After the Cow Girl debacle, I went straight back online with another dating site. I was working on the same principle as those eager to get behind the wheel again as soon as possible after a serious accident to regain confidence.
I signed on with a dating site designed for people wanting to have sex with as many people as possible and posted a photograph of myself with no clothes on, just my glasses, and smiling confidently and a little suavely at the camera, as though clothed or unclothed it was all the same to Lord Tangent, as I called myself. I also indicated, by ticking boxes beside diagrams of little stick people making love in various positions, the positions I preferred. Three of the ten I hadn’t considered before and one looked well beyond my capacity, but I ticked all of them. I also ticked yes to ten questions about my sexual habits, likes and dislikes, including one asking whether I ‘like it if it hurts a bit’. The wider I cast my net, I reckoned, the greater the harvest. In the space where I was invited to say something about myself, I said I was single and looking for someone who didn’t mind getting muddy.
There was no joining fee for women; chaps had to fork out £15 per month. The moment my membership was active, as they termed it, I carefully inspected the profiles of women who lived within 20 miles of my postcode. About half had posted nude photos of themselves. If they were genuine photographs, not a few could have made a living in the glamour trade. Some included the head and face; many were just torsos.
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