‘What do you reckon?’
My mother reckons go for it. Of course she does; my mother would have replied to Daniel’s text – she said as much.
‘But… I dunno. It’s just – I know loads of people do it, but, it just seems… a bit desperate.’
‘But if you think you’ve met everyone you’re going to meet through the usual channels…’
Reeling and, well, reeling. And now tango classes, which I’m doing with Milonga, of all people.
‘… then why not? You might meet someone.’
That’s what I’m afraid of.
I am negativity central today.
‘… I’d only be doing it because I was being paid, so I’d feel like a bit of a fraud.’
‘Better to do it because you’re being paid and then writing about it, than doing it because you’re desperate!’
Can we stop saying desperate?!
‘But… I can’t be bothered with it! I have a life, y’know?! I have things in my diary.’
I’ve surpassed myself on the lame excuses front. My mother doesn’t bother replying.
The ace up my sleeve.
‘… I do meet people I like, it’s just, it’s not mutual! I don’t need to meet more people I like who don’t like me back!’
Viable Prospect springs to mind, though I haven’t actually met him…
‘But you might meet someone who does like you back!’
… and Matthew.
There it is: the Big, as Carrie Bradshaw might say, reason for doing online dating. Today’s the first day I haven’t listened to the songs we danced to, or edited posts about him which are clearly never going to work because they hang on something pathetic, like a Facebook add.
I weave through the crowd, processing faces.
No, no, no…
It’s like Tinder.
… no, no…
Or online dating.
… not a patch on Ma–
I dismiss the thought.
‘… I might do it.’