The World According to Wikipedia

I love the way that a Hopeless Romantic has two meanings. You’re either a person devoted to idealistic love or, well, just pretty much hopeless at it. I like to consider myself somewhere in-between.

Anyhow, Wikipedia seem to be on to something, although I'm not so sure about those rose-coloured glasses though:

Hopeless romantic
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A Hopeless Romantic is a person devoted to idealistic love. They believe in the idea of purity and virtue in a relationship. This view generally leads to disaster since few relationships will fulfill the standards set by a hopeless romantic.

Hopeless romantics believe in love and fairy tales. They dream of roses and candlelight, walking on the beach at sunset, and dancing in the rain. They know that somewhere out there is a knight in shining armour ready to carry them off, or a beautiful princess waiting to be carried off into the sunset. Hopeless romantics believe in true love, and the eternal bliss that comes from being united with one's soulmate is what they crave most.

Hopeless romantics recognise in themselves the ability to love infinitely deeply, and they ache to be loved with the same fervour in return. When a hopeless romantic has someone to lavish their affection on, lavish they do. Hopeless romantics sometimes write love letters full of poetic phrases and send flowers, but mostly they try to find a thousand thoughtful little ways to show their love. They make romance into an art form.

Hopeless romantics wear rose-coloured glasses. In their eagerness to find "the one," a hopeless romantic may either be extraordinarily picky or not discerning enough. Hopeless non-romantics think that hopeless romantics are delusional and too intense. Other than the seeming futility in the search for a soulmate, nothing frustrates a hopeless romantic more than a significant other who does not understand the hopeless romantic temperament.

Sometimes, in this cynical world, it seems like the population of hopeless romantics is declining. One has only to look at the number of movies and songs about love that are currently popular to prove otherwise. It may also seem that there are many more hopelessly romantic women than romantic men. This isn't surprising in a culture where a man might get snapped at for opening the door for a woman. Men and women often have different ways of expressing their emotions, and the number of hopelessly romantic men is probably much higher than anyone could tell simply by observation.

Hopeless romantics are the idealists, the sentimental dreamers, the imaginative, and the fanciful. They give the world its once-upon-a-times and happily-ever-afters. Hopeless romantics may have their feet on the ground, but their souls fly somewhere over the rainbow.

Never Fails To Make Me Laugh

Whilst I was working in Malaysia I picked up a copy of the Daily Express and noticed a very funny Garfield cartoon strip on the back of the paper. Ever since then, it has been a proud addition to my wall at work where a daily inspection never fails to make me laugh.


However, given my complete and utter lack of success on Match.com, I just wonder whether I'm laughing at them, or with them.

Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink

I’m in a bit of a quandary here. I usually ignore "winks" from people on Match.com as they tend to originate from abroad and are a lazy way of communicating. I also tend to steer clear of anyone without a picture – after all, what have they got to hide? But, this is where my dilly of a pickle of a predicament starts.

I’ve received a wink today from someone local whose profile doesn’t include a picture, but never the less seems rather interesting. She lists a number of places she fancies visiting which I’ve always wanted to see, she’s a vet (a career I very much admire in people) plus she has a number of interests that are very different to what I’m interested in – always a handy talking point. Oh, and there’s a child in the equation too (not a problem as far as I’m concerned).

I never try to judge a book by its cover so her profile becomes all the more interesting as, without that picture, it only gives me her personality to go on. Given my lack of success, I just wonder whether I should break my own rules and send a reply.

Am I Getting Paranoid?

There are no voices in my head or anything weird like that, but I’m convinced that people are looking at me as I leave the gym or hard at work there.

I have to keep checking whether my flies are up or if there’s anything hanging out of the end of my nose. Nope, everything always seems to be in order and all body parts appear to be present and accounted for. Do I have a big nose, small nose, bad hair, fat face, slim face, ugly face or even all of them? Am I really getting paranoid?

But rather than concentrating on the negative thoughts, perhaps there’s a positive to these strange “looks” instead. After all, I’m now finding that my current exercise regime is getting a bit too easy, I keep having to increase the weight and machine resistance and my swimming speed has got much, much faster. I’ve also noticed that I’m starting to fill out rather nicely and my polite tan (the sun bed always says “have a nice day” when it finishes) is coming along quite well.

Were those compliments from two (albeit teenage) girls really directed at me? Surely I’m not starting to actually look interesting to the opposite sex? Hmmm, not according to my inbox on Match.com.

Man the Lifeboats

Very occasionally in my life I’m quite content and I almost feel like I’m one of those passengers on a cruise ship lounging on the sun deck, beer in one hand and sun cream in the other. Ah, a time of relaxation and recuperation.

However, that never seems to last long and I always seem to discover that the ship I’m sailing on is called the Poseidon, there’s some nasty looking storm clouds brewing and the sea is full of sharks with frickin’ lasers attached to their heads**.

Yup, just as I thought I was getting somewhere with my Scottish friend that cruise ship has just been holed below the water line and the sea has become decidedly choppy.

She’s now having second thoughts at the idea of a long distance relationship and thanks to another bloke on Match.com who noticed that she was active and had not contacted him for a while, sent her a wallowing message of woe. Her previously chirpy messages then took on a much darker tone as she wrestled with her thoughts and feelings. Whoever said Internet dating was easy?

Anyway, she wasn’t sure whether we should continue e-mailing each other and suggested talking on the phone to see if there was any connection. After all, we might have nothing to say to each other. Never the less, we spoke quite freely for about an hour with little break and a few laughs along the way. It seemed to go OK and my follow up email got a reply with the hint of a continuation. Still, I’ve not heard anything else for a couple of days now (a bad sign perhaps?).

I’ve never had a long distance relationship before and still feel that it would be a fun and exciting challenge for both of us. Naturally, it’s early days yet, and there does appear to be a slight glimmer of sunshine through the storm clouds, but I just can’t stop thinking that I’m going to need that life jacket.

** Rent-a-quote : Austin Powers - International Man of Mystery

The Russians Are Coming...

Or it could be the Americans. I’m not sure.

Yup, I’ve had message from one of our Russian lovelies who is from Stafford, VA, US. She instantly apologises for this and reports that she's actually from Russia and made a mistake when filling in her profile details (like you do). She even supplies a web address where I can see some pictures (yes, she’s fully clothed - you bunch of perverts!) of a remarkably attractive woman (wearing an American football sports top). Naturally, I don’t believe a single word of it, which is a shame, as I’m sure there are genuine Russian ladies searching for their soulmate out there.

However, I have received a real message from a real person – an American girl living and working Scotland. I have mentioned her before in a previous blog and we’ve e-mailed each other a few times, eventually bypassing the Match.com system due to her accidentally revealing her e-mail address in one of her replies.

But what surprises me the most about her is that her replies are frequent and could almost have been written by me. Her sense of humour is pretty much the same as me, her interests are similar (with enough still to make her different) and she seems amazingly honest and open. I think it definitely paid to be more open and honest from her initial contact and admit to what I’m looking for.

Whilst I’m always on the look out for that banana skin and readying myself to fall sharply flat on my face (after all she’s probably in contact with other blokes) there’s something I really can’t put my finger here. I hesitate to say it, but for the first time with this Internet dating lark, I can’t stop thinking about her and I think I’m well and truly smitten. I just hope I don’t go and make a complete and utter arse of myself and mess it all up.

More Stupid Studies Revealed

Apparently, men no longer wear their large beer bellies with pride and it’s all thanks to footballer David Beckham. A study published yesterday suggested that up to 60 % of men dislike at least one aspect of their body with up to a third hating their stomach, a fifth unhappy with their legs and a quarter hate just about everything about their appearance.

Now I’ve heard some complete tosh before, but this pretty much takes the cheeseburger and large fries. Ok, so it’s fairly common for people to dislike parts of their body, but is this sudden change really all thanks to David Beckham and all those other football players who have the tendency to flash their annoyingly flat stomachs and pecks every time they score a goal?

I mean, how many blokes do you know actually nurture their lard bucket of a belly and take pride in its belt bursting presence? They may fill it with kebabs and copious amounts of beer every weekend, but I’m sure they don’t set out to look like a back end of a bus.

Nope, surely it’s got to be the general change in lifestyle choices where, thanks to lots of nagging, we’re all finally realising that a heart attack by the age of 40 is not really a good thing. It’s also been helped by the fact that going to the gym is no longer seen as being “a bit gay”. That, and the fact that women don’t like their men to look like an over weight hippopotamus.

Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining

Well, perhaps, but every time I’ve flown on a plane and we’ve gone through the clouds there’s always been a distinct lack of silver in there. Perhaps there’s a special type that the weather people keep to themselves.

Anyhow, although I’d already suspected as such, I got a call from the job agency today to break the bad news that I hadn’t got that job. At three and a half hours, it was certainly the longest interview I’ve ever attended and my hopes were pretty high on that one. Naturally, I was a bit disappointed, but I’d already prepared myself for the worst and applied for another one. We’ll have to see how that application goes along now.

As for that silver lining, thanks to alwaysd my new and improved profile appears to have struck an accord with at least someone. Admittedly her message was short, sweet and to the point at a mere two sentences. Her profile was certainly interesting and she appears to have a similar sense of humour to me so, although she lives in Scotland (and an American lass too), I thought I’d reply. We’ll have to see whether my writing style crosses the American/ Scottish sense of humour barrier.

Also, I’ve had a reply from the off/on person. She’d been busy studying for an exam and not been checking her messages. No mention on phone call though, but I did have a missed call on my phone with no return number the other day. Her message seemed to be a little more relaxed than before too. Perhaps she’s finally realised that I’m not an axe wielding manic and actually a rather nice guy. Never the less, given the gaps in-between messages, I’m still unsure of what to make of things there.

Finally, here’s my weeks profile details:

Profile views: 12
Messages sent: 1
Messages received: 1

That profile view count is still slipping, but to save myself from complete and utter embarrassment I decided to hold off publishing my profile views for a few days. Why? Well let’s just say that a single digit view count would have been rather flattering.

Are We Really That Selfish?

Last night, my throbbing ankle and I watched a DVD of Bobby Farrelly and Peter Farrelly’s remake of Fever Pitch, which for some odd reason is called The Perfect Match in the UK. It was an OK film, but there was a moment in the film that made me hopping mad (and given the state of my ankle – which is much better today thanks – was a pretty accurate representation of the event).

To cut a long story short, and there’s a bit of a plot spoiler ahead here, Lindsey Meeks and Ben Wrightman are a bit of an item. Trouble is, Ben is obsessed, and I mean obsessed with baseball. So when Lindsey’s job means a trip to romantic Paris (and the sooner the myth of that expensive stink pool is finally exposed, the better) she naturally invites Ben along. Oh, and did I mention that she thinks she may be pregnant too? So guess which option Ben took. Yeap, he um’d and ar’d because there was an important match which he had to attend. You f***king idiot!! As far as I was concerned the next scene would be "Woman dumps the idiotic man" followed by "End credits".

I know I’m certainly not, but I really do hope that men aren’t as selfish as this. I tick so many boxes in the good guy category and yet my inbox on Match.com is as about as full as a vegetarian meet in an abattoir. Never the less, I have a plan, and thanks to a fellow blogger I’ll be making some changes to both my profile and messages. So keep watching this space.

Meet My New Friend Jack….

That’s Mr. Jack to you. Mr. Jack Daniels.

Yeap, after a disaster of a Saturday (and it’s not even over yet) I’ll be having a charming conversation with the inanimate Jack later on today. Buy why this sudden rush of self-pity I hear you ask? Well, my "glass half full" philosophy on life is not going to be dented, but let’s just say a few things this week have not quite gone to plan.

First off, I went for a job interview the other week. They are looking for an enthusiastic programmer to join their team. The job sounds excellent and it would be brilliant if I got the nod and I felt the interview went well. And I could have only been more enthusiastic at the interview if I’d changed my name to Mr. Enthusiastic and entered the room to the tune I’m So Excited by the Pointer Sisters. The guy at the agency then told me they’ve decided to interview another two people and he’d let me know their feedback by Friday. Not all good signs, especially since he didn’t ring yesterday.

Next up, my on/off chat with someone now seems to be more off than on. After a few messages flying backwards and forwards I decided to try the next level by offering my phone number so we can have a proper chat. Needless to say, no more messages have appeared from Match.com or via Mr. Alexander Graham Bell’s wonderful invention.

But it gets worse.

Feeling a little down in the dumps, I decided that a visit to the gym was in order. That never fails to cheers me up, so after a go on the sunbed to replenish my rapidly fading tan it all seemed to be working well. Unfortunately, that was until I left the gym and slipped on some ice in the car park. Frantically attempting to save myself from falling flat on my face (with some moves that would impress those Dancing on Ice judges) I ended up going over on my ankle. I now have a swollen and throbbing ankle and a walk not too dissimilar to Long John Silver. But with a limp.

I’ve also just eaten a post gym jam donut and I’m now suffering from some sort of odd sugar rush. It may down to the aspirin I’ve just taken, but I feel decidedly weird. What a great start to the weekend!

Ladies. I Need Your Help.

Ladies of blog land, I need your help. Even more so if you’ve tried this Internet dating lark.

I want to spruce up my profile so I’m wondering what sort of things catch your eyes whilst you're out hunting. Naturally, any alterations to my profile will remain honest and true to my personality, but perhaps it needs a few key pointers tweaking in order to catch the eye.

So, given the amount of scientists researching men and women these days, I thought I'd conduct my own scientific study with a few questions of my own. Please feel free to leave a comment with your answers:


1. How many blokes typically contact you in a week?
2. How quickly do you filter out the good from the bad?
3. Do you contact blokes or just sit back and wait?
4. What sort of profile puts you off contacting someone?
5. What sort of profile makes you interested?
6. How important are the looks and/or the photograph?