On the Couch

I hardly slept a wink last night and it’s just typical of me. No sooner have I turned out the light, rather than turning my thoughts – or rather having no thoughts - to getting some sleep I end up thinking of something completely different. I guess the regular readers (of which there aren’t many) will have little trouble in guessing what was on my mind.

Now, I wasn’t feeling all morose or bitter about yet another dating failure, but I was searching through every neurone in my brain trying to figure out just why it happened. Again. Why I am just a "nice guy" and simply nothing else?

As with most of my previous meetings, everything seemed to look promising. My profile pictures must have passed some sort of mental filtering, my profile details must have raised some form of interest and our chats on the phone must of provided a further insight into my personality to gauge some form of interest and prompt the meeting. Surely each of my dates can’t have just been after a free lunch or trip to the cinema?

So, how can something so promising disappear down the toilet so quickly? My pictures and profile are the total and absolute truth. I’m only myself and no one else and I’m enough of a gentleman to say please and thank you, hold a door open for a someone and pass genuine complement on a person – so why the rejection? Am I being too nice?

I can only assume that my various profile photographs don't contain sufficient information to pass the thirty-second test. You know, the test that every woman does when first meeting someone. Time temporarily freezes whilst they picture you being the father of their children, what it would be like to kiss you and what you’d look like naked. Fail any of these and you’re pretty much a gonna.

I know that I’m not the most attractive bloke on the block, but I had hoped that I wasn’t the ugliest either. Perhaps I’ve been far too over confident with my looks, even though I’m broad shouldered and fairly muscular with good leg muscles. One person even thought I was a rugby player – albeit a fairly short one. Are my looks really that bad – even once my front tooth is corrected (which I’m finally having done this week). Is 5 foot 7 really too short?

Maybe it’s because I don’t own my own property – even though I own my own car and I’m completely debt free - but how many single people can afford to get on the property ladder in the UK these days? Is renting and/or sharing with friends really such a bad thing? Perhaps it’s more of an issue than I thought, but shouldn’t the person come before materialistic things - plus I’m not the only person on Match.com who is sharing.

So, any tips and ideas on how to help solve my predicament would be much appreciated.