“I don’t want to walk a dog along a beach, and have lunch in a pub with a fire. I’ve seen all the rom-coms I’m ever going to see and have drunk enough red wine cosily on sofas. Offer me something original if you want to grab my attention.”
I am learning to spot the men who are new to online dating. They arrive with a shiny new membership, expecting to find an order number alongside each of us. The writer of this cut-and-paste approach listed all the things he didn’t like in “a lady”, qualities that, I suspect, defined his ex-wife. Above all, he said, women should only contact him if they had managed to overcome the urge to criticise. The urge to criticise, I admit, was strong in me. I don’t usually feel the need to reply to the round-robins that plop into the inbox (“Write one email and reach 400 women at once!”). In this case, when I didn’t respond, another message arrived chiding me for my bad manners. He added that he was leaving the site as the quality of people was so dire.
I began chatting to a 41-year-old man, who got in touch to say I seemed to be a clever girl although, he added, he had yet to meet a female who was truly intelligent. Conversely, there has been a crop of men, lately, who didn’t go to university and are seriously chippy about it. “Everything I know is from the school of life,” one wrote, “and I admit to having trouble with overeducated birds like you.”
I thought he was trying to be funny, and wrote an attempt at a funny response. His reply said: “I’m slipping into a coma, but I’m sure there’s someone for everyone in the world.” Then his green light went off, signalling that he had gone offline. Basically, he had hung up on me. I do wonder if online dating websites are, for some men, a safe place to be unbelievably rude to women and express their rage and misogyny. My guess is that some of them have no interest in meeting anyone.
Another recent message said: “I have been called a philosopher, and I guess I am quite brainy, but I am also a man with profound aesthetic gifts.” It wasn’t his judgment, note, that he was “a philosopher”, but that of those around him. I’ve seen a few profiles take this humble-brag approach – citing how wonderful others say they are, then arguing unconvincingly with the praise.
“People have told me that I’m good-looking, bright and fun to be around, though I don’t know about that.”
Sometimes a dog is cited as the source. “I am sensitive, amiable and good-looking, according to my faithful old labrador.”
A man I heard from recently just went for it, without pretending he was quoting a friend. “Me in three words? Oh, OK then.” (I looked behind me. Who had asked him to describe himself in three words?) “Genuine, intelligent and handsome would probably do it. Three more? Well, how about manly, loyal and loving. You want more? Let’s try cultured, gregarious and amusing.”
Dating sites are Darwinian places, but not everyone has to try too hard. The people who can afford to be prescriptive – in fact they can do what they like – are the rich, successful men over 6ft tall. If they are also handsome, they live in a dating world of their own making.
“Cool, happy, successful executive and international traveller, divorced and 52, looking for unique woman.”
The rich man is used to living in a high-spec environment and finding a mate seems no different. “When I find her, she’ll be a loving, unflappable, organised, sporty, can-do person; gentle, feminine, intelligent, tolerant, funny, sexy, honest, relaxed, charming to all and a passionate adventurer. She should have her own life, her own career, but also realise that nothing is more important than family.”
Men like this are looking to breed, and are very clear about what they need: willowy, high-achieving goddess types of saint-like temperament, who are ready to give up the fast lane to be barefoot and pregnant. The galling thing is that he will get hundreds of responses because, although he will have a definite physical type in mind, he didn’t make any reference to it. The auditions are probably ongoing.
“Why are men like this even available?” I asked the dog. “Why would they need to look online?” He didn’t say, but I could read his thought bubble. “They must be absolute shits.”
• Stella Grey is a pseudonym
