To quote a best friend:
“You must be the unluckiest person I know when it comes to love and men.”
I wouldn’t disagree with her, nor would the rest of my friends, families or readers of this column. But her pearls of wisdom got me thinking. And before anyone says anything, yes, I am capable of getting the old grey matter to work. I’m very intellectual. I’ve got a degree, you know. A line I often pull out the bag if anyone questions my intellect.
But here I go, distracted and side tracked again. Back to what her pearls of wisdom got me thinking about. WHERE AM I GOING WRONG WITH MEN?! To be this undateable, I must be doing something not quite dateable. So I thought, let me retrace my steps. To my last two potential Mr Rights who added themselves to my long list of Mr Wrongs.
Well, first up, there’s a man from Chiswick. I met him on Grindr. And f*ck me sideways, he actually wanted a date and not a quick bunk up on the high road. After the initial shock of being asked on a date (from Grindr), I accepted and we agreed to meet in a beautiful little pub on the river.
As soon as I saw him, I noticed he had slightly BFG ears but this didn’t deter me. I thought, how handy they would be to hold onto when he drops to his knees. PMA. Every cloud has a silver lining. The conversation was quite pleasant and the wine flowed like the rivers of Babylon. Until we got onto the topic of Boy Scouts. I disclosed that my cub leader had been arrested for fiddling with some of my fellow Cubs.
As I continued on in this fashion of unsuitable date conversation, I felt Joan Rivers and Pam Ann (and Sauvignon Blanc) taking over my body and my mouth,
“I had to be questioned by the police. Luckily he didn’t touch me. I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I sat there, laughing and he looked at me,
“That’s not funny!”
“Oh”, my jaw dropped quicker than a gay boy in a football changing room. And before I knew it, he’d booked an Uber and left. Obviously didn’t appreciate my sense of humour. Oh well, at least he admitted it and for once, I had a reason for why a date had ditched me. Our sense of senses of humour were definitely not compatible.
But as you know, you don’t keep me down for long. Not unless it involves a rugby squad and blow jobs. But that’s a story for another column. Anyway, stop the side tracking. I’m scattier than a March hare. Is that even scatty? I don’t know. I just remember my dear old Nan saying it from time to time. Oh no, it’s just hit me. It’s as mad as a March hare. Well, you get the drift!
Back to my story of the second Mr Wrong, who once again, came from Grindr. I know you can see a pattern forming here. Well, we hit it off. We had a spark better than the new year fireworks on the Thames. Or so I thought. We were up until 4 in the morning on our first couple of times talking. And then suddenly, nothing. He did a quicker u-turn than Theresa May. But I thought, hang on a damn second. I ain’t having this so I thought, for once, I’m going to get to the bottom of this behaviour.
So here is a transcript of a WhatsApp conversation:
MARK: I’m really interested to know what changed for you. Because we were talking till late at night, so full on and then nothing!
MR WRONG: I dunno. I just don’t chase people and doubt we’re compatible in the vanity sense, I don’t care about Botox and fake tan.
MARK: But you knew about the fake tan and the Botox before you spoke to me.
MR WRONG: Well it didn’t bother me but then it did. I can’t help it, I’m just insecure with guys.
MARK: Well, if you’d have just given us a try, you might have had a great time. But now you’ll just carry on with your insecurity. I was there, I was willing…
I do like having the last word. And I’ve never heard from either of these Grindr men ever again. Lesson one that I’ve learned, don’t expect anymore than a shag and an STD from Grindr. And lesson two, it’s not me, it’s them. I feel so liberated.
Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.
Mark David Woollard has just hit his 30’s and he feels as good as he ever has done! He is a fun loving, hard working kinda guy who has a self
confessed addiction to fake tan and Botox!
He has a terrible track record with men and rarely seems to get past the first date stage!
He graduated from Brunel university, west London back in the late 2000’s with a degree in creative writing and journalism. And is the author of one book, “The fun and frolics of Fifi a l’orange: The fame journey.” Available to buy on amazon!
He loves to make people laugh and vows never to take life too seriously. His favourite colours are purple and blue. Baby blue more though. His favourite food is Italian, but he is so upset that he can’t have garlic anymore because it gives him awful indigestion. His favourite alcoholic beverage is Sauvignon blanc. But he has also become partial to ale of late. And is worried about whether that makes him an old man??
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Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you'd like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.