RSVP for beginners

A male friend has been badgering me to join RSVP. He reckons I’m “ready” and messaged me yesterday saying: “looking forward to hearing some progress from you on your to-do list.”

Top of his to-do list: create a RSVP profile.

I’m not sure that I am ready to go on RSVP. But I’ve signed up so I can give you a full report on what it’s like behind the “just browsing” privacy wall … I swear that’s the reason …

All the women in the 45-55 age group seem dauntingly gorgeous, but the men … don’t. Well, some are good looking, but they’re invariably interested in water sports. Being interested in water sports immediately rules them out, since I can’t swim and, if you remember, once got a bunch of flowers from a bloke with the message “for a Pisces who doesn’t like water, some flowers to put in it” or something to that effect (I found the actual card when I was moving recently and saw the actual bloke at a 50th birthday a few weeks ago after about 15 years, but didn’t say hello … coward … blather, blather, get on with it Alana)

Not that hawt looks are important to me, but there has to be something about their face that appeals and it’s preferable that one of their profile pics doesn’t feature them pretending to lick a penis cake (I swear, one of them was).

Writing my profile was a little freaky, because before I’d even finished writing it there were all these pings (or are they called “kisses”?) from blokes. Well, maybe not pings, more like blip, blip, blip noises … I was being “viewed” as I agonised over what to say. Eeeeek. It would seem Friday night is prime time for uploading yourself to the masses.

Actually, after checking the “kisses”, they were a bit “arghbleah!” … contenders for men most likely to mug you in a dark alley.

I ended up being a bit cheesy with my opening gambit: “Tickle my funny bone.”

Great or gag on a spoon?

It was so bloody tricky choosing my profile pic because I HATE photos of myself. So there are hardly any and I’m hyper-critical of them all. I went for this one …

Too crinkly around the eyes? Too scruffy around the ‘do? Not enough make-up? Huge honker?

Speaking of profiles, I’m a fine one to talk about the blokes on RSVP saying universally awful/daggy/retch-worthy things or calling themselves the most inappropriate names, like Red Ducati or All Heart And Feelings or Dogs Bollocks, because mine is pretty lame (appalling considering I write for a living).

But still, I haven’t read a single profile – yet – that has tempted me.

I was particularly NOT tempted by the profiles that kicked off with things like …

“Naughty but nice.”

“Hey .. !!! Do you think you can keep up? Maybe !!”

“Bond …. James Bond.”

“Throw me a line and I’ll tow you to paradise.”

“You have to be pretty special…”

“Looking for some yummy brown chocolate? Zero calories guaranteed!”

“Wishing you enthusiastic confibularities just for reading my profile..”

“I always thought that this was cheating, but hey, I’ll give anything a go, got to be in it to win it !”

“You can feel the the pain and torture i have been through when you look deep into my eyes..”

Am I being too fussy? I’m being too fussy, aren’t I? But the thought of actually meeting someone for a drink who has already turned me off slightly with their profile doesn’t feel particularly promising.

It makes me very jealous of my male friend who’s been egging me on, because he doesn’t need to go on RSVP – women keep falling at his feet. He scored some dancer’s phone number at a singles’ night last week. I suggested he take me to the singles’ night next time, since it was such a hot spot (well, aside from the chick who launched into a story about all the raw cabbage she was eating to lose weight … which reminds me of the time I was in the Woolies queue and watched a woman devour a quarter of a cabbage while she waited at the check-out … creepy) but he said none of the blokes were suitable.

Right.

Well that sucks.

As does RSVP.

Woe is me.

Ooooh, that rhymes.

Song of the day: Howard Jones “No one ever is to blame”