Wind down the windows in your Micra, bung some Led Zeppelin on the stereo, and remember to stick your hands in your pockets quickly before the nice lady notices that you’re shaking. Yes! It’s another lonely evening here at Online Dating is Shite.
Busy as I have been writing random nonsense and sending pictures of my plastic sword to ladies who like Vikings, I thought I should get back to you. My favourite people.
Hubris. Hubris is on my mind.
I once mispronounced that word in a school debate semi-final. I pulled it out in my summing-up, thinking I was Hitchens; postulating that the opposition was guilty of it. But I’d only ever seen it on the printed page (it was not the type of word we used in the Maturin household), and I thought it was possibly French, so I pronounced it ‘hoobree’.
You can imagine how the debate went. It was one of those unique moments. In which you learn exactly how a word is pronounced; and, in a very personal sense, precisely what it means. All in the same revelatory instant.
So. Hubris. Hubris and Guardian Soulmates.
Take this, for instance:
“Don’t worry. All my emotional baggage is sorted and neatly put away …”
Aha ha ha ha! Really? Brilliant! Cue the half empty bottle of Vodka, smeared eyeliner, and two community police officers at the door.
I say jolly good to baggage. I’m all for a bit of baggage. I’m a gentleman, and will gladly carry it for a while. I’ll even rummage through it, and see if there’s anything I can take out to make it lighter. In fact I want a bit of baggage. With baggage comes wisdom. Actually that’s quite good. Could somebody please quote me?
Or what about this:
“I am looking for someone who has attained financial security through entrepreneurship, but is not driven by money or status.”
I’m not even going to bother with that one. It would be like going to a coconut shy with a laser-sighted rifle. The same goes for this:
“Someone well-established in her career, but willing to try anything.”
“I am looking for a normal, kind and sincere woman who is happy taking risks.”
Oh okay, I realise they don’t all technically qualify as hubristic, but I can’t resist sharing.
I mean, I still believe that my very special person exists. And I have high hopes for my next date. But I do keep it kind of real. Otherwise I’d be tailoring my profile to Miss Ives out of Penny Dreadful. It would read:
“You are poised, mysterious, and utterly composed. You are a seductive and formidable beauty, full of secrets and danger. You have supernatural gifts that will threaten my safety and even my sanity. And you go like the clappers.”
It’s not going to happen is it?
It’d be great if it did. She could bring Lucifer round, because I think he and I would get on quite well. I mean we’re both generally misunderstood. And probably both like Led Zeppelin. Maybe he plays bass, and we could try ‘Black Country Woman‘. Anyway. I digress.
Hoobree. Let hoobree be your watchword.
I’m off round Miss Ives’.
ps – I’m disproportionately excited about the new season of Penny Dreadful. I think I’m going to put on my black velvet coat and ponce about in old London pubs. Like I did after reading Johnathan Strange and Mr Norrell.