Mr Lounge Lizard

53 years old; single; antiques dealer; always on the look out for a unique piece (of ass!)
The Date
A drink at a Mayfair Gentleman's private members club. Mr Lounge Lizard is engulfed in a Red Chesterfield Wing Back Arm Chair clutching a humongous G+T, probably not his first by the looks of his flushed face and silly grin as I rock up to greet him. Mr Lounge Lizard is wearing red cords, yellow socks, brown suede loafers with gold snaffle, blue pin stripe shirt, a paisley cravat...he looks old, weathered, battered so is well suited to the world of antiques! This man is need of some restoration me thinks. He tells me about his shop on the Kings Road and his clients that he has built up over many years of wheeling and dealing. An antique is an item over 100 years old, he tells me, however recently, certain dealers are considering 50 years as a benchmark for an item to be is considered Antique. So he is himself a potential antique I quip...he laughs...! There's talk of the differences between antiques, vintage pieces and collectibles. In Mr Lounge Lizard's opinion antiques are over 100 years old, collectibles over 50 years old and vintage pieces, the term he tells me, originally applied to the age of a bottle of wine, it was hijacked and is now used to describe an item that has cycled back into fashion or is less than 25 years old. 25 years old. Mmm...maybe I can transcend this theory to my next dates Mr Vintage and Mr Collectible...Mr Antique....are there any men on the dating circuit over 100 years of age or would that result in a date with a difference at an old people's home or warden assisted housing for a liquid lunch....maybe a step too far. He is a little eccentric and seems to have an overzealous saliva duct production culminating in a wet grin, not dis-similar to a jowly boxer dog...Turner and Hooch styley!! So it seems that this is Antiques Roadshow meets American Gigolo meets last of the Summer Wine. Mr Lounge Lizard has perfected the gliding manoeuvre from said leather armchair to bar...a bit like the air hockey game that you get at the UCI cinema complexes, or maybe he's just pissed! Yes I think that is the case as his conversation skills are plummeting at a rate quicker than HBOS shares and he is now unknowingly doing an expert impression of Tommy Cooper...slurring fashion..."Just Like That!" Time to leave the old reptile to it...something tells me Mr Lounge Lizard spends most afternoons/evenings in this bar, ahead of Stringfellows and that the little antiques shop on the Kings Road is probably open mornings only....as I leave the bar, I glance back to Mr Lounge Lizard and it dawns on me David Dickinson...it's not him....but it could be! Still searching.....for that unique antique of a man who is in MINT condition...is he out there???

Mr Middle Manager

41 years old; divorced; public school boy; sales and marketing manager; energetic; enthusiastic; sporty; sociable; competitive; too busy for emails cuts to the chase and requests a schmeeting!!!
The Date
I meet Mr Middle Manager for a breakfast meeting as he has a super busy schedule as he and his team are right bang smack in the middle of a profits drive and it is HIS priority to WIN! Mr Middle Manager is dressed in a high street suit and tie combo that puts the colour blind to shame. I mean I really could do with some blinkers to soften the garish eclectic mix of patterns and colours! Is this power dressing for the businessman of 2009? Or does this guy get dressed in the dark each morning!!! Oh my gawd, I look down...is he wearing school shoes? His shoes appear to have a thick robust sole, laces and are very shiny! We greet with a handshake...Mr Middle Manager exercises his authority with a power knuckle crushing hand shake...he is one step away from leaping on the floor and having a full blown arm wrestle with me...this guy takes competitive to a new level! We sit down, order coffees and croissants and then Mr Middle Manager lays his cards on the table....well actually not his cards, his not 1...2....3 but 4 mobile phones and blackberry...crackberry devices...in case of a crisis call from the team at HQ! He tells me his IT man is totally incompetent and he has issues trying to divert old numbers to his new devices. He has a clip on his belt so he is always contactable 24/7 365! This to him refelects committment to the business! Is that his corporate pen I see peeking at me from behind his breast pocket...back to incompetent people...Mr Middle Manager cannot tolerate those around him who are useless and incompetent! he does not suffer fools he informs me...mmm...no comment this is coming from a man who is still having his feet measured and wearing Clarks shoes!!! He takes pride in telling me that his team work WITH him not FOR him and that's how he gets results! Mr Middle Manager announces...that he doesn't do job titles...he is a manager...a trainer...a coach..a mentor...just as he asks me a question about my work...his mobile starts to ring...apologies from Mr MM but this could be mission critical as he's been expecting a key call from the Board and as he steps away from our table...I roll my eyes and wait then I hear Mr MM tell his mother that he is in a very important meeting and he will call her later and the cat is convalescing well...he returns. He tells me about the projects he is currently heading up and the impact his involvement will have on the company margins and morale and how a promotion is imminent...not that he is driven by power...status...title...as he so ingrained in the concept of TEAM as he says there is no ME in TEAM! There is no ME in this meeting...only Mr Middle Manager. As we wrap up, Mr Middle Manager hands me his business card with his chest puffed up like a peacock. I ponder whether I should have prepared an agenda for today's brekkie schmeeting although no doubt Mr Middle Manager would be looking for the follow up items and minutes by lunchtime. As far as I'm concerned all items have been covered and there are no action points! Still searching...

Mr Detective Inspector CID

55 years old; copper turned detective; short; moustache; smoker; drinker; bit of an ego; authoritative; Surrey man about town; married 4 times!!!
The Date
Mr Detective rocks up resembling what can only be described as Milk Tray Man, mission impossible; mid life crisis; I am doing all I can to look 20 years younger, hip and trendy! BLACK is the colour of the day for Mr Detective is wearing black jeans, black polo neck; black loafers...do I detect a tassel on those shoes...oh yes I do! Black leather jacket, one size too small. He has gel in his hair and wreaks of aftershave...where are the chocolates...mmm I'm partial to an orange creme or turkish delight...shame no sign of a box of choccies...just a black wallet and a jangling set of keys. Let's hope he hasn't a warrant to search me!!! Eye contact with Mr Detective is instantly intense...I think he fancies me and I feel very edgy, oh no I'm blushing! Now he's going to think I'm attracted to him...WRONG Sergeant Pepper! He also seems devoid of the concept of personal space and is in my face, well chest really as he is shorter than me. Right off we go for lunch...on him he hastens to add. Mr Detective has been in the police for over 25 years...he seen it done it breathed it coached it arrested it charged it cross examined it interrogated it forensically found it sent it down. He tells me about some gruesome rapes and murders and abuse cases. All very appetising pre luncheon conversation! I notice Mr Detective is necking the red wine. This guy is a drinker! He tells me about his 4 wives...Wife 1 he was 19 years old, she was pregnant and they were far too young. Wife 2 a passionate Italian that stole his heart and money lasted 3 years. Wife 3 couldn't hack his work schedule...long hours..being on call...she felt neglected and he felt up the local bar maid most evenings after work, reading between the lines! Wife 4 still married to her but it turns out they've had a big argument recently and she's thrown him out! He is currently residing at the Police House licking his wounds and awaiting wife 5 maybe - is that where I fit in I ponder with anxiety! Time to call 999!!! Mr Detective proceeds to get absolutely smashey poo-ed through lunch, and the tables really take a turn for the worse when he announces he has suffered an anal tear!!!! Am I hearing things? I look down at my gourmet minced beef burger and cannot go on. I really don't want to know how he has sustained this injury. Some things should remain a mystery and some crimes are left unsolved and this date with the Sweeney is over. Blue flashing lights...still searching!

Mr Subway

32 years old; Canadian living in UK; single; bright; fit; sporty; looking for fun?
The Date
Mr Subway is waiting for me. I'm 15 minutes late. He is dressed in designer jeans, white T shirt, pink jumper and battered leather jacket. He looks very boy band...high school fantasy guy...mild stubble...utter trouble..we greet and head for the bar. Small talk ensues. I hate this..polite conversation, curtailed by pub punters in close proximity...so I suggest meeting him in the beer garden. He rocks out with the drinks. So he asks me to guess what he does for a living...he offers 5 questions to me and will provide only yes or no answers...here we go I think! Q1 Do you create something? A1 Yes, sort of! Q2 Is your company American? A2 Yes Q3 Can I eat or drink your product? A3 Yes Q4 Are you on the high street? A4 Yes Q5 Are you Macdonalds, BK or KFC? A5 No! BOMBED!!! Mr Subway offers a question 6...well a statement 6...the company is 2 syllables...I am stumped...erm...think..nope...have to ask him....SUBWAY....he is SUBWAY....Subway Melt...Veggie Patty...Chicken and Bacon Ranch and Meatball Marinara!!! Ringadingding...I have to tell him I'm not a Subway Subscriber to be honest...I've been once...for a meatball ensemble with baguette...he looks perplexed....however Mr Subway has done well, 32 years old, running 60 stores in the UK for SUBWAY...he is charming, bright, engaging, charismatic. We talk about me for a while...then we get distracted by a village boat race for the older generation. I dare Mr Subway to join in with a packet of Marlborough lights and a stick as a sail...he's game and joins in....he creates a sailboat of sorts...I like his enthusiasm and energy...BUT we lose however the old ladies LOVE him!!! He tells me nothing scares him. I tell him I beg to differ or that maybe he hasn't found the fear does yet....or Susan Jeffers (Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway that dons my bookshelf..would be lost on him!!!) he tells me about a trip to NYC that he took recently alone....about playing ice hockey and invites me to watch him next weekend...and as he gives me a lift to the garage to buy some chocolate and ciggies...I kinda think Mr Subway is a genuine....go getter who has the world as his oyster or at least the odd cockle and muscle at his realm and I cast a smile as he drives off in his black Porsche Targo...he deserves all of this and what's more he was a very unassuming, interesting and chivalrous date. Still searching but with a glint in my eye for the possibility of a Mr Right on the World Wide Web.....

Mr California Stalker

52 year old; separated; married for 18 years; father of three; living in Claremont, California. Heavy equipment operator; bad speller!!!
The Email
Mr California contacted me with this opener..."love the hat pic, hop on a plane, come have a beer in sunny cal with me" I responded jokingly send me the air ticket and put the beers on ice I'm on my way! This unfortunately encouraged Mr California to bombard me with emails...describing his pool, our date, what we would do in CA while I stayed with him, how sensual he is and wants to be...I mean, does he really think I am going to fly to the States, stay in his house, swim in his pool, drink his ice cold beer with a total "sensual" stranger? mmm do I want to end up buried in his garden, remember he's a heavy equipment operator....clue's in the profile people!!!
No Date...no more emails...Mr California is blocked and I am still searching!!!

Mr Hippy

48 year old; divorced; father of 2 teenage daughters; long-ish greying hair; blue eyes; copywriter and director of a media business; creative; quirky; non conformist. Was married to Mary Poppins apparently; dabbled with drugs in his younger years. Well written profile...here's a glimpse: Headline for Mr Hippy is thus

"The Difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra!" Mr Hippy claims to be seeking a like minded soul to start something incredible...

"So ...what would you like to know? My bank balance? Do I go to the gym 27 times a day? Am I kind, creative, good fun and mildly insane? I might be but it's all so subjective isn't it and besides, I'd rather you judge for yourself so if you're completely gorgeous, slimmish, successful at something and curious about me then get in touch"

The Date
Afternoon tea in a village. I inform Mr Hippy that I will call him on arrival to arrange meeting place. As I saunter through the village, I text him with the following..."Walk through the village and look out for me...let's see if we bump into each other! Who said romanticism was dead" 15 minutes later, having rotated my head 360 degrees in a seemingly paranoiac fashion to other fellow villagers and craned my neck at disturbing angles, around corners, doorways and into car windscreens...mine and Mr Hippy's paths have not crossed! Oh dear...moment is lost! It's starting to rain on my parade literally and laterally and I'm brolly-less and feeling ever so slightly hopeless...I find a bench outside a pub and sit and wait. Mmm....text arrives..."ok I give up - where are you?" I text back "where are you?" Nothing...it's now 30 mins since we arranged to meet. I feel rather foolish and silly and awkward about meeting Mr Hippy now as he, like me, has obviously done a few laps of the village and I start to think I should have gone down the pink carnation, FT and standing under the clock tower route. Time to get out of here....once at home...I get a missed call from Mr Hippy who is in a state of bewilderment and frustration with a flat mobile battery! I respond from confused.com HQ and suggest that if intrigue over rides irritation then we should re-arrange.
Date 2
Coffee at a cafe at 2:30pm. Specific arrangements in place to avoid 2nd date disaster. Mr Hippy is hiding behind a newspaper which he has cut the eyes out of of. He is staring at me. Ok this guy is certainly quirky! He is casually dressed in jeans, shirt and linen blazer. He is good looking for an older, weathered, well worn, well lived man. He could be my biology teacher...a lecturer...or a lecherous old man!!! We have the awkward apologies and explanations for date 1's debacle. He also chooses this is the time to tell me that he is actually 51 years old, but ages himself at 48 years on his profile so not to miss women who only search up to 50! Great - a liar! He explains he was married for 20 years to Mary Poppins, a lawyer and the 2 children, he claims, eroded the relationship. He's divorced and has maintained amicable relations with Ms Poppins who now has a new partner and Mr Hippy has dined with them..which he said was strange. He's been dating for a few years...admits to being lonely. He tells me he feels surrounded by pairs...people...pigeons...happy couples...and he feels he would like someone special to share experiences with. We talk about his work..he's runs a creative media business, writes jingles and creates graphics for advertising. He recites a jingle to me and asks me to guess what it is promoting..I guess a plane...wrong...a caravan! He tells me a few horror stories from his dating experiences, a woman whose photos and flesh were a classic before and after ad for WeightWatchers, but in reverse! He said he had an excruciating swift pint with her, made his excuses and legged it! He admits to experimenting with all sorts of recreational drugs in his younger days and still enjoys a spliff, with music or after sex....alarm bells chime, why do men have to do this...refer to sex so blatantly...I am giggling uncomfortably like a school girl. It's never right an age gap of over 20+ years. He asks me about my relationship with my parents, which I find interesting. Is Mr Hippy, a wannabe father figure? His reasons are he feels people have a fuller well being if they get on well with their parents into adulthood. He chain smokes Mr Hippy, I'm surprised he doesn't have a yellow hand and a black cavern for teeth...i notice his car keys are on the table, BMW key ring. We finish our drinks and he says he'd like to hook up again...maybe go to see a live band. I make my pleasantries and leave...it was an enjoyable rendezvous....with an older man...who seems gentle and genuine...a bit lost and with a foot or yellow hand in the past. Still searching!

Pause for Thought...

I started wondering why everyone in the pool of internet dating spouts out the same profile stuff over and over. So much of the same old thing! DVD - bottle of wine...good sense of humour..wide circle of friends, fully functional family, great job, great bod, great brain, completely sane! Sporty, thoughty, naughty and haughty! Mmm so why the heck are you single, Mr Perfect? Mr Eligible? Mr Hubby-Material? I know why...read on Sherlock!

When you're new to all this, it all seems terribly exciting...WOW! So many nice single eligible men...swimming round in a pool, removed slightly from the real sea of life, but so easily accessed at the touch of a button, what a great concept...dating with your cat on your lap, in your chocolate and red wine stained PJs, bed hair, builders tea, watching dross day-time TV (you know the sort, in-bred families swapping partners and throwing chairs at each other across a studio, all in the name of entertainment) Alas, you'll never have to go out again! What you don't realise is that you are potentially emailing pot bellied, bare chested men, who are sat in their already once or twice reversed Y fronts, surrounded by pot noodles, porn mags, basket loads of dirty washing, empty cans of stella, over flowing ashtrays, Nuts magazines, paper cuttings of escorts on free ads!....plucking their nasal/ear hair onto their keyboards, whilst fantasising about the next 21 year old supermodel profile to approach. The ones whose photos are either non existent, 10 years out of date, camouflaged with baseball caps and sunglasses or pasted onto the Taj Mahal shot or Kilimanjaro both of which these guys have never seen, walked up or down, as they have never left a 15 miles radius of Kidderminster!
Every man has a big fabulous life with massive cars and houses and they go to exotic places on holidays, not to mention the bulging bank balance and kind and generous nature to go with the deck of credit, debit, store, more, adore, flexible friends to hook us golddigging, money grabbing ladies into the fold!
They love their (dog cat horse llama monkey alligator kingcobra elephant mother father sister niece nephew neighbour the homeless the planet shoe shopping DIY) -delete as applicable...
Seems like all the most fantastic men go on these dating sites, and what an amazing place it is to be...

Wouldn't it be funny if they did the same in all potential dating situations - walking round in a nightclub/Tescos/the workplace/the park with the age range they require, on the front of their designer, muscle clinging t-shirt, and all the other vital statistics in their profile on display - and a couple of photos stuck on their backside - the usual stuff, you know, in the suit as the best man - sprawled over their fast car - smothering the poor old dog - ski-ing - fancy dress looking like a total dick - glass of wine in hand, a bit merry, actually totally smashed and bog eyed ...but not all in the same photo by the way. Well actually....

Still searching and swimming...but taking a life jacket, just in case of emergencies!!!

Poetic Email

So I logged on this morning to find amongst the hum drum emails from the pool of men this...

Have I attracted your attention or am I reeled in but thrown back ?
Are you waiting at the station or walking down the track ?

Does my profile not excite you or my photo make you hack?
Will we meet along the road of life, or part and not look back ?

Will I see you in the paddock or the pit lane walking by?
Or be-wellied by the fireplace with some champagne (very dry)?

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, Brief as the lightning in the collied night ?