Saturday, 1 August 2009

The Orgasmatron

In his 1973 film, Sleeper, Woody Allen depicts a futuristic world in which people use a machine called an Orgasmatron to 'connect' with one another. This is because all people (except Italian males) are impotent.

Dating in this day and age is also reliant on technology. I have made the brave/ foolhardy/ insane decision to have another go at internet dating. To be fair, one of the motivations for this is financial. I noticed on my bank statement that I had inadvertently forgotten to cancel my subscription, so had been signed up automatically for another 3 months. It seemed so wasteful not to use it. Plus, many of the emails I receive are just too funny for words. I have lost count of how many of the delinquent desperados claim to be looking for their 'sole-mate'. I just know I have had a whole shoal of them.

Two years ago, after meeting Senor Boldon and other ne're-do-wells online, I was contacted by Atticus, a criminal lawyer from Northumberland. I named him Atticus as his favourite book was (like mine) To Kill a Mockingbird. He wrote very gushing but sweet emails about my beauty, charm and wit (he is but flesh and blood, how could he resist)? Also, whilst I was in New York with Madam Noir he sent recommendations for our itinerary. He was right about The Met (absolutely breathtaking, we could have spent years in there), less so about The Frick. That was a little stuffy, all those Gainsboroughs brought me out in Barbara Cartlanditis. It is a terrifying disease, weeks after my visit I found myself swathed pink chiffon, plastered with frosted blue eyeshadow and wonky coral lipstick. Worse still, I discovered a family of yappy Pomeranian dogs nesting in my lacquered, bouffant, fibre-glass hair.

I digress, Atticus seemed to be of the view that we should meet straight away. I am a little more cautious, I have a whole catalogue of questions I like to get out of the way first. I call this my 'Fred West' test. A bit of deep probing prior to a first date is sensible. Some of my favourite questions:
  • What kind of tea bags do you use? (it is a scientifically proven fact that most serial killers opt for Typhoo, the exception to that rule was Harold Shipman, who was partial PG Tips with his Abbey Crunch).
  • What is your biggest regret?
  • Describe your perfect day (I like this one)
  • What is your favourite love song? (imagine my horror when one guy opted for a Celine Dion song).
Anyway, I think Atticus got quite bored of my questioning techniques, and began to be rather erratic in his communication. Shortly after I hooked up with an IT programmer (called G Spot Joe) and soon forgot about the arbitrary attorney.

The point of this is, two years later, I take the plunge and post my profile back on and wouldn't you know, I instantly get a message from Atticus:

'so, text me, when are we going on our date?'

The problem is, so much time has passed I can't remember which tea bag category the cove was in. Even more worrying, in the passing years he has changed career from lawyer to teacher. I have always said, I could never date a fellow Stepford. What to do?

Footnote: another dilemma. You know how much I love my beautiful, rough-coated lurcher, Hetty. Well, look at this handsome chap: a male version of Hetty is now looking for a home!!! I have spent all day thinking about the rakish rogue.


  1. 1. Give Atticas a whirl-you are not a Stepford, he may not be a Stepford. How will you know? You may have a bit of common ground. What's the worse that can happen?
    2. Male lurcher looks beautiful - imagine himself and Hetty stepping out together of an evening. All heads would turn to stare!

    NB Just had a thought - why not send Atticas a questionnaire full of the questions you would like to know the answers to. That way, if he doesn't cut the mustard, you needn't bother to meet in person?

  2. I went to the kennels to see the male lurcher today. There are a long list of people interested in him (of course). But, the RSPCA lady told me she would approve me, if I wanted him I could have him. Oh, the dilemma. However, I think he seems a little boisterous, I am looking for a more placid hound. Poor old Kipper couldn't stand some frisky adolescent on his patch.

    I have said I would foster a lurcher for the summer hols though. It will keep me out of trouble. I may get one this week.

    We shall see about Atticus. I have a feeling he may turn out to be a Fannius Ratticus though (the latin term for the fanny rat)!!!