Lauren – Marcello M Dating Blog

I was having a coffee at 7.00am in the lounge. Armando, my handsome gay Spanish housemate entered and greeted me in his usual charming manner. We chatted a moment then he asked how Rachel was. I told him we had just broken up – and that it was pretty final.

His face folded into a sad emoticon, “be strong, darling,” he said.

That evening I visited my childhood friend Beth. She consoled me and, while acknowledging the fact that Rachel was lovely, remarked that I always “pick the crazy ones”.

“Come on, that’s a lazy cliché,” I said.

“Ok, what about that Peruvian girl that didn’t say anything?”

“Maria? She didn’t speak English.”

“Right.”

“She was hot though.”

“Sure. What about that born-again Christian girl you used to go to the theatre with?”

“Jess? She slept with Mike.”

“I see.”

Nevertheless, later that evening Beth persuaded me to try online dating.

The whole process appeared straightforward enough. I began by selecting three photographs:

• Me on a skiing holiday (adventurous)
• Me in the pub with friends (popular)
• Me at a black tie event (successful)

However I still needed a main picture and, feeling dissatisfied with my merge portfolio, began snapping self-portraits. It took me seven attempts but I eventually found the right angle and pose (the hint of a smile, knowingly good-looking but relaxed about it, “hey – this is me. I’m just a guy, yeah?”). I then cropped out my shoulder to give it the appearance of a candid shot.

Next I signed up for the site where one’s friend writes the profile. I assigned this task to Beth, the rationale being that with a woman’s endorsement I am less likely to be perceived as a pervert or psychopath.

Anyway, after much online “liking” and “winking”, I arranged to meet up with Lauren – a striking brunette (according to her sun-lit profile).

We decided to meet after work at Gordon’s, a pokey wine-bar by Embankment station. The cave-like interior was cosy yet unhelpfully dim. My date and I should be able to see each other, that part was important. I therefore decided to take up position outside and pretended to casually peruse the Evening Standard with one eye on the road – and a keen awareness of my body language.

Twenty minutes passed and I was growing tired of trying to arrange myself like some kind of down-market David Gandy. It was then I saw a dowdy brunette heading towards me. I wasn’t entirely sure but it could have been Lauren – albeit five years older and three stone heavier. The girl started working away at her mobile. My heart quickened as she glanced round. If my phone vibrates, I thought, I am going to flee.

It did not and I went back to my paper. Lauren, when she did turn up, was every bit as beautiful as her profile suggested. She was also perfectly charming. Channelling an oily Brosnon-era-Bond, I kissed her on both cheeks, continental style.

Despite this we hit it off. Internet-dating it seemed was not dissimilar to regular dating. We covered precisely the same topics while I endeavoured to be funny, enigmatic, intelligent, ambitious, caring and chivalrous all at the same time. The usual.

Lauren and I did get somewhat carried away and drank several bottles of wine. It was only then that the mask of decency slipped. I leaned across the table and said, “you’re gorgeous”. She smiled and we began snogging. As I recall we were not a good kissing match, rather than a fluid Sting and Trudy style union, we aggressively gnashed our teeth together pausing only to drink or visit the bathroom.

The following day Beth and I convened at our local for a catch-up.

“Well?”

“Yeah, I texted her to say I had a nice time and that she was very lovely.”

“When? Today?”

I shook my head.

“Last night?”

I nodded.

Beth’s expression suggested that I had made an error.

I said, “I forgot that I sent it so I sent her a similar one today.”

“Ok.”

“Yeah, then when I didn’t get a reply I sent it again. It’s just the signal keeps cutting out in my office, things get lost and that.”

She didn’t say anything so I added:

“You know.”

Feeling hot, I took on a more jocular tone:

“Anyway, she texted to say she didn’t think it would work – but you know, whatever, that’s fine. I have my theories about it all. See, Lauren and I are both very good looking people, right? I reckon we’re like magnets with the same polarity – no matter how hard we try; we just keep pushing each other apart. It’s nature, right?”

“Did you get that from some film?”

“No.”

Beth just looked at me. It’s ok though, she didn’t have to say anything – I know she understood. Besides, I already had the next one lined up.