Borders

I was browsing the Psychology section in Borders this evening and came across this . I found it to be a slightly inappropriate addition to the 'Dummies' series of books.

The bookshelf next to this one was filled top-to-bottom with those wretched and inexplicably popular books that give autobiographical accounts of child abuse. This might sound a bit heartless but I can't help feeling anybody self-obsessed enough to write a book titled 'The Little Prisoner: How a Childhood Was Stolen and a Trust Betrayed' deserved to be locked in the garden shed for 6 months.

Why not walk it?

The Londoners among you may have seen the posters from Transport for London which advertise walking.

http://www.tfl.gov.uk/corporate/media/newscentre/4939.aspx

This seems like a desperate measure akin to your local housing authority encouraging homelessness as a viable alternative to living in a house.

The Test

I won't go into the details but this evening I found myself with a male nurse called Larry in my flat. As part of a scheduled medical examination he asked me a series of questions about my health and then, without warning produced a plastic tube and asked me casually for a urine sample.

I had several problems with this. For starters I'd had no warning about this requirement. In fact, I'd been specifically told not to drink anything for 30 minutes before the nurse's visit as he would be taking a sample of my saliva. For this reason I was running a little dry. In addition to this I was deeply concerned about the small circumfrence of the sample tube and the possibility of spillage. I looked for a moment at Larry expecting that he would reach into his bag a produce some kind of funnel to assist me in filling the tube. I could see nothing was forthcoming and Larry was beginning to look a little impatient.

Despite everything being against me I adeptly filled the tube without any spillage. I popped the top on the tube and returned to the living room proudly clutching a sample of my piss. I offered it to Larry expecting that he would carefully place the tube in his bag and take it away to the lab for testing. It seemed that this was not to be the case. He was holding some kind of plastic probe which he explained would need to be dipped into my sample. On his request I unscrewed the cap and he dipped his probe into my urine. As he removed the small plastic stick he accidentally flicked some of the liquid onto my hand. I was now in a somewhat awkward situation. Standing in my living room with a complete stranger holding a vial of my own piss, some of which was on my hand. He noticed the spill, I noticed the spill but politeness prevented me from mentioning it. Despite my near-uncontrollable desire to go and wash my hand I found myself feigning interest as Larry carelessly waved his probe around proclaiming loudly about the very fine specimen I had produced for him.

Moments later, Larry is preparing to leave. As he packed his bag he explained that he used to be a professional Elvis impersonator. He only became a nurse following the rise of the new-romantic movement and a subsequent downturn in demand for Elvis impersonations.

Sometimes life doesn't go quite as we had planned.

The Reply

So on Friday I had a reply from one of the girls I sent a message to.  I guess I was fairly overwhelmed to be thrown so quickly into an email relationship with a girl I hadn't met face to face.  Things seemed to be going really well and 2 emails into the relationship I was already imagining our first date, then years later the laughter we'd share about the way in which we met and ultimately the innocent face of our first child.  Sadly, my third email sent at 6pm on Friday was to be our last contact.  She never replied.  Perhaps I'd been a little naive in thinking we had something special.  Maybe I should have known that a whirlwind romance like this can't last forever.  I guess on some level I always suspected she'd been bcc'ing someone else behind my back.

This Time it's Personals

Last week I finally weakened and jumped feet first into the ocean of desperation we call online dating. This has been so far one of the single most depressing decisions I have ever made.

The first step in the process is to fill in a kind of questionaire about likes, dislikes, physical characteristics and qualities desired in a partner. Next I am tasked with writing a couple of paragraphs which serve to entice like-minded women into my world. 'Why should you date me?' the heading reads. I'm inclined to tell the truth - 'move on, you can do better than me, I'll only hold you back'. This is not the positive mindset I need to fill this thing in.

Several hours have passed and I've settled on a bland description of myself which I've subtly engineered to tick each of the boxes in a Cosmo 'what women look for in a man' article I read when I was 19.

Now the worst bit. I have to choose a photo of myself to upload. The key is, I decide, to select a picture which shows me in an honest light. The last thing I want to do is present myself in an unrealistically attractive light. I don't think I could stand that awkward first meeting. She walks into a restaurant, I watch her face as she sees me in the flesh for the first time. Her face drops momentarily in a look of disappointment just for a second before she realises and corrects her smile.

Once the profile is complete it's simply a waiting game. An agonising waiting game. Several horrifying and unexpected things hit me as the days tick by without contact from the other side. Previously I was relatively content in the idea that my two and a half years of single life were mainly down to my not putting myself out there. The problem is that now I'm out there and I'm being silently rejected by thousands of single (probably desperate) women every second of every day.

I login to the site daily only to be confronted by a page of heartless statistics and vomit-inducing sucess stories. The statistics tell me that 38 women have viewed my profile. I've been rejected by 38 women this week. That's more than 5 every day. What's worse is that some of these women are hideous. These girls are checking me out in detail and then deciding, 'no I think I could do better'. For some of these of girls a date with me would be like winning the fucking lottery but still they pass me by.

This evening I made the decision to be proactive and send some messages to girls that looked interesting. First I have to choose some likely candidates. I try to home-in on the pictures of pretty girls who look like they might have low enough self-esteem to consider me. I read a few of their profiles. As I'm reading them I'm imagining a relationship with each girl. Within seconds I've day-dreamed about our first date, our clumsy first kiss, introducing her to my parents, the day we move in together and ultimately the break down in communication that eventually leads to a lengthy and painful break-up.

I've sent 2 messages now and to be honest I'm punching above my weight with the ones I've chosen. You've got to set your sites high though haven't you? Once again the site shows me agonising detail about my dating attempts. I can see now that one of the girls has read my message. I now have to ask myself, what is the cut off point? If she hasn't replied by tomorrow does that mean she's not interested. No reply on Saturday, I bet she's showing her friends my message and they're all laughing about how someone like me thought he would stand a chance with a girl like her.

If this doesn't work I may have to try speed-dating, please don't let it come to that.

Ronaldo Scores - Jesus Saves

Yesterday while the nation set itself up for largescale disappointment I sat out in Hyde park enjoying the sunshine. I found myself sitting close to a group of about 15 people, all dancing, singing and banging tamborines. The tunes that they were passionately belting out in close harmony were very upbeat and modern sounding. The chorus of each song was pretty much the same, always mentioning either Jesus, the Lord or our heavenly father. The songs themselves were pleasant enough but what really bothered me was the enthusiastic clapping and dancing with eyes closed while in a public place. If God had wanted us to do this sort of thing he wouldn't have given us inhibitions.

Oxford English Dictionary Submissions 2007

I've been compiling a list of terms that describe aspects of modern life. I will be submitting them to the OED panel for inclusion in next year's dictionary.

Underground Bummers - Unsporting scallywags who walk right behind you through the barriers to avoid buying a ticket for the tube.

Urban Slalom - Zig-zag pattern walked by shoppers in an attempt evade smock-wearing charity pests.

Pavemagnetics - Invisible force that keeps the oversized jeans of todays youth aloft whilst remaining at least 4 inches below waist-height.

Ikea Impotence - Feeling of helplessness experienced by people who need to visit Ikea but don't have access to a car.