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Within days, I am flooded with letters. Some are just lazy, two-line
communications. Some are decidedly weird, some sad, some revolting.
Some are lengthy epistles outlining personal histories and detailing
exactly what couples, single men and single women want to do to me
or with me. A few are chatty, articulate, amusing and plainly written
to me and in response to my profile. I learn to distinguish the married
from the single, the genuinely bisexual women from the fakes etc.
I respond, and have my first meetings with single men, single women
and couples from the site at their homes or at local bars.
There is occasional high comedy here. Whether these people are setting
out to deceive or simply deceive themselves, some of them bear little
resemblance to their portrayals of themselves.
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Amongst the wilfully deceptive is a man who has pretended
to be at least fifteen years younger than in fact he is, receives
an ‘unexpected’ call
whilst we are having a drink, pretends that he must merely drive ‘just
down the road’ – which turns out to be over an hour away – and
shows me into a grubby little house in which there is a fat woman
and a fat shaggy dog and a man who looks just like my grandfather
who, dressed in baggy cords and frayed carpet-slippers, looks at
his watch, announces, ‘Well, you’ve got a fair way to
go. We’d better get down to it.’ At which point I flee.
Amongst the unwittingly (I think) deceptive – is a sweet
couple of teachers, she pretty and in her early thirties but so shy
that she says not a word from the moment that I arrive at their home,
proves voracious in bed but can only, I discover, refer to anything
sexual in the most infantile of euphemisms – “I really
like her…” “Her?” “You know… Your… front
bottom…” etc.
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