the lengths they’ll go to

I’ve been resisting making this post, but am at last forced into it.

I have, it’s been clear, been playing about on the internet on one or two dating sites. Met some interesting characters and some nice new friends. But there has also been a theme of men not turning up (standard practice I gather) and today’s last one is a long line in ‘reasons for not to meet’. And yes it is established that I am egocentric.

There’s a bit of a long history here too.

Father had a heart attack. I did meet him but it was not the romantic event I had planned. He was a little preoccupied.
Stood up in Athens. When asked (later) why? He didn’t know.
Earthquake in Christchurch.
Fireman’s hose disconnected, flew up and knocked him out.
Panic attacks.
I’m too good for him.
He’s a con man.
I’m obsessive/manic/mad.
Best friend died.
Essay to write.
Exams. (Clearly these last two were at the yoof end of the spectrum).

That’s not to mention all the other ones who simply did not turn up and were never heard from again. Of the ones who did: a good friend, a long monologue about work and another about recent losses (too sad). Another monologue about dietary requirements.

I am doing quite well wardrobe wise: I buy a new frock each time they don’t turn up and yesterday I bought a new print (Nigel Brown).

There’s also the past history: gay, died, married, never arrived in New Zealand, fell in love with another woman, chose alcohol over me. Did I mention gay?

Sigh.

One guy from Christchurch say’s he’ll turn up but I’m expecting a plane crash that weekend.

I’m sure there’s more. Like the first boyfriend who fell off the roof and died (a few years after me, but nevertheless it was a shock).

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7 thoughts on “the lengths they’ll go to

  1. My list isn’t nearly so various or entertaining, but I’d like to add:

    an urgent business trip to Auckland, of which he was notified two hours before our date and which apparently barred him from ever getting in touch with me again

    the unsurmountable obstacle of his living in the South Island and me in the North, which he’d somehow overlooked when he first getting touch and embarking on a lively email correspondence

    horror at my signing off an email with the information that I was about to sit in front of the fire with a glass of wine – his previous partner had been an alcoholic and I was clearly embarked on the same course.

    It ain’t us – it’s them!

    Like

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