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Why do you always do this to yourself? Why do you put yourself through this agony without fail?” Gemma says to herself, after another letdown from one of the guys she met on those dating sites. These questions kept coming up every time she had been disappointed by these fuckers from online dating sites.

You meet a guy online, he seems great on paper, you chat daily, you sometimes feel he’s too good to be true. He’s trying his utmost to impress you, however, it makes you feel good when someone pays attention to you. Telling you, you are beautiful and any guy would be lucky to have you.

He keeps the conversation flowing and messages you often. He shares his ambitions and goals with you. He even tells you about his previous relationships. It’s one of the two, he’s divorced, or he just broke up with his girlfriend. You meet all these guys on these dating sites who promise you the world.

Tinder, Academic Singles, Zoosk, Badoo and all the other crap sites that are free or require a minimal subscription fee. You say to yourself, “Just give it one more try Gemma, what harm could there be?” Here you go again, you sign up once again, after you have cancelled your subscription numerous times and have already deleted the app off your phone.

Here is how online dating apps work. They ask basic questions, some delve a bit deeper like what your perfect date would be like, what occupation your soul mate would have and how much money they earn. Some apps talk about ambitions, how many kids you want to have, if any, how tall your “dream boat” should be, even down to the colour of his hair.

Well you’re all set. You answer the questions, add a profile and some pictures. It should be pictures that display your best side. Selling yourself to the millions of single dashing men out there and hoping that one will look your way and you get a match. Well, it’s not all rainbows and stars. After searching through all the trolls and creepy men with the dodgy offers and suggestions, you find a few good ones or so you think, ha ha ha, laughing to yourself.

It started with a “Hi, how are you? What’s a woman like you doing on a dating site?” You feel flattered that this tall guy with the blonde hair and blue eyes has messaged you. You contemplate whether to quickly send a message back or play coy and wait a few hours before replying.

You decide on the latter and wait until you’re home.

You say to your blue-eyed stranger that you thought you would give the dating app a try and see what all the fuss was about. He sends you a lol and an emoji that tells you he doesn’t believe your story. You just laugh it off. You ask each other basic questions. Where are you from, what work do you do, what do you do for fun, what do you on weekends. The conversation flows and you hit it off. You feel the butterflies in your stomach when he asks you when you are free to go on a date.

You must know for a single woman to be asked on a date is like winning R1000 or a gift voucher to spend money on clothes or shoes. You’re over the moon; it’s been a long time since someone decent asked you on a date. Not those late- night booty calls from that disgusting asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.

You hesitantly agree but in your mind you have already picked out a dress, thought about shoes, hair and makeup. “Shit,” you realize you would need to add a few more gym sessions to look a bit leaner for the upcoming date.

You then start to freak out because you have nothing to wear as everything in your closet makes you look fat. Wtf. Fuck, now you have to shop for a dress that makes you look awesome, because you want to make a great first impression. In your mind he could be the “one” not the forever one but the one you could spend time with and fill your empty weekends with.

It’s Sunday and you and Mr. blue eyes have arranged to meet on Friday. You made an exception because you normally don’t go out Friday’s, but he looked worth it, like really fucking worth it. So that gives you time to go to the gym as well as go shopping for something decent to wear, but nothing over the top. He shouldn’t think that you’re desperate.

You’re counting the days until Friday and work out twice as hard at the gym but fuck this muffin top doesn’t seem to be shrinking fast. “Ok don’t panic, you tell yourself,” there’s always shapewear.” Your body’s best friend. Blondie messages you almost every day and you guys chat about your work days. Your likes and dislikes. Make funny dry humour jokes and flirt over WhatsApp. Yes you gave him your number because his eyes were so beautiful. He tells you that he is looking forward to meeting you.

The week takes extra long and work sucks because your fucking boss moans about everything and you want to punch her in the face. Just so you know, you hate your job and you are not fond of your boss.

The only thing that keeps you sane through the week is your date with Mr. handsome.

Friday finally arrives, yippee. You’re trying to concentrate at work but every time your phone flashes, you think it’s blue eyes. You had already done some prep work on Thursday evening, and we as women know exactly what type of preparation it takes for date nights. Shaving where you didn’t shave, shaping of eyebrows and giving your hair some extra volume with hair extensions. Not all of us are born with luscious locks that go down our lower back as we see in the fucking magazines we follow like idiots. Unrealistic shit, I know.

Finally, it’s time to go home and you rush to the shops as you forget to get mascara and fake eyelashes. Yes a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s got to do in this day and age with men’s unrealistic image of what a woman should look like. Eyes rolling…..

Okay so Mr. Delivery delivers supper for the kids, yes, I’m a single mother with two teenagers which means it’s extra hard going out on a date. The kids ask all sorts of questions.” Where are you going?” “Who are you going with?” “What time will you be home?”……blah blah blah, all that shit you know.

Finally you have alone time to start getting ready for your date. You and your date had arranged to meet at 20h00 and he’s picking you up at your house because he’s a gentleman. His words not mine.

You start to freak out as it's 19h30 and you are only halfway dressed and one of your high heels has magically disappeared. Fuck it, what now.

Calm down, you have other shoes or just ask one of your kids to look for it. Your son comes to your rescue by saying he found the shoe under the bed where you threw it after your last disastrous date.

OK back to getting dressed. You look great if you must say so yourself after struggling with the fake eyelashes.

It's 20h00 and your date messaged to say that he’s running a bit late. No need to worry, you can check your makeup, hair and do some final touch ups. The butterflies are back, but it's all excitement and nervousness mixed into one.

He arrived at 20h15 and he looked dashing. Even better than his Tinder pictures. Yes you met on Tinder, no need to be ashamed. Online dating is the new way of dating; you don’t pick guys up in bars anymore unless you’re drunk and desperate. Tonight you are neither.

He gets out of his car and you greet and hug each other. He opens the car door for you and you politely thank him. He tells you that you look beautiful and you blush a bit and say that he looks great too. You both laugh and off you go the place you both had decided on.

While driving you two make small talk about the week, work and that you finally agreed to meet after talking online for a while. The place you have chosen is a little bar which offers an array of drinks and snacks if you’re feeling peckish as well.

He finds a table and plays the perfect gentleman again and pulls out your chair for you. James, the name of Mr. Handsome asked you if you would like anything to drink. You settle for a bottle of red wine and he pours you a glass and you both cheers to the benefits of online dating. Btw, you don’t really drink more than one glass of wine, as it tends to go to your head.

You talk about everything from sports, to his love for squash but he doesn’t play anymore as he broke one of his fingers. You tease him about cricket, and he frowns at your choices of rugby teams.

The night is a great success as you end up talking on the terrace of the bar till past midnight.

James drops you off at home and you say good night. As you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, he grabs you and kisses the living day-lights out of you. You submit to the kiss and let him push you against his car and enjoy the moment, wrapping your arms around his neck. All the red wine doesn’t help your cause for resisting, but he’s a great kisser. The kiss ends with the two of you giggling like teenagers.

You say good night and he drives off. You take out your phone thanking him for a great evening, and you drift off to sleep when in bed with a smug smile.

It’s Saturday morning and you wake up with a smile on your face when your mind drifts back to your eventful evening with James. You check your phone to see if there’s a message from.

Strange no reply to your message after you thanked him. Well he’s probably busy or still sleeping

You carry on with your day as Saturday’s are normally a day of shopping and running errands because being a single mom is a never ending fucking job. You try not to check your phone to see if James messaged you, but it’s hard to concentrate. You’re not sure if you should buy milk or if there’s still milk in the fridge. Also your one child doesn’t want to eat yoghurt with fruit in. Wait until they’re all grown up and have to buy their own groceries.

It’s 5pm and James still hasn’t messaged you or said anything about the date. You find it a bit strange, and you go over your date wondering whether you said or did anything wrong. Yes. We as women, always blame ourselves if the guy doesn’t call back or there’s no second date. We never blame these fucking assholes that call themselves men.

It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t heard a word from James. The whole texting, WhatsApp and Facebook messages have dried up. You beat yourself up about what went wrong. You go over every detail of your date, what was said, his body language and even the passionate kiss that you both shared. You don’t know what went wrong, did your hair not smell nice or did you have bad breath?

You say to yourself, “Fuck this.” You decide to message him after promising yourself you wouldn’t. Here goes. “Hey James , how are you?” He reads your message but does not reply. You make excuses for him. He’s probably busy at work and will message you when he gets a chance or he gets home.

It’s 10pm when your phone flashes and you see a message from James. His messages are short and cold. You asked him, how things were going at work and what he’d been up too. Then to your dismay, he tells you that he met someone for coffee and things went well so that they went for a second date and they have now decided to start dating. He wishes you all the best and he’s sorry.

Are you fucking kidding me? To be continued…


  • Nothing much to tell. I'm just a single mom that was interested in writing and was fed up with online dating sites and the guys that appear to be nice.

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