Don’t we all?
Especially when we’re writing dating profiles. Is there anything worse?
My first attempt was at least honest:
Slightly, chubby, divorced 42 year old with stroppy Teenager and confused cat seeks soul mate. P.S. I have MS. Apply within.’
I didn’t post it.
Now I am of a certain age, and have been single since being brutally dumped when I was first diagnosed with MS, I think it would be kind of nice to have a Significant Other.
Someone to share a croissant and hot chocolate with? Maybe we could browse around a second-hand book store before linking hands and wandering to the nearest cafe. We would navigate the cobble-stones and laugh when I tripped. Again. We would exchange smug, knowing looks.
He would Understand. He would smile at my speech hiccups, when I swap consonants and slur (just a little). My Scottish accent would of course win him over. He would take my arm and guide me when he saw that I was weaving around like crazy.
I can picture him, rugged face, scarf (I know, weird, huh?), piercing eyes. If you find him, please let me know.
Back in the real world, I have read all the advice. First and most importantly, the majority of people meet the love of their lives in work. Last Thursday I was surrounded by nine men. I was quite overwhelmed at one point and had to take a Diet Coke break.
However. Four were scaffolders (all married), three were solar panel electricians (all married, one unhappily), two were plumbers (both married).
So that’s a no-go then.
Next piece of advice is, ‘talk and interact with everyone you meet, they may just surprise you!’
I went to the Co-Op and lurked around the steaks. Aha. A man. ‘Um, garlic butter or just, you know, butter?’ I asked, with an artfully-raised eyebrow. He scarpered. I was the strange person in the steak place. It’s come to this.
I slunk home, defeated.
I re-wrote my profile: ’42 (but don’t look it), divorced (happily), one Teenager and no cats. MS. Apply within.
So far, zero replies. But you never know?