It had been a long night. My new client - let's call her Leslie - had been arrested for attempting, not very successfully, to strangle her spouse, after overdosing on cheap cider!
Having spent several hours in a small, airless cell, whilst Leslie paced and swore - her fleshy legs squeezed, as they were, into cheap black leggings, looking like two black puddings ready to burst their skin and topped off with a grubby T-shirt emblazoned with the slightly incongruous slogan ‘Hot Chick’ - it was hard to believe that scenarios like this were what I had spent years and thousands of pounds training for. Rumpole it wasn't.
So after a less than glamorous evening at the local police station what possessed me, on my return home, to log on to the Internet to be greeted by more inadequates, I shall never know. Having dipped in and out of the murky pool of Internet dating over a few years, when confronted by a new potential suitor in my 'matches', who was looking for a 'solemate' I didn't know whether to laugh
or direct him to Waitrose fish counter!
On balance, I decided neither, and suspended my membership. Surely there had to be a better way to meet a kindred spirit...
Just for the record, I'm no pedant and neither do I have a long and prescriptive list of attributes sought in a future partner. However, when faced with a man who, as well as having an unhealthy interest in befriending fish, was also into 'God, big boobs and Manchester United, in no particular order', apparently, I knew it was time for a break from the insanity...
The man, who would become known as Mr. Fish, was merely the latest in a series of less than satisfactory online encounters...more of which later...so why, oh why, a few weeks later did I persuade myself it was a good idea to give Internet dating the benefit of extreme doubt and try again....
Having spent several hours in a small, airless cell, whilst Leslie paced and swore - her fleshy legs squeezed, as they were, into cheap black leggings, looking like two black puddings ready to burst their skin and topped off with a grubby T-shirt emblazoned with the slightly incongruous slogan ‘Hot Chick’ - it was hard to believe that scenarios like this were what I had spent years and thousands of pounds training for. Rumpole it wasn't.
So after a less than glamorous evening at the local police station what possessed me, on my return home, to log on to the Internet to be greeted by more inadequates, I shall never know. Having dipped in and out of the murky pool of Internet dating over a few years, when confronted by a new potential suitor in my 'matches', who was looking for a 'solemate' I didn't know whether to laugh
or direct him to Waitrose fish counter!On balance, I decided neither, and suspended my membership. Surely there had to be a better way to meet a kindred spirit...
Just for the record, I'm no pedant and neither do I have a long and prescriptive list of attributes sought in a future partner. However, when faced with a man who, as well as having an unhealthy interest in befriending fish, was also into 'God, big boobs and Manchester United, in no particular order', apparently, I knew it was time for a break from the insanity...
The man, who would become known as Mr. Fish, was merely the latest in a series of less than satisfactory online encounters...more of which later...so why, oh why, a few weeks later did I persuade myself it was a good idea to give Internet dating the benefit of extreme doubt and try again....
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