Punter 46

A gentleman and a scholar. Yes, I accepted the request quickly and optimistically. An attractive profile pic with the hint of an Astin Martin in the background. I was in in in. Mr Tasmanian architect had a scholarly writing style that was smattered with high brow bohemian music and literary references. Emails, chats, texts, followed quickly by phone calls and before I knew it, I was Tasmanian bound. I nervously drank all I could in the small 50 minute flight window I had. With a skip (or was that a stumble?) in my step, I bounced off the tarmac into the ams of Mr Tasmania, who had driven two hours from his home town. Without allowing him to detect my complete an utter gut wrenching disappointment (and remembering I had vowed to my now understandably cynical work colleagues who had heard the "no really, this IS the one guys!" phrase, week in and week out, for 12 long months), I soldered on. We drove awkwardly for 30 long hard minutes, and to my horror, Mr Tasmania was checking in ... to the same hotel!

Punter 47

A quick witted chap with a close up photo that appealed. After a late night evening of fast witted internet chat, followed by an entertaining phone call, he arrived keenly at my door step. Upon opening the front door, I was alarmed at the extent in which the camera had lied. He proceeded to eye roll his way down my hallway as he appeared alarmed at all forms of artwork and I quickly ushered him to a seat, as far away from me as a late night internet date, who had opted to drive for 30 minutes to meet me, can be! I swiftly attempted to preoccupy his hands with my son's toy that needed a man's touch, after I plonked a fish bowls worth of cheap Aldi red in our glasses. He took one slurp and bid me farewell. Byeeeee! 

Punter 48

After 2 weeks of inane chats, I prompted a phone call as punter 48 seemed keen, helped by his attractive out of focus profile photo, I convinced myself of the doubt. I released my number and P48 (aka punter 48) signed off the dating site for the night in order to make the promised phone call.  I refilled my glass in anticipation of tackling another awkward IDPC (internet dating phone call). He texted, claiming to be too weary to talk on the phone. Alarmed at his recoil, I quickly logged back onto his date site and heavy handedly hit the "delete punter" button. I immediately logged onto backup dating site B, in order to salvage another wilting internet dater who could take me away from this cyber dating circus. Suddenly, Punter 48 made the phone call! I launched into my explanation of deleting him, well, he did ask! He managed to say "good"... I somehow doubt it was to be followed by "night", as he heavy handedly pressed the delete button on the phone. Geez, another one bites the dust!