Twats and tossers

I blame Lily. Well, honestly. If I had Photoshop, whatever Photoshop may be, I could no doubt apply a digital powder puff. But I don’t. So I’m stuck with a pink and yellow blotchy iPhone version of myself. Which is possibly the actual version of myself. However, Claude says don’t talk nonsense, Liza, you always look fabulous and it’s better than the hippy and the rich bitch, so I am, as of this morning, live, online and ready to date! Though, frankly, I'm not sure that I can live up to Claude’s hyperbolic endorsement. 

Just trawling through the men to see if there’s anyone worth actually dating before I pay my 20 quid to be able to send and receive messages. Gosh. Albert from London looks like a matinee idol! Click to see profile. Oh. Shame about the write-up. ‘Albert is a bit of an intellectual. He likes literature, like, novels, magazines, newspapers.’ Doesn’t bode well. Hmmm. Philip’s not bad. Click. Designer. ‘Loyal, terribly witty, with this rare quality of taking a genuine interest in whoever he’s chatting to instead of talking about himself.’ There, sounds nice. Oh, except he’s ‘ just looking for that elusive lady to share the journey with.’ Yuk. Let’s just see the rest of his pix. Oh there he goes, skiing down a mountain. Forget it. Ah, now Hamish looks quite sexy. Bulging biceps and the ubiquitous motorbike between his legs. Extremely good body for a 45 year old. Only slightly cougarish if I went for him. Click. ‘My friend Hamish doesn't do roughing it so if it's a life under canvas you're looking for then move on.’ Well, that’s to the point. Mustn’t let such details put me off. They’ve obviously just had a bad camping experience. Yes, you see he’s also a ‘great debater and conversationalist,’ and what’s more an architect who’s restored a villa in Tuscany! Right, I’m going to favourite him!

Dan calls. 'Morning.'

'Guess what!' 

'You’ve booked a balloon trip across the Andes?'

'Close. I’ve joined a dating site.’

'Ah. And is there anyone worth dating?'

'Well, Hamish looks rather nice and he’s just restored a villa in Tuscany. But do you think there's any point in going for him, if he’s 45, wanting to meet a woman aged 32 to 42?'

'No, because he’s obviously a total twat. What’s wrong with a woman your own age? You can listen to the same music.'

'That’s what I think! But none of the blokes on the site think that. They all want women ten years younger than them.'

'Well they’re all total twats.'  

'And they all have pictures of themselves skiing. And what's more annoying is I've checked out all the women, and they all ski too! And they pretend they love watching sport!'

‘It’s as though skiing is something people actually want to do. Everyone with a picture of themselves skiing you should send a message to, saying "you tosser".’  

Ha! On a solidarity high, I launch into an anecdote to illustrate just how bad my Alzheimer's has got. Half-way through, I interrupt myself. ‘And, just to illustrate how bad my Alzheimer's has got, I’ve just realised this wasn’t the anecdote I meant to tell you to illustrate just how bad my Alzheimer’s has got. I’ve just remembered the one I meant to tell you. And it really was terrible, because it wasn’t just forgetting what someone said, it was like my brain wasn’t processing information properly. I was having tea with Jemima, and her children are 8 and 6 and their birthdays are very close together, and I said to them in an enthusiastic kind of voice, ‘just think, when you’re older, you can share a 21^st birthday party!’ And Jemima looked at me in this perplexed, mildly aghast sort of way. I’m going to start seeing that look on people’s faces more and more, aren’t I? People are going to start talking about me behind my back…’

‘What do you mean, start?’ laughs Dan.

‘Oh God. What am I going to do about it?’

‘I shouldn’t worry. By the time they get to 21 they’ll have got over it.’