Big Willy Style

Unfortunately, this blog has nothing to do with Will Smith. Shame, really. That would’ve made it a nicer experience!

No, in this case, the willy is connected, literally, to a man who thought that revealing his appendage in an aroused state would win me over. Reader, the experience left me questioning whether online dating is a place where any normal men can be found.

Here’s what happened….

I typically look for guys around my age but when a younger man sends you a flattering message you’re going to explore it further. After all, I’ve come across a few couples where there is a significant age gap, but it doesn’t make a jot of difference. But you need a lot of luck on your side for that to be the case!

So when a tall (6’6”), strapping 30-year-old man - let's call him Pete - sent me an email telling me how gorgeous I was, I thought, ‘Well, why not?’. 

We emailed back and forth – he tried to heat things up too early (like, 6 dates too early), but I managed to cool him down. I wasn’t about to have 'stext' with a man I hadn’t even spoken to on the phone. Although these days, my attitude is probably deemed to be old fashioned (tragically).

Giving Pete benefit of the doubt, I managed to get him on to the topic of favourite films and things continued to flow quite well, so it made sense that he suggested continuing our chat on WhatsApp. I sent him my number.

Ping. Within 1 minute his first WhatApp message came through. In fact, it was a head shot of him posing in a ‘sensuous’ manner on his bed. Although I could only see from the shoulders up, it’s pretty obvious that he was, at the very least, shirtless. Sadly for Pete, however, it was the kind of pose that only a high budget, professional advertising photo shoot could get away with. Selfies like this just make you look weird. Even David Beckham couldn’t get away with it without specialist lighting, tons of make-up and hours of Photoshop.

The alarm bells kicked in (online dating jargon for ‘what the hell?’). What had previously been flirtatious communication had suddenly become a blatant come-on. But it was nothing compared to what was to arrive on my phone next.

Being the ever-hopeful single gal, I texted back, but with an innocuous message: 'Hello, you!'. I tried to bring it back on to a more mature and less 'sexy' level. And I hoped to get back to words, not pictures - after all, we were both over 5 years old and capable of reading and writing.

Ping. Another image. But as the photo revealed itself (it takes a few seconds for a full image to load), I knew this was a head shot of a different kind.

Somewhere in his prehistoric mind he thought that sending a picture of his erect penis was part of the courtship dance. I don’t think even wildlife does that sort of thing. Birds at least puff out their feathers first. If this man was wildlife, he’d be wondering why the female peacocks (no pun intended) were running in the opposite direction. Too much, waaaaay too soon.

But just to make sure I got the message, he then wrote: ‘i’m in bath. do u want to join me?’

A shiver went down my spine…I do have some standards. His use of lower case at the beginning of each sentence made me so angry.

I jest (sort of).

I was stunned but not surprised. Only in online dating is it possible to experience contradictory feelings at the same time – and that’s in 99% of cases.

I felt that I’d been slapped between the eyes, by a…well...by a big penis. Now, let me clarify that it’s never happened to me in real life, but I imagine it would leave you in a 'what-just-happened-there?' sort of daze.

My only response at the time (my wit had been temporarily silenced) was: ‘Sorry. Not my sort of thing’. And a true gent to the end, he replied: ‘lol. get over it.’

With that charming message, I decided he was an aggressive idiot and closed the app.

But after some reflection I decided to respond. My devilish streak was emerging and I couldn’t let it go without giving him a shock in return. But knowing this guy’s intellect was nowhere near his brain, I made a smart move. Mind you, we’re not talking Mi5-mission level, folks.

I texted him to ask if I could use his photo on my blog; it would increase traffic to my article and help bring my story to life for my readers. I was simply applying my journalism training.

Within seconds his reply arrived: “NO! Please don’t use it, please don’t.” Ah-ha, gotcha! Maybe he suddenly realised that his teenage antics had left him massively vulnerable. He’d told me his name and his occupation, and in our rather small town, that made him very identifiable (this is of course assuming he wasn’t lying but I doubt he had the foresight). Of course, I wouldn’t have done it, but it was too tempting not to put the wind up his tail.

I guess my message was, don’t mess with us ladies – show us some respect. And if you’re going to do the online equivalent of approaching a lady in a bar and waving your erect willy at her, you’ve got to be ready to handle the consequences. But he’d clearly stopped short of thinking of an exit strategy and had well and truly been caught with his trousers down.

 

Since I couldn't get the owner's permission to use the photo in question, here is a substitute (so you'll just have to use your imagination).

Due to popular demand - the blog is back!

Single Stories are good stories - it seems.

Due to popular request among friends, my witterings and rantings about dating have returned with full force - to amuse and mystify you all! Previously known as 'The Spinster Diaries', I've relabelled it to make it inclusive of other people's tales. So, please contribute any 'interesting' dating dramas that you wish to purge from your soul. Yes, it can get that bad.

My blog also, rather selfishly, serves as an outlet for my frustration and disbelief that internet dating has actually worked for some people, yet it’s not even come close to successfully matching me or many of my friends. (And before you ask why - we’re all bloody gorgeous. We haven’t got two heads or anything. It’s just that dating can suck – BIG time.)

Somehow, ranting with friends on WhatsApp or over a glass of Pinot just doesn't scratch that itch. I need to get it out there, into the ether.

Unfortunately for me, I continue to gather more than enough material to fuel my blog. Sometimes, I wonder whether the Universe wants me to stay single so I can entertain other people with tales of disaster: men looking for affairs, men asking if my 'ass is big', men sending photos of their aroused nether regions. Yes, you read that one correctly.

I continue to try to be a good Brownie and be all ‘zen’ about single life. But at 41, it gets more exasperating to find that proverbial needle hidden among bales and bales (and bales) of hay. In fact, I wonder if it keeps moving - that crafty needle-swine.

As I grow older and, I like to think, wiser, it seems that men on dating sites seem to get younger and younger, with no sign of ever grasping the basic principles of dating etiquette. Otherwise known as ‘treating a woman with respect’. You’d think that was pretty straightforward. I sense many single women nodding their heads madly as they read this, thinking,'God yes. Been there.' Disclaimer: I know there are many single women on dating sites who are are just as idiotic. This isn't a man-slating opportunity - it's just based on personal experience.

Dating is difficult.

Before you begin to read my latest experiences, let’s make one thing clear. I’m bitter. Yes, people, that’s right. I’m embittered and sometimes saddened that for no apparent reason I’m one of the women still looking for a guy, who: 1) I find attractive, 2) Doesn’t fancy himself as a player, 3) Isn’t a total loony, 4) Has more the say than, 'Hello, is your ass big?' (probably because I'm Caribbean/ British dual heritage and white men think it's a very important thing to ask).

Imagine my annoyance that despite trying my whole life to be a respectful, thoughtful person (I’ve had the occasional slip-up but really don’t think I’ve ever been so selfish that I’ve hurt someone deeply), yet it's rarely returned in the dates I experience. Sometimes it just doesn't make sense. 

So, that’s partly where I’m coming from.

Dating is D.U.L.L.

My friends who’ve been in relationships for more than five years seem to think that it’s exciting. Firstly, we’re not in our 20s or early 30s any longer. It was fun then. But that was because we consumed much cheap vodka and indulged in weekend after weekend of house parties and pub crawls. And we were all naïve enough to think that romance lasted - that optimism fuelled our fun.

In the early 40s, dating is an endless round of bland events that see us singles drag ourselves from our homes to sit for an hour or so with a person we have nothing in common with. Then you get back in your car and drive home. That’s it. That’s the reality. Butterflies in the tummy? Nope. Anticipation of what might be? Er, no. The potential that I’ll be swept off my feet? Hahahahahahahaha. Sorry, let me just pick myself up from the floor after laughing myself off the chair.

Hope springs eternal.

Despite the failed dates, offensive emails and requests for affairs that I’ve received on dating sites, somehow my faith remains that there's a greater plan that is steering this rough course. And that one day it will lead me to the right man. And although I sometimes yearn for a partner in crime, I’d rather be single than with the wrong person – and I’ve seen plenty of those situations over the years.

So, grab that flare, sick bag and quick-inflating dinghy. You're coming with me as I navigate the dating game. Stormy weather is, unfortunately, inevitable.