Romance! I want some.
Upon hearing this, the entire world may well barricade its doors, while I gird my loins. But after this long, dark, pointlessly bitter winter, my sap is rising at an exponential rate. Usually, I only act when I see something completely and utterly spectacular, the ultimate best thing ever, a sole Prada piece in a sea of Primark. But I'm changing my methods, inspired by an observable new London phenomenon: the Guardian Soulmates date.
The Soulmates date sees the cosmopolitan coming-together of two people of equal attractiveness, who have jobs and iPhones. It can also signify the coming-together of intense desire and profound delusion. This is what I eavesdropped on at a trendsters' café in Covent Garden, a few weeks ago.
Man: Shall we have dessert?
Woman: Mm. I'm not sure.
Man: I like dessert.
Woman [nodding politely]: Ah.
Man: Do you like dessert?
Woman: ?
Both these people were leaning towards each other with nauseatingly good intentions, looking at each other with bleak hopefulness. For a dramatist, the dialogue was priceless. For the participants, painful. I hope the two of them are now pursuing separate hobbies elsewhere, dessert or no dessert.
Still, I admire them for making the effort. The surface argument against internet dating is that it's, at worst, creepy and dangerous, and at best, naff.
Look, everything in life is potentially dangerous or naff.
Upon hearing this, the entire world may well barricade its doors, while I gird my loins. But after this long, dark, pointlessly bitter winter, my sap is rising at an exponential rate. Usually, I only act when I see something completely and utterly spectacular, the ultimate best thing ever, a sole Prada piece in a sea of Primark. But I'm changing my methods, inspired by an observable new London phenomenon: the Guardian Soulmates date.The Soulmates date sees the cosmopolitan coming-together of two people of equal attractiveness, who have jobs and iPhones. It can also signify the coming-together of intense desire and profound delusion. This is what I eavesdropped on at a trendsters' café in Covent Garden, a few weeks ago.
Man: Shall we have dessert?
Woman: Mm. I'm not sure.
Man: I like dessert.
Woman [nodding politely]: Ah.
Man: Do you like dessert?
Woman: ?
Both these people were leaning towards each other with nauseatingly good intentions, looking at each other with bleak hopefulness. For a dramatist, the dialogue was priceless. For the participants, painful. I hope the two of them are now pursuing separate hobbies elsewhere, dessert or no dessert.
Still, I admire them for making the effort. The surface argument against internet dating is that it's, at worst, creepy and dangerous, and at best, naff.
Look, everything in life is potentially dangerous or naff.
