Dating, bargain basement-style

Last weekend, I got legless. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but it was a three-part stage show that kicked off with gleeful, Zambucca-skolling gusto, descended into moaning about the man drought, and ended when I started slapping the table and drunkenly promising that yes, I would go back on RSVP and remain there for the average 24 dates it reportedly takes until you strike online gold. (I then stumbled into the nearest burger joint and attempted to chat up an 18-year-old piercings victim who could have passed for an African tribesman, but that’s another story.)
Sooooo… yep, online dating has suckered me back into its hairy clutches. If you haven’t succumbed, it’s sort of like trawling a bargain basement bin. You’re sure you’re going to find the designer top of your dreams for $5, but instead you end up settling for a t-shirt with a silly logo that you console yourself will be great for doing the gardening in.
At first, it all seems so positive. Cute photo, funny profile, a penchant for cats and babies. Then comes the actual date. The socks and sandals might be the first red flag; the next is when he bangs on and on about how he used to own a Subway franchise. It’s around this time you realise you’d rather stick pins in your eyes than share even five minutes with the person opposite. Not a great start.
While pondering this conundrum in the Milson’s Point pool with my pal Justine, she insisted RSVP wouldn’t be half as bad if it was compulsory for singletons. "That way, you wouldn’t feel like so much of a freak being on there,” she reasoned cheerfully.
When an eavesdropper swimming past muttered, “Compulsory RSVP… great idea”, I got the feeling she too had experienced the dark side of Socks’n’Sandals or Mr I-Used-To-Own-A-Subway-Franchise. And it got me thinking that the Enforced Online Dating Bill could work – or at the very least, help to raise the calibre of dates. Well, we can live in hope.
In the meantime, I’ll keep trucking. After all, in sales, you occasionally find a gem. If you have, spill the beans – or hand over your worst online dating story. It’s the least you can do to make me feel better…