Dating definitely don’ts

You might have guessed, it might be apparent, that I am dabbling once again, with the dating scene….. then again, maybe not.  It will also probably come as no surprise to you when I say, I felt the need to republish my “How to be a nice sh*thead, Part II“, this week.  I’m always surprised, that I’m still surprised.

Marry me!

Marry me!

My reasons for this were a fizzly first encounter with a Hot French dude, who I’d initially made contact with two months ago.  We’d had a short chat and exchanged a few messages, which quickly faded to nothing.  He slightly resembled Charles Manson. What’s not to love about that?

Not long after I wrote my “How to be a nice sh*thead, Part II” post, instead of closing my account, as I had planned, I started sending men messages as they would.  For example, in response to a message for sex, I responded, “Can you guarantee I’ll have an orgasm?”  and, “Depends.  How big’s your penis?”  Funnily enough, not many responded.  Strange….  I honestly thought that was a fair exchange. Roll on two months, and  I received a text from French Manson out of the blue.  Hurrah!!  Coffee with *Charles (pronounce – ‘Shaarles’.), *knees buckle.  I kicked up my heels in delight and chose something to wear that looked like I had not at all spent a whole evening thinking about it.  We spent a little time, chit chatting, drinking coffee, blah, blah,blah…… maybe 45 minutes in total.  NOTE: this number is significant.  Things were happening downstairs, that I had not experienced for a little while on a date, he was hoooooottttt! In that scary, mass-murdery kind of way.  I fairly skipped home, head full of what it might be like to tumble with his broad-shouldered, smouldering manliness. After just an hour in a café I was fantasising, so you can imagine, I nearly imploded when later that night, he was keenly enquiring when the soonest time was we could meet again.

This was more like it!  But………  within twenty four short hours, that charming, shy, quiet Frenchman had well and truly rained on my fantasy parade. Planning the second date, I text him, “What are our plans for later?”, to which I received a puzzled emoji face.  Swiftly followed by “sexo?” For those of you who don’t speak Spanish, that’s ‘sex’.  So, here’s the thing.  Had he continued to be charming and funny and hot and said ‘dinner?’ there is a very distinct possibility, that after filling my boots, I may have filled my boots.  I have a three date rule, but rules can be broken, right?  But by being so blatant neither of us got our itches scratched.  When I said no, he cancelled. I sent the following response: “When something is casual, sex or something different at the very least I expect a little charm.  I find you attractive, so with another date or two and the same amount of charm and not the direct question, I’m sure it would have happened.  What a shame!”  Maybe he didn’t give a flying monkey’s arse, but I hope he slapped his forehead and said, in the words of the great sooth sayer Homer Simpson, “Doh!”

This disappointing exchange has prompted me to conduct a mini experiment with dating apps.  I’m spending 24 hours each on three different apps, with three different profile photos.  All the same photo with  the following:  I want a relationship, I don’t know what I want and I want sex.

I’m curious to see if the words register, even just al little bit, and change the kind of responses I receive.  Or if men really are just engaging the ‘if you throw enough shit, eventually some of it will stick’ method of getting laid.

And so the Anne Pank finishing school for men strikes again.  Sshhhhaaaarrlles Manson will take that information away with him, be charming and get loads of sex.  I fully expect to receive a thank you message, in the not too distant future.  What do you think the chances are???

*Names changed to protect the blunt

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