We all know that when we meet people from the site they don’t always look exactly how they do in their photos, or maybe in our exuberance we forget to look at the height section, but still!!
I get a lot of messages on the site, not always sensitive and intelligent and they mostly don’t get answered or go in the bin, so when I got a sweet message from a 30 year old I decided to investigate. His profile described him as 5’11’’ with a heart of gold. The photo was of a black African hunk leaning against a doorpost in a leather jacket. He was exactly as I like my men, tall dark and handsome, apparently with a brain. So far so good, he worked in the city in IT, not so great for a poet but heh he might be able to download a security system on my laptop, so give it a try. Oh and his name was James, I like the name James
We arrange to meet for dinner at a mutually agreed restaurant, the traffic is bad so a couple of texts fly around, it’s raining, I’m late. Finally I pull up outside the restaurant, looking around for my tall lovely date. I leap out of the car and I am face to face with………
…a 5’4 Middle Eastern Pixie called Mustapha, with waxed eyebrows.
My face must have been a picture as I’m really bad at hiding my feelings, you see I’m one of those too honest people who always say it like it is and then regret it later. To my credit all I managed to stutter was.
Me: You’ve waxed your eyebrows.
Him: ‘So?’ Is there a problem with that?
I could hardly say that his look of permanent surprise coupled with huge black eyes and a sloping forehead like someone out of an Egyptian tomb was beginning to freak me out.
Him I wax everything; I’m very in touch with my female side’
Is his next comment as he unbuttons his black shirt a little to show me his chest. We’re having dinner for chrissakes!
Euuoouuuu………..too much information, I like my men full of yang testosterone this one was definitely yin and bordering on completely female. Ok if I was gay I would be on a gay dating site.
He was putting me off my prawn sag and now I was getting a little angry, I hate liars.
Me: So why the subterfuge? Don’t you think its going to be rather embarrassing turning up for a date and looking totally different to your photo?
Him: Well my ex girlfriend is on the site and I don’t want her to know that I’m on it, I am much prettier than the black guy in the photo don’t you think?
No comment to that one , my writer’s curiosity gets the better of me and we chat about Middle Eastern culture, his ex girlfriend , his family, his origins in Doha,
(where the heck is Doha someone?)
After a couple of hours of this I’d had enough, time to head for the hills of SE London alone. Before I leave he fixes me with those huge hypnotic eyes and surprised eyebrows and asks.
Him: Well how shall we play this?
Me: How shall we play what?
Him: Shall we play it slowly and see how it goes, I don’t want to hurt you.. I know how men shag around but I’m not like that.
Oh my God, he thinks he’s pulled!!
Sorry Mustapha but I like my men tall and rugged, preferably honest and definitely without waxed eyebrows. Better luck next time but I suggest it’s a good idea to warn the ladies not to wear high heels before they turn up for their romantic evening with you.
If you think I’m mean in writing this, you’re right, but most of us ladies out there hate liars of any kind and it really isn’t a good start to an evening to turn up look at your date and think.
‘Who the hell is this?’.
Victoria Mosley (Siren Song) has two collections of poetry available from Amazon .co.uk The Dry Season (1998) Crazy Love (2002) and a cd downloadable from www.gargeband.com/artist/sublimes . She is currently editing her novel Angels Wharf., and researching her latest novel.
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