“Romeo, Romeo, where the fuck art thou Romeo?” An introduction to Internet Dating.

There are times in life, when we just can’t help asking ourselves ‘why’? Just like the little kid that drives its parents nuts with ‘why?’ after every adult statement or question I find myself in the shoes of the recalcitrant child… aged 27!

WHY? Why am I single? Why should I want to settle down? Why do so many relationships break down? Why are so many Londoners single? Why are so many of my friends suddenly waltzing up the aisle singing ‘going to the chapel’? Why am I not?

In many ways, I still feel way too young to settle down, there’s still so much fun to be had out there, why would I want to commit? But then there’s the nagging little tick of Mother Nature, calling me to find myself a mate. Funny how none seem forthcoming now I am suddenly coming round to the idea!

Now, I’m not a complete commitment-phobe. Truth be told, I was actually on course to settle down once and for all last year – there was even a dress on order – but true to the 20-something-London-stereotype, one eye wouldn’t quite stop roving and there was definitely a small part of me wondering if there might just be something better out there. Awful I know, but, in my defence, so was he!

Perhaps Disney and fairy tales have ruined me forever but I’m a hopeless romantic… and perhaps more than a little Latin in my approach to relationships. Combine that with an extreme feminist upbringing and I guess it could be a tad hard to find my ideal match. But, like all hardened optimists, I decided to take the bull, by the horns, so to speak, and explore what the world has on offer.

First port of call, the ubiquitous internet dating sites. Hours of entertainment ensued with setting up my profile. My brother’s advice: “approach it like a marketing exercise”. So there I was, late one evening, glass of wine in hand, pizza cooling in its chic brown cardboard box, writing a profile as if I were a bottle of shampoo getting ready to go to market… next, find a couple of photos that weren’t too drunken or overtly posed in mum’s garden and hit submit.

… Four hours later… 20 profile hits, three messages and my internet dating experience had started. Now I was in two minds whether to tell my friends about this latest foray but hey, the promise of hysterical laughter as I confessed, perfectly timed text messages when out on a date asking if I need rescuing and the odd call to make sure I got home OK and had a nice evening, far outweighed any feeling of self-consciousness I might have initially had. In fact, a couple even decided to come along for the ride and keep me company – which was brilliant fun until we realised that we were in touch with the same guys! Luckily we managed to share.

So two weeks, two thousand hits on my profile, two hundred and fifty messages and three dates later, forgive me for feeling a little jaded! If I have to sit and nod my way through one more dinner (who could have imagined that IP technology could be so riveting!) and then dodge the inimitable drunken lunge I think I might seriously pack my bags and run for the nearest convent. Why? This is not how I remember dating!

I knew one date wasn’t going to work the minute we met up. His opening gambit ran along the lines of ‘Look, I just got my US visa… Heading out there to work next week but don’t worry, I can take a partner with me!” One coffee later and I was running for the door screaming… I’m an internet dating virgin… get me outa here!

But I didn’t give up… There’s someone out there for everyone… isn’t there?

And then it happened. Date four: A really bad day at work - not the most auspicious beginning! A glass of champagne before the off to wash the day away, a foreboding sense of impending doom, (should I just cancel?) and off I go, like the nervous little kid on the first day of school, complete with pre-date spot and a minor clothes crisis. As I walk into the conveniently public bar there he is… my surprisingly tall, blonde, good-looking stranger! Two glasses of wine later and we are seated in a lively Japanese bar sharing plates of noodles, laughing at our chop stick skills and quaffing a nice bottle of Chilean Merlot (No comments on that combo, please.)

Refreshingly entertaining, charmingly easy to talk to, I found myself having to restrain Ali McBeal-esque twitches where I imagined clubbing him over the head and dragging him back to my apartment to have my wicked way with him. Was it him or was this the wine talking? Back to the pub and a ladylike retirement home (alone, I hasten to add, just in case it was the wine) and I couldn’t get this one out of my mind. Four hasty dates later and things still going strong… but he has to go back to Finland where he is based. Bummer!

But no, all is not lost! A continuous stream of text messages, phone calls and this one is a winner! One glorious visit to Finland later and I am about to break my own cardinal rule and start crowing! Matching pics on our phones, I’m wearing his clothes and I think my friends have started reaching for the sick bucket but I don’t care… cos I am smitten! We’ve even had the 'where shall we go from here?' conversation and after a little coaxing I have relinquished my late night companion, Mr Dating Site, in favour of late night chats and text messages with my blonde hunk. We have both agreed to stop logging in and I can’t quite believe my luck!

But the nagging little voice in my head suddenly pipes up with an incessant… ‘What if?’ It seems over the last few years, I might have developed some trust issues! So, having suspended my profile, I log in somewhat anonymously, and sneak a peek at his profile… and there it is… in big red letters: “Logged in in last two hours”

WHY?

Now being a big girl, I decide to be really upfront about this one and give him the benefit of the doubt. There are many reasons for logging in… no, really there are! It becomes a bit of a habit after a while… it’s kinda masochistic. You know the fridge is empty but you keep opening it anyway… just in case. There could be a hundred reasons why and I wouldn’t mind so much if he hadn’t been insistent on my not logging in any more… (No, I lie, I would… but my little bubble wouldn’t have been inflated quite so much and I wouldn’t be quite so disappointed).

So, with my heart in my mouth, I call him. (And at this point I have to ask myself WHY I care so much… perhaps fodder for another article or a shrink’s chair.) His explanation? He was checking he had cancelled his Direct Debit for the site… Perfectly plausible, I hear you all cry… and indeed it was. But it was last time… for yes, I forgot to mention… a month later and this is the second time. (Seems those insecurities might run deeper than first imagined!) I find myself asking ‘WHY?’ on so many levels…

And for the second time, I find myself feeling like that little kid at my first day of school, looking all around and wondering what the protocol is when it comes to internet dating.

Oh Romeo, Romeo, where the fuck art thou Romeo????