The first date had been with Dean, a 36 year old accountant with a passion for sky diving. They had chatted and flirted over the website’s messaging system, talking and getting to know each other. Finally Dean had suggested that they meet and arranged to see Charlotte on a Wednesday outside a classy bar in the city centre.
Charlotte had waited for half an hour, checking and rechecking the location he gave and the date. She went so far as to send him a message on the site asking where he was. There was no reply and humiliated Charlotte had gone home close to tears. She had known that people in the bar had been watching, they had seen her get stood up and were probably talking about how pathetic she was.
Things were made even worse when she got a message from Dean the next day saying that he had in fact been there but had taken a look at her and decided against it. Especially considering how much she badgered him when he was a little late. Apparently she had failed some sort of test he set and Charlotte gladly washed her hands of Dean.
The second date had been with Elliott, a 30 year old estate agent. Charlotte had been smarter this time when they decided to meet, insisting on getting his mobile number and spending a couple of days texting and chatting over the phone before she agreed to actually meet him in person. Thankfully he didn’t suggest the same bar as Dean had; instead he chose a restaurant that Charlotte had already told him that she was fond of.
She had texted him before she left her home, making sure that he too was on the way before she set out. She still ended up waiting 15 minutes despite Elliott living closer to the restaurant than her. She finally gave in and called him, asking where he was.
It was only minutes later that he came bowling down the streets and when he skidded to a stop in front of her panting she could smell the vodka on his breath. He was swaying slightly too and his eyes were glazed. She challenged him on it and he finally admitted that he had had one or two small drinks ‘to give him courage’. Charlotte figured out while they were eating that he regularly needed ‘courage’ and refused the offer or a second date.
Charlotte’s third date was with a charming chap by the name of Percy. She had been a little tipsy when she had replied to his friendly enough email, drinking her way through a small bottle of wine to get over the disappointment of her date with Elliott. She was well aware of the irony but chose to ignore it, preferring simply to blot it out. His profile had seemed interesting and their conversations entertaining, if a little formal.
Percy eventually suggested a meet up after almost two weeks of talking by text and phone calls, his voice shaking so much that he could barely get the words out. Charlotte gladly accepted, sure at last that she had found a man with manners who might actually not humiliate her. Initially she was proved right. He arrived at the pub first and waited for her outside, shaking hands tightly gripping a bouquet of flowers.
He had been a perfect gentleman as he had led her to their table, holding out her chair for her to sit in and taking charge of the wine ordering. It was as they waited for their food to arrive that Charlotte began to get the idea that he might not be as perfect as he appeared. It began when she complimented him on his location choice and he admitted that it had been suggested by his mother.
She shrugged it off at first, figuring that there was nothing wrong with a man who spoke to his mother regularly. It was after the fourth phone-call from her to Percy and his seventh or eighth story that revolved around her that Charlotte began to realize that there was already a woman firmly ensconced in Percy’s life and it wasn’t her. Finally Percy admitted that he still in fact lived with his mother and Charlotte had quickly wished him well and left.
It was the fourth date that was Charlotte’s breaking point. Martin, 32, had seemed nice enough and he was very friendly when they talked on the messaging system, even if he did share a little too much of himself too quickly.
Charlotte had felt a twinge of warning in her gut within the first week of texting and calling but she ignored it, truly hoping that this 6’3” lawyer and part time rugby player could be the one. His picture was handsome and his hobbies seemed to mesh well with her. Her hopes were shattered into tiny pieces when she finally agreed to meet Martin though. They met in a somewhat seedy part of town and she quickly realized that Martin’s 32 was in fact 23, he was not a 6’3” rugby player but a 6’3” bean pole who played World of Warcraft more than was possibly healthy.
The picture he had used clearly wasn’t him either but the features were similar enough that Charlotte decided it must be a relative. Martin had turned up with a gift but it wasn’t flowers, instead it had been a bottle of perfume of the variety worn by grandmothers that was heavy, cloying and musky. Charlotte had sneezed as soon as she smelt it, the scent tickling her nose and she hadn’t even bothered to create an excuse for leaving. Instead she had turned around and simply walked away after looking Martin up and down and saying no.
She had had enough and said as much to her friends when they all came around to her house for lunch that Saturday.
“Oh don’t give up now Bernie,” cried Sylvia “You’re bound to meet the right person for you.”
“Yeah, he’s out there somewhere,” agreed Beth who was happily married “I mean… look how well you’ve been doing so far, you have had dates and they all did turn up. Well apart from that Dean bloke but to be honest I think you’re better off.”
“Definitely,” interrupted Chloe, “its like, a chartered accountant who likes sky diving? That just screams weirdo to me and anyone who sets that kind of test isn’t worth the time of day.”
“I suppose I could try a little longer. I did pay for 4 months after all,” Charlotte said with a sigh.
Her friends cheered and insisted that she pull out her laptop straight away so they could look over her profile and pick out men for her to message. The group managed to empty 3 bottles of wine and had to be picked up by partners and friends by the time they grew bored of ‘man shopping on the internet’ as Sylvia called it. Charlotte went to bed with a fuzzy head and the decision firmly in her mind that she would give it one more go and see where it took her.
***
The next day she got a message from a New Zealander based in the UK called Bruce Adams and her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw his picture. He was almost unbelievably handsome with thick wavy blond hair, a chiseled jaw and he looked tall and muscular, exactly the kind of man that Charlotte longed to date.
She began to question what a man who seemed so perfect was doing on a dating website; surely he would be able to get any woman he wanted without the help of the internet. She opened his profile and read through it and began to think more and more that he was perfect for her, exactly what she was looking for.
He was normal and adventurous, lived alone, supported himself, was spontaneous but steady and liked many of the same things that Charlotte liked. His hobbies included hiking and watching TV, he wanted to see more of England, including the pubs. Finally Charlotte gave in and opened the message Bruce had sent.
“Sylvia, Sylvia!” Charlotte cried down the phone later that evening. “I found him, I found the perfect man for me!”
“See!” Sylvia said back somewhat sleepily. Charlotte noticed guiltily that it was almost midnight “I told you that you’d find Mr. Right eventually, you just had to stick with it.”
“I know!” Charlotte said “Thanks so much for telling me to hang on.”
“So…” Sylvia said, sounding a little more awake “What’s he like?”
Charlotte went into a long explanation of the messages that she and Bruce had exchanged that day. The two friends talked for a long time but when Charlotte noticed that it was now 2 in the morning she insisted that Sylvia go to sleep. Charlotte decided to go to sleep too, happy and joyful at the prospect of finally having some luck with a man.