Tag Archives: profile fibber

7 online dating liars we all meet eventually

According to the Mirror, a recent survey claims a staggering amount of people lie on first dates. 37% of women lie about their age and 29% of men lie about their wage, for starters.

And that’s even before you get to the 14% of women who give a totally false name – I guess they don’t want you @-ing them with your totally amazing bantz after all, boys. Sorry.

Maybe we’d all like to pretend to be someone else once in a while, but it seems dating is the perfect stage for wannabe thesps to try out their best fibs. Here are a few of the most obvious ones you’ll meet.

1. The six-footer
If your date claims to be six-feet tall, I have some bad news: he probably isn’t. For reasons best known only to them, to be 6′ tall is the dream, the ultimate goal. And if you’re not? Why, just say you are – everyone else will fall into line and believe you.

Thanks to everyone being super-weird about height and no doubt tying it into masculinity or strength or power or whatever, it’s common for the more diminutive of us to fudge the stats a little, to add on an inch or two to our online profiles.

Quite how anyone expects to explain this to your date when you arrive and come up to their elbows is another matter entirely, but people still give it a go.

And the best thing is, he’ll probably say to you: “Oh, you’re not as tall as I thought you’d be.”

Tall people themselves don’t really help, lording it over everyone with those magical, aspirational heights of between 6′ to 6’4. Once you get beyond that however, the height-shaming slips into reverse and our loftier friends start knocking an inch or two off to avoid being labelled as giants.

In short (pardon the pun), nobody is as tall or as short as they say. Nobody. Continue reading 7 online dating liars we all meet eventually

Decoding dumb clichés on dating bios

Your dating profile – or the bio on whichever app your fingers are getting busy with – is your storefront, your prime advertising space.

Sure, a picture tells a thousand words, but as anyone who’s spent more than a minute in the company of a  boyband can tell you, hot looks are no guarantee of a great brain or a good time.

Given that most people are only a swipe away from dating oblivion, you’d think that guys (and girls, of course, if that’s your thing) out there might try a little harder to attract your attention. Sadly, most people are saying very little but a slightly different version of the same 20 or so things – most of them as empty and meaningless to you as hearing about someone’s blow job in a train station in 1973.

Here, I decode a few.

“Might be time for some strings attached.”
Here I am on a sex app, a bit of tech that was created by somebody who wanted to make it easier for people to have sex with perfect strangers, using it to look for sex.

Thing is, I don’t want people to think I’m only here for the sex, oh no. I’m a sensitive soul, you see – I have a lot of thoughts, most of them quite deep and meaningful. I’m not just a piece of meat. So I’m looking for a boyfriend – some ‘strings’, if you like – who can take me away from all these endless cock pics and headless torsos and “what u into”.

But of course, rather than say that I want a relationship and rule myself out of any anonymous boning, I’ll only say that I ‘might’ be looking. Step this way, Prince Charming.

“Tall, dark and handsome to the front of the queue.”
War-torn Afghanistan has nothing on the devastation caused by the hordes vying for my affections. There are catfights, broken hearts and bloodshed at every stage of this miles-long queue, each suitor more beautiful and statuesque than the last.

And when you get to the very front, where I sit like Caesar on a throne made not of marble but made from bathroom selfies and protein shakes, there are the tallest, darkest and most handsome of them all.

Each one is on his knees, praying to his god (that would be me), hoping he’ll be the one selected by me to have uninspiring, brief and regrettable sex in a box room that could really do with vacuuming.

But even I know the truth: ain’t no queue.

“Ages 18–25 only, please. I’ll block oldies and I’m not into daddies.”
I’m an ageist wanker who prefers younger, inexperienced men who perhaps won’t realise I’m a devastatingly disappointing fuck.

“I don’t bite… unless you want me to.”
Spoiler: the sex probably isn’t going to be that good and I will say “fuck, yeah” a lot during the act in the mistaken belief this makes me sound  ‘kinky’. Then I’ll bite you.

“I like going out and staying in.”
I am a deeply complex and unusual person! Sometimes I even do both on the same day! Get on this rollercoaster if you dare!

“I love to laugh.”
That’s not to say I do laugh, or indeed will laugh. The chances of me making you laugh are pretty slim.

Usually when I manage a chortle, it’s at something inappropriate like a child falling over, or you, in three months’ time, telling me that this isn’t really working out.

“Looking for a reason to delete this app.”
I, too, am looking for true love, without which I couldn’t possibly press and hold my finger on the icon of this dating app, then press the little ‘x’ that appears in the corner of the icon, deleting it for ever. Yes, I can definitely only do that once I have collected a slew of marriage proposals, not before.

And when people ask us the story of how we fell in love, I can look at the ground, then at you, then at them and, with a tear in my eye, tell them: “He helped me delete Grindr, and from then, I was hooked”.

“I can’t think what to write here. I’m not that good at talking about myself.”
I get up, I go to work, I come home. Sometimes I’ll go for a drink after work with colleagues. But usually I go straight home. There is TV, takeaways, masturbation. Sometimes Grindr.

Oh, and I also head up an international crime syndicate, have a meth lab in my kitchen and have killed a man – but my life’s too uninteresting to talk about really and I never know what to write on these things.

“I like to stay in with a DVD and a bottle of wine.”
I’ve had all my fun being an amazing, exciting, vibrant, sociable person already – before I met you – and now it’s time for me to settle for the boring inevitability of a relationship before I am too old and ugly to snare anyone. And all my friends are doing it.

After a few dates in the pub, we’ll be staying in a lot, whether you like it or not, talking about what to watch next on Netflix. We’ve had our fun; time to leave the scene to the youngsters.

I am 25.

“I’m very discrete.”
I’m married and do not own a dictionary.

“Whatever happened to all the cool guys on here? Am I really the only one looking for more than just a bunk-up with a faceless body, a spiritual connection with someone where you identify not just on a sexual level, but an emotional one too. I guess I’m being unrealistic looking for something deeper on here, but it would be nice to find out. If that’s not what you’re after, keep on moving.”
Pump me raw, stranger.

More like this:
10 toxic things you really shouldn’t say on your dating profile
10 terrible opening lines for a dating profile 

Thanks to everyone on Twitter who suggested their favourite dating bio clichés.

Image: Chazwags on Flickr

Things I have pretended to like in order to get sex

Football
I remember a very miserable afternoon – a rainy Saturday – spent in a pub that smelled of cauliflower and dog, staring with great concentration at a TV up on the wall. I didn’t really dare look away in case I looked like I was bored and I couldn’t have given two bronze fucks about what was happening on the screen so I fixed my gaze on a spider at the corner of the TV. The spider span a web and then fell onto a table and crawled into a crisp packet. Spider, 1. Man eating crisps, 0.

Opera
Luckily, he didn’t take me to the opera, just played me one on his speakers that were bigger than Kensington and made the floor throb. I recognised a bit in the middle from an advert. He told me what it was but I was too busy wondering when I was going to get to play a concerto of my very own all over his alabaster rack. It turned out to be a very staccato experience.

Radio comedies
When asked whether you’ve heard of something, you should be honest lest you embarrass yourself and get a fact wrong. When my date asked me if I had heard of a particular comedy on Radio 4, I lied through my shiny white teeth and said “Why, yeeeess, it’s brilliant”. He used to play it to me before and after sex – never during, because “that would be weird” apparently – and when we got to the end of the first series I decided I would not be recommissioning him for another go.

A terrible food blog
Never have I pretended to like Instagrammed croissants and love hearts drawn in lattes so fiercely in my entire life.

Aaron
Aaron had very, very pert nipples and I was absolutely dying to see what they were like in the ‘flesh’, so I ignored his boring politics chat, the way he looked at every waiter’s arse as they walked by our table and his penchant for telling me how tired I looked and, when it came down to it, bit those tiny pink beauties very, very hard.

What have you faked so you could get more bang for your buck? Tell me on Twitter.

Image: Flickr

The Time Thief

Clocks. All they do is tick and make people fret. I’ve been waiting at the bar for about 15 minutes now, for the latest contestant in the endless gameshow that is my dating life to turn up. I don’t believe in fashionably late – stylish punctuality is much more my kind of thing – and tardiness should always be explained with a conciliatory text or even a phonecall. So far, nothing.

Everywhere I turn there is a clock reminding me how late my date is. Late, late, late. I can’t look at my wrist any more, above the bar is off limits, and outside, a clock tower looms in my eyeline. And just to serve as one more reminder, even the barman’s wonky eyes are positioned at ten to two. I roll my own baby-blues and go back to studying my rapidly draining pint glass.

I have a bad feeling about this one, I have to say, and his delayed arrival isn’t helping to soothe my worries. He almost seemed too perfect, too good-looking, too eager. His one profile photo, of him and a pudgy mate on a beach in Ibiza, was tempting. ‘All this could be yours’ it seemed to say. I didn’t even bother exchanging much more than the usual pleasantries with this one. I purposefully cut the email chat dead before he managed to woo me with the written word, only to disappoint ‘live’, as happens only too often.

Sometimes, you’ve just got to go for it, throw caution to the wind. At least that’s what every idiot who ever took a stupid risk says. But he looks so good. If something looks too good to be true, it usually is, of course. So where is he now?

Finally, my phone vibrates with that hallowed text. His arrival is imminent, he says, as if he is an emperor or an aeroplane. I stand up from the bar stool and quickly survey myself from top to bottom in a mirrored pillar nearby. Looking up and seeing clocks no longer holds any fear for me, not now I know he’s on his way.

I look OK; I may even have gone to a little more effort than usual. I smooth out the creases in my corduroys – sadly the ones in my face are immovable – and straighten my collar.

Just then, a sound at my right ear. My name. He’s here. I spin round, my face a picture of expectant elation. The joy is shortlived. My mind races back to the profile picture. My shallowness has got the punishment it truly deserves. The pudgy friend is not a friend; he is my date.

Tip: always ask for another photo.

Stats: 37, height unknown, blond/blue
Where:
Central London
Pre-date rating: 8/10
Post-date rating:
4/10

Date in one sentence: To assume is to make an ass of you and me, but mainly, disastrously, me.

More like this: 
The Parent Trap
The Plus One
The Selfie
The Wrong Peter

Image: Flickr

– A truncated version of this post originally appeared in my monthly column in Gay Times.

10 terrible opening lines for a dating profile

As I always say, your dating profile is your storefront, your big shiny window display that you use to get the punters in. But in just a few short sentences, you can turn your gleaming emporium of you into a rundown old convenience store, with dirty canopies, smeared windows, and nothing of interest inside.

All of the following are based on actual openers from dating profiles I have perused over the years.

“I’m kind of like a Charlotte in the daytime and a bit of a Carrie on a night out. Maybe with a touch of Samantha too if you’re lucky LOL. Which Sex & The City character are you most like?”
Mmmm, don’t know. How about whichever one would be least likely to sleep with YOU? Comparing yourself to three of the most irritating TV characters of all time isn’t exactly endearing me to you.

You are not like Carrie. She lives in a shoebox in Manhattan and somehow gets no end of men to fall hopelessly in love with her despite having a brain made of butter and a really whiny voice, along with a self-centred streak wider than the Champs-Elysées. That isn’t going to be happening here.

Miranda is the only one who is in any way OK, but you are not her either. Nobody is.

“Looking for the missing half of a possible Kooples ad campaign.”
Kooples. The dullest shop ever with a smug marketing campaign to match. Notice how any of the so-called couples don’t seem to have been together that long? An irreversible wedge forever between them thanks to a passion for clothes that look like they were designed by committee. It can never last.

“Be prepared to lie if anyone asks where we met.”
Oh, I *will*! I’ll say it was at a sex dungeon. Run by your mother.

“If I can tell you’re gay when you first walk into the room, we probably won’t get on.”
Well, I guess I had better leave my feather boa, Judy Garland tapes and tight lurex vests at home on our first date, and sit tight and try to be all manly on my fun evening out with a massively insecure homophobe.

The thing with douchebags like this is that, more often than not, they’re as big a Kylie obsessive as the rest of us – they just think it makes them, and us, a bad person.

“I’ve got a lot of strong opinions, and I’m not afraid to share them.”
In other words, sign here right on the dotted line for a date filled with half-baked ideas gleaned from Sky News and over-confrontational attacks on the welfare system or Madonna.

“I love long walks on the beach/round the city/in the park/up hill and down dale/toward the guillotine in a big floaty dress.”
We get it. Most people love a long walk or two. This effort to sound earthy and romantic and outdoorsy fails and makes you sound boring, clichéd and desperate. Do people really choose potential partners based, above all else, on a fondness for walking farther than the end of the road and back?

Let the ‘long walk’ conversation come out on the first date, if it really must at all. NB: If you don’t like long walks, feel free to keep this to yourself too.

“FOR SALE: One happy-go-lucky runaround, 2 or 3 not so careful owners, not too many miles on the clock and in fairly good condition. PRICE: Drink in the pub, dinner ONO.”
Oh, I see! You’re a car. See also: mock eBay ads, pastiches of old-fashioned personal columns, parodies of movie posters etc.

On the surface of it, these always seem like a good idea because you think they make you seem quirky and funny.

The sad fact is that they are blisteringly unoriginal, usually misguided (You’re a clapped-out Ford Mondeo? Really?) and say very little about your personality except that you’d rather come across as some clever wit on your profile than reveal anything else about yourself. Besides, I can’t drive.

“Hello there! Thank you so much for clicking on my profile!”
As romantic, sexy and authentic as the announcements in train stations that tell you they are sorry for the delay to the 13:03 to Edinburgh that day, despite it being recorded in a studio in Battersea in the early ’90s.

“I’m creative, intelligent, masculine and fun. I DON’T like mind games and timewasters. I DO like honesty and fidelity.”
I’m not sure you’re being entirely honest about the “fun” part, are you?

I ran this through my dating profile translator machine (my head) and it came back with “I have been cheated on and messed about by all manner of blokes, probably because I’m not that much fun to be with and have lots of bizarre hang-ups.”

Telling people you don’t like timewasters is a bit like telling everyone you love breathing. We get it. Tell us about you, not who you’re trying to avoid.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. Internet dating is a bit weird, isn’t it?”
If you have suddenly woken up from a century-long slumber, I guess it is, yeah.

If you were birthed in the modern world, however, get with the programme and quit this fake bemusement with the internet like you’re a maiden aunt seeing a pair of crotchless knickers for the first time.

More like this:
Decoding dumb clichés on dating bios
10 toxic things you shouldn’t say on your dating profile

The name game brain drain – how to pick your online dating handle

What’s in a name? You don’t know the half of it.

The one thing they forget to tell you when you try online dating is that you have to pick a name for yourself. Yes, not only do you have to fret about whether your pictures make you look pretty or the quality of your babbling blurb, you also have the added trauma of coming up with a profile name. It has to encapsulate everything about you in one easy line. It will appear alongside your picture and could mean all the difference between someone giving a saucy smile and clicking through to find out more or merely an eye roll before scrolling on to the next sweetly monikered singleton.

First things first
The default, I suppose, would be to pick your name. James. Sarah. Rita. Alfred. There they are. Names, names, names all over the place. Chances are, of course, that you are not the only single James out there, so what next? A surname initial maybe? JamesD. Hmmm, that’s gone – try again. How about adding a number? JamesD1. Exciting stuff. Your profile name is up there with a chatroom handle. How about a more meaningful number? Date of birth? JamesD1975. Yes, this is SCREAMING originality, well done. Maybe something like your postcode? JamesSE17. Hmm, not sure about that one, Jimmy. Can’t you at least pick a more salubrious area? So you see the problem. Onward, then.

Hometown glory
One option is to give a nod to your roots. West_Midlands_Wanderer or Blackpool_Bloke both have a ring to them, if you like that kind of thing. Alliteration is key here, for the ultimate effect. London_Lad (mind you, nothing makes me die inside more than a grown man calling himself a “lad”) or Scotland_Saucepot are much better than London_Man_Who_Likes_Trains or Edinburgh_Knitting_Expert

Personality disorder
Some use their profile handle to quickly communicate what kind of person they are. It doesn’t always work out sadly. Men called Lovable_Dreamer are likely to be premature ejaculators, while ladies who Love_To_Laugh are invariably rotten drunks who sit in the corner of the pub crying. Serious_Thinker, Mood_Ring, Optimist567 and Free_Spirit are probably all rancorous bores with acrid BO. It’s just the way it is.

Hobby horse
What about your interests? Like reading? How about Bookworm71? Love to spell words correctly and know your way around a semicolon? Maybe try GrammarBore800. Footie fanatic? I_Will_Spend-My-Entire_Weekend_Watching_Sky_Sports_While_You-Cry_In_The-Kitchen seems to be available. Into baking? Give All_I_Will_Talk_About_Is_Cupcakes a try. I’m sure the offers will flood in.

Literary connection
If you really want to show off and have potential daters pondering your name rather than concentrate on the fact you have either quite clearly lied about your age and your photos are more than 10 years old, go for something quirky out of a book or film. You will think you’re being highly original, but you’re probably not – do a quick search on the site for anyone using a name that’s like the one you’re thinking of before you take the plunge. There are probably about a million Holden_Caulfields, Lizzie_Bennets, Sophia_Westerns and Pip_Pirrips all looking for love too. If picking something from a movie, make sure it’s not a DREADFUL one or a slightly dubious character. Leave Danny_Ocean, Leatherface101,  Baby_Jane_Hudson or Vivian_Ward to one side, perhaps. Also, ladies, maybe give Roxie_Hart a miss too – she was very glam, yes, but she killed her lover and tried to frame her husband.

Grindr name
Okay, so by now you’re getting desperate, right? If you’re on Grindr or a similar ‘hook-up app’, just got for the basics as above, or try the standard ‘Looking_4_Meet_Now’ or ‘Vauxhall, 32’. The easiest way to get noticed, though, is to find your ‘Grindr name’, inspired by the charming men who call themselves BUTT CLEANER or NUTS GOBBLER. My new, magic formula couldn’t be easier:

1. Body part you wash first or last in the shower.
2. One parent’s occupation.

And voilà! Be you a Hand Signalman, Bollock Trucker, Bum Plumber or Toe Psychologist, you’re sure to get *exactly* the attention you’re looking for. And maybe even a little bit more.

10 toxic things you really shouldn’t say on your dating profile

The dating arena is second only to its Roman gladiatorial cousin when it comes to viciousness. But rather than fleeing knife-wielding savages, daters find themselves fighting off the advances of unwelcome, pot-bellied irritants or, more commonly, trying their best to seem attractive to those who probably wouldn’t urinate on them if they were ablaze.

Your dating profile, be it on a reputable dating site or a seedy phone app, is your storefront. It’s your singleton SOS to the slew of eligible bachelor rescue ships bobbing up and down in an ocean of GSOH, WLTM and, occasionally, NSA. So it’s important to get it right, because when you get it wrong, another dot on the radar goes out.

Here are just ten examples of when dating bios go bad. Continue reading 10 toxic things you really shouldn’t say on your dating profile