It seems oh so very long ago, and now it’s something you only read about in the classics. A man would set his sights on a woman and it was pretty much assumed that they would marry and have kids, the whole caboodle.

Far more recently, romance entered the equation. A man would show up at his date’s door with a bunch of flowers, a box of chocolates, who knows what. He would take her out for dinner, they would make polite, possibly awkward small talk, the night would end with maybe the gent walking his bird (“lady friend”) to the front door and offer a polite handshake or a goodnight kiss. Following the date there would either be a massive nothing or the flowers, the occasional phone call, more dates, yadda yadda, blah blah.

This was before the digital age of technology, which has made it so much easier to find true lurve.

Remember when internet first became a thing, there was that person you’d talk to in the chat rooms, with whom you would fall madly and mentally for? That person who would probably be after the same thing you were? There are probably thousands of ’90s email-based success stories.

The internet became as necessary as Southend to a Racer Boy, and, with all those people meeting others in chat rooms, along came dodginess and scandals before suddenly up came the dating websites.

“Let’s charge people to either find love or die trying!” they all thought to themselves, and those of us who find the only time for a social life is when we’re asleep fall for it. With the new-found methods of instant rejection came a new way for men to date. Not only a new way to date*, but a new method of chat-up, courting, wooing the woman into submission: “selfies”. Not just any selfie, mind…

*The male version of a lasting relationship: a one-night stand.
I have to wonder how much money over the months most of these men spend in dating site memberships to get laid every now and then. Surely if they’d just saved their money they could have paid for a high-end pro? Come to that, what is it within the male psyche that makes them think that we female folk will want them more because they sent us a picture of their phallus?

Here’s a tip, guys: The majority of us heterosexual women are aware that naked women will always be 1,000 times more attractive than a naked man. The evidence is right between your legs. Can you honestly whip that out and tell us that it’s a gorgeous extension of the anatomy? No. It’s a set of wrinkly sandbags which form the root of what I can only describe as a strange-looking mushroom. Fungus, if you will. We don’t want to date you even more just because you sent us a picture of your member. It’s hardly a pull at all, especially if we’re after something a little special.

Sending these cock-shots serve only to let us know that, after the first date in which we either fall for your spiel and shag you or see it as possible spiel and decide to hold off just to find out where it’s going, you won’t text, you won’t call, nothing. That is, of course, unless we did fall for it. And then we might hear from you again: the next time you want to get your rocks off and think to yourselves: “I know who fell for it before!”

So there these men are, paying however much per month for an endless supply of muff, and there’s us women paying the same money for another way to meet the scumbags of the world.

I’m actually shocked to find so many dingbats on the board.

My experience shows so far that, out of approximately seven men I have chatted to (one of them in the last week), six of them are schweinhunds. I may chat up another three to gain a better perspective, however personal experience has shown that nearly six out of seven men on Match.com want a shag.

It remains to be seen about the one I’m sort of seeing right now, who has not thrown a tantrum over a nail file, had a hissy fit over an inability for me to immediately stop what I’m doing so I can give him 20 seconds of pleasure, or has taken offence because I would not pop his cork that day.

At this point, I have acquired approximately six men who think I can be wooed into a first date by being sent pictures of their penises.

I contemplated collecting these, as mentioned on Twitter, so that I’m able to create the Guess Who? Modern Dating version.

Update: I have deleted all cock-shots as nobody needs that version of the game.

This past week, however, I have discovered Social Experiment No. 7 seems a little different. In fact, I have long since lost the ability to react towards a man who, yes, would have liked to have sex on the first date, but had a great deal of respect for my hesitance and refusal and has requested to see me again. He has officially left me in shock. I know he wants it, but he’s not putting on the pressure.

Surely that’s not normal in this day and age? Or has my mind been warped by the Jimmy Scumbags floating around the Netisphere?

This man picked me up, took me to dinner, talked to me about normal things like work, and seemed to actually attempt to get to know me (although I think that backfired and I might actually know him better).

I would go into further detail about this chap who, I have to say, I find rather endearing, but not only did we see each other again, we spent the day doing normal things. Again evading answering questions he had, I think he seems a bit confused about my ridiculously low maintenance.

Update: This guy appears to be one of those who has too much money to burn and has been released to the tip on the grounds that he’s mentally a little bit like a woman.