It's all come back to me. I now recall why I dislike the online dating websites so much. The usual ground rules that I follow of speaking truthfully and being reliable and down to earth don't seem to apply. Nor do conventions about sticking to dating people around your own age. Lord knows how old the 76 year old who viewed my profile really is. A friend said that it's fun to be seeking and obtaining attention from a myriad of men. I don't find it so. 'At least it's a boost to your self-esteem' I was counselled when I told someone that a twenty seven year old had been 'winking' at me, the preliminary sign of interest. But I'm content enough with myself not to require this. Any sense of being unworthy went out with the bathwater a long time ago. And I don't need an entire fan club. When it comes down to it I'm just after one person for mutual adoration. Hang the rest!
I'm also uncomfortable with the way that I'm making assumptions about others based on, not just their personal appearance but also the environment in which they took their profile picture. I'm rejecting people on the grounds of dodgy taste in wallpaper and upholstery. How shallow does that make me! Even so I can't help myself doing it.
Seemingly the problem is that a pen portrait and a few photos don't provide adequate or verifiable information. There's a lot to be said for meeting someone in person or maybe being introduced through a friend. Maybe I could forgive a style faux pas if I was convinced they were a half decent human. I've done so in the past. Oh well, Mr Metrosexual and Ruff Stuff are loving the intrigue at least. They live vicariously now they've settled down into routine domesticity together with the dog. Ruff Stu thinks I'm being way too coy. 'Just press lots of buttons.' he advised. What could possibly go wrong?!