An inbox full of Arnie

English: Walk-behind lawn mower

English: Walk-behind lawn mower (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ever since I made the mistake of signing up to an online dating agency (and swiftly un-signing up might I add), my email account has been deluged with photographs of ripple-chested, mahogany-coloured males, all branded with the legend, “These are real members!”

This claim is patently untrue.

Even if I were interested, which I’m not, how is it that when I was (momentarily) a member, my matches were all either aged seventeen with plooks or portly jokers with an interesting line in ties? There wasn’t a mahogany torso to be found. And believe me, I trawled the site looking for one.

This is the insidious nature of the Internet about which M warned me time and time again. Never subscribe to or look at anything unless you are prepared for it to come back and bite you on the arse. I subscribed in a fit of drink-fuelled loneliness, and now I can’t escape from it. Doomed forever to an inbox full of Arnie look-alikes.

The loneliness which prompted the whole damn thing persists though. I miss His company, His humour, the feeling of His body next to me in bed. I miss seeing His face, the sound of His voice. It goes beyond loneliness though; it is a kind of yearning which can’t be fixed by a date with a man with a rippled chest.

Even the lawn-mower-like roar of His snoring which caused so many grumpy nocturnal stomps to the spare room – I’d give an inbox full of Arnie to hear it again.

4 thoughts on “An inbox full of Arnie

  1. I did exactly that…created a profile on one of THOSE sites one Friday evening after a few glasses of the red stuff and feeling particularly lonely. No photo (no bad thing, keep ’em guessing) and very little in the way of personal information. Perhaps not so surprising that I didn’t get one sniff of a “wink”. But, hey ho, how can you be rejected by someone who doesn’t know you, and vice versa? On Saturday morning, I tried deleting sparse profile via the mobile…well, don’t bother, it can’t be done. Spent next few minutes in sober panic, then had a brainwave. Heading straight for the all-singing-all-dancing laptop (N’s idea, it’s HUGE, you need to go through doorways sideways with it), I deleted my profile before anyone I know had a chance to see it. Especially the married ones….

    • Hi there – I know, it is slightly alarming that this info is kept somewhere in cyberspace and cannot ever be fully erased. I thought I had succeeded in erasing my profile but clearly some kind of trail has remained. Darned red wine! Thanks for reading! X

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