Dating

I guess most people are aware that I'm terminally single and although I bang on about it quite a lot, it really doesn't bother me.  To be honest, I'd lose a sizable chunk of my act if I met someone and do believe I genuinely have gone a bit wrong by now. 

I doubt having a bloke would work for me much any how. 

As I've said in my act (accidentally, the first time, after getting carried away and asking the audience if anyone was up for a shag, and then becoming scared by the overwhelming positive response), I'm probably all healed up now and wouldn't be good for anything.  I was discussing this with people at work today and revealed that, over the years, I have been able to collect a whole heap of hang ups and now, the only bloke I think I could relax with would have to be that kid who plays a mean pin ball (you know him, the deaf, dumb and blind one).

Of course, the sensible part of me says that I can't go on like this and that I need to have  word with myself.  I should slap myself until I beg myself for mercy but then I wouldn't GIVE myself mercy, I'd just keep on slapping until I cried, tears of pain mingling with confusion as to why I wasn't stopping with the auto self flagellation. 

Anyhoo, the bit of me that says I should change made me join a dating website a few months ago.  I decided to be totally honest and put on my profile that I'm a bit crap, my car tried to kill me, I'm prone to grumpiness and I don't want anyone who can only write their profile in text talk (morons), is needy, or soppy in any way.  I also said that until I was convinced any potential date wasn't a cannibal I would only be meeting them in a busy pub where they were free to feed me.  I didn't think I'd get any responses but bloody hell, the pile of emails frightened the bejesus outta me.  In horror, I promptly took my profile down.  The thing is, they kept sending me matches to look at so after about a week I decided to just go through these and see, in a no pressure environment, who they reckoned my perfect mates were.

CHRIST ON A BIKE!

No word of a lie, the first bloke had a tracheostomy - a bloody plastic pipe sticking out of his throat!  I got matched with a bloke who looked like he was 65, was propped up in a chair and had a sodding plastic tube sticking out of his neck!  Yeah, after everything I'd said about looking for a meeting of minds, wanting a bloke with wit and charm, I get a geriatric who was hanging onto life by a plastic tube.

The next bugger looked like he was about 50.  Not in age, in stones.  He was HUGE yet seemed to be wearing a toupee.  Looking closer it wasn't a toupee, I think his head had grown so big his hair had a shrunken look to it.  It was also cut in a Friar Tuck style.  Fuck me!

The third looked as if he'd posted a picture of himself from the 1970s.

The forth was the epitome of Paedophile Chic. 

The fifth had never had a job, had loads of kids and was looking for a 'special lady for fun and frolics'.  Piss off mate.

....I went through the list with growing dismay.  Bloody hell, who am I kidding any way?  What makes me think I've even GOT anything to offer anyone who was 'hanging the right way' in the first place.  Perhaps this was Fate telling me to stop thinking I could do any better than a bloke in an ill fitting suit with giant black framed glasses and a penchant for short women who could pass as being 12.  Gawd only knows what comments my photo and grumpy profile were getting.  I think most of it was made up with what I don't want and some vague nod towards my comedy.

Hell, I dipped my toe in the pool of real life and decided I preferred hermitude.  Hermitude, sweet hermitude, you don't judge me for wearing dinner stained pyjamas.....

Oh yeah, just a quickie.  Whilst typing this up I was summonsed upstairs by the Tidiness Nazi.  I could hear from the tone of her voice I was in trouble so I duly trouped up the stairs, my frightened face appearing slowly above the banister.  She was in the bathroom, her face set.

"Wha........?"

She didn't speak, she just silently pointed towards the shower.  I slowly entered the room and looked at the giant turd glistening in the cubicle.


"I'm not picking it up!" she huffed before leaving the room.


Honestly, I didn't do it.  We have a perfectly acceptable toilet in the same room!