The dangers of the Guardian

In a highly controversial move, He Who Knows Everything has begun buying the Guardian on a Saturday. I told him this makes him a Leftie (amongst other things I’m too polite to mention) but he claims that as he buys the Sunday Times, it evens itself out. Somewhat illogically, I read all of the personal adverts. It was something of an education.

It’s not anything I’ve paid much attention to before. My natural reserve finds something distinctly unappealing in the notion of telling the whole world how great one is and how you, yes you, should definitely date one this instant. Given this pre-formed notion, it is perhaps unsurprising that I didn’t find the adverts terribly promising.

Take the ones which claimed “Personality more important than looks”. There are two things this could mean. Either the man who has written it is really ugly or, and the more likely of the two: He is a dickhead. Telling a girl that personality is more important than looks is even worse than being hearing the words “Don’t worry, it’s what you do with it that counts.”
While both of these statements are true, it doesn’t mean we wish to be reminded of them. We all prefer to believe that are not applicable to us.

Then there are the cheesy ones:
“Eccentric, passionate M, 38, recovering r/ship disaster area, seeks F rescue team of 1”
I’m never going to reply to that and not just because he is from Norfolk. When sent through my internal (and admittedly extremely cynical) translator, it comes back with “Bloke, dumped, seeks sympathy shags with multiple women. Will not call you as pretending to be heart broken over ex.”
“Corny Fairytale! Grumpy, warty toad, 50, urgently needs princess, 30-45, to kiss and discover her Prince Charming!”
Maybe it’s the exclamation marks, maybe it’s the desire for a woman 20 years his junior; I just can’t shake the feeling he is some kind of middle management who is shorter than 5ft 9.

Being a fair minded individual (stop sniggering at the back) I felt it unfair to rail on the men alone and turned to the women. Predictably, they were a lot better although not better enough to make me wish I fancied girls.
“Who dares wins! Slim, attract, 40s brunette, happy, dry-humoured, fem, generally normal but occasionally quirky, seeks kind, thoughtful, 40s M, who is brave enough to leave a message”
Can somebody call her and tell me if she is a great as I imagine she is? I’ll just bet she bakes her own cakes, drinks too much and laughs in a manic cackle. She probably doesn’t though. She probably regards quirky as filling in a form with a green biro.

My top prize for stupidness, out of all the columns, goes to this one:
“H’some and charismatic guy, alternative therapist, intellig, artistic, passionate, free-spirited, assertive, creative, 35, seeks company of unassertive, slim, quintessentially fem F”
Is it just me or is that one going to end up in being tied to a tree in Epping Forest at Midwinter surrounded by chanting lunatics in robes? And what kind of self-respecting girl is happy to be unassertive? Sure, when you are 16 and having to be an adult and secretly wish an older man would take you in hand and run everything for you, then maybe… but that is merely the desire for a parent substitute.

So, having deeply criticised all of these people, it seams only fair to have a crack at writing one of these things about myself. Describe myself and what I want in around thirty words. As the great thinker of our time says: How hard can it be?

Ahem.

Green-eyed Posh Cymraig, 27, charmingly unattractive with slightly mad hair. Well read and depressingly liberal. Likes: tea, pointless philosophising, cats, art and destructive machinery. Preference given to the mechanically gifted.



All replies to my inbox please boys…

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