone who was having multiple sex partners.” This being craigslist, a place frequented by men seeking sex for hire, I think the irony must have been lost on him. I, on the other hand, had not been laid in six months.

And then there was an older man, a philanthropist and former CEO, who invited me to his private member’s club for dinner, only to tell me 30 emails later, that he was married. Why he couldn’t have made that clear to me 29 emails earlier, is anyone’s guess. I had just about forgotten how many time wasters there are in online dating land when he dropped into my life to remind me.

Amongst the debris, however, a few possible gold nuggets have stood out. The banker, for example. At 42 still a bit too young, but within walking distance, handsome and someone with whom I might unwind over a drink nearby. He has potential.

A designer with his own small agency who likes jazz and lives in North London, on a tube line just on the edge of Zones 2/3 , seems interesting too.

A couple of dates have been put in the diary and I’m open to the possibilities. Watch this space.

Show me more
Surprise Me

Hear more from us

Subscribe to our newsletter