What a jolly good wheeze!

You may have noticed that I haven't posted for a couple of days. You've missed me, right? I know, I know - I didn't phone, I didn't email, I didn't blog - what kind of a correspondent am I? But followers, forgive me! It's because I've been busy lining up dates and going out on them.


Sadly, so far nothing to show for it. However, in the interests of world peace and global  harmony, I have come up with a magnificent scheme. Taraa! 

Recycling!

I went on a date with a guy yesterday - he was nice, but not my type - not that I have any idea what my type is - as you may have already surmised. How can I put it? He was quite presentable, but it was like spending an hour and a half chatting to unobtrusive wallpaper. This doesn't necessarily mean he was unexciting, and I mean that most sincerely; maybe I just didn't bring out the best in him. Is it me? Anyhow, we both recognized it was a no go. 


Afterwards I had a natter with one of my friends who is on the same website as I am and discovered my former potential paramour does, in fact, have at least one attribute my girlfriend is gagging for looking for, something she finds tremendously sexy. (And no, it's nothing rude! Oh, the sewer minds this blog attracts!) Anyway, such serendipity! So I checked it out with her and checked it out with him, and they were both amenable to 'preliminary enquiries'. Marvellous! I could, after all, vouch for his courteousness, his cleanliness, his punctuality, his ability to combine consonants and vowels - goodness, so much going for him! They are now aware of each other's pseudonym, so who knows -this may be me by the end of the year.

(Somebody should have told the poor misguided girl about that concoction.) 


I  cannot say any more on this topic at present, lest it ends up being true love, but I expect she'll divulge all the horrific minutiae if it all goes belly up.  (Bette claps hands in gleeful anticipation - might be a good story ;) Hehe!)


But I don't think this radical new enterprise can work in isolation, so I'm considering starting a collective. We can pass them onto each other - the dating version of a charity shop! It makes so much sense, don't you think?


Update on The Frenchman - absolutely bloody nothing! A flurry of texts (for which, incidentally, dear followers, I went to the MASSIVE TROUBLE of turning English predictive text off - yes, I did) and then... zip.  Silence.  


Oh and by the way, a propos of the above also - I met Stella for coffee today, and we discussed the Beaver Frenchman. "What's his pseudonym?" she asked me. I told her. "Oh yeah, him," she said. "I chatted to him for ages. Total bloody waste of time and effort.'


Tomorrow I'm going to W.H.Smith where I'll buy four notebooks to distribute among my website girlies. They can inscribe all the names of tossers they come across. I was thinking of A6 initially, but maybe A4 might be a better option.