Single Forties

This weeks new members…. Excuse me? Now what have I gone and done?

A moment of madness, soon forgotten. That’s what it was. Honest. Ok, so I lie. Yet again. Waiting online for a slow fingers to type out a message on the other side of a chat window is the devils workshop… there I was, there it was, and my fingers absently operate independent of my mind, clicking and typing their way through a free registration. My painfully slow conversation resumes and I move on…..

Alas, my email has taken it upon itself to stoically inform me that I am now part of the Single Forties club. Of all the dating sites in the world, why on earth did I register for one so abysmally named? Single Forties. Why on earth did it seem like a good idea at the time? I must get a grip on what catches my fancy, given just how many inflictions of ‘seemed like a good idea at the time’ I can lay claim to.

Look before you leap. A stitch in time. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. All good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue. Strewth (how interesting - spell check disapproves)! We’re all abundantly aware of my paucity of virtues, but I do have to admit, this whole live in the moment philosophy does get one into a host of cringingly embarrassing/painful/what the fuck/I don’t fucking believe it/falana falana situations. Like being on the receiving end of dismally entitled Single Forties emails.

Just looking at the title makes me feel forlorn and leftover. An indictment on a chosen lifestyle. Hmmmm. What do you know. A not inconsiderable sprinkling of unattached men in my neck of the woods. Who knows, soon I might wonder if there is a smug Married Forties site that I can plague.