The Ones That Got Away…

Match Hero. defines these as such:

The Match Badge tells you in a blink of an eye which Match members are the most genuine and reliable in their messages to other members. These are true Match Heroes, ready to find someone special that will hopefully send you charming messages!

Note the use of the word ‘hopefully’ in that last sentence…

Before I regale you with a couple of screenshots of some simply ‘charming’ messages, here is a picture of neck tattoo man. I was going to put a black strip over his eyes to protect his identity… However, a) I don’t know how to, b) his name’s not on there anyway, so good luck trying to track him down (I already tried searching all my favourite Tattoo Fails websites), and c) he does have very nice eyes indeed.

I would like you to take a good hard look at the below (use your zoom function if necessary) and tell me what his tattoo says… Does it say ‘tattoo’, or does it say ‘butterfly’?

I told you so.

Still got nice eyes, though.

I’ve been sent a lot of messages on Match, very few of which could be described as charming. I strongly suspect that many men just send the same message to every female profile they can find, under the misguided belief that this approach will reap more fruit.

Here are two of my favourite ‘cut-and-paste’ introductions (I haven’t included the one where the guy felt the need to explain how he had ‘few limits in the area involving a woman’s arse’). This one came from a charming gentleman whose Match Moniker is Tigertime:

Needless to say, I failed to respond to the question, his profile did not strike a chord, and I certainly didn’t get in touch with the intention of getting to know him better.
Aaaaaand Blocked!

The second one was marginally less odd…


Marginally less odd until you get to the line “I hope these questions are not too tricky…!”


I was tempted to respond with some pointless yet tricky questions of my own: Andrex or Velvet Quilted? Monopoly or the Game of Life? Flip-flops or wellies? Curtains or blinds? Salt or pepper? London or Europe?

This, my friend, is what we are faced with.

I did start messaging one guy; we’ll call him Alex*.  Alex seemed relatively normal** and I was contemplating meeting up with him.  Okay, he was a bit obsessed with living off the grid and being self-sufficient and all that malarkey (although he did like to jet off skiing several times a year, which in my books sort of negates the whole ‘I won’t leave a carbon-footprint’ wankery).  Anyway, his photos were okay-ish (one where he had an ill-placed landscape painting on the wall behind him so he sort of looked like he had horns, and another close up which I suspect may have been taken in a gym – although thankfully he wasn’t wearing a vest…) No Xmas jumpers, no bathroom mirror shots, no topless-lying-in-bed poses, no giant fish.

So far, so good.

We messaged over a few days and he didn’t say anything thay screamed weirdo at me, and then he suggested meeting up.  At this point, I reckoned I should probably take a closer look at his profile before committing…


I’m not sure if he had updated it since my first perusal, or whether I had somehow glossed over the bits that screamed block, block now!

His intro was really long. It began with a list of the ‘Please do not contact me if any of the following apply’ variety.  The first 9 points had clearly been lifted from some sort of article on online dating:

  • You have no photo.
  •  Your photos are all blurry/distant
  • Your photos are several years out of date.

Etc. You get the picture.

But then we reach point number 10…  He appeared to have veered a little off the copy/paste course with this one…

  • You are generally one sandwich short of a picnic, recovering alcoholic or loon of any kind (Especially horsy girls – one I met turned out to be a total mental write-off – compulsive liar, delusional, split personality, plus more, very sad case – so if you have anything to do with horses, please ensure you are sane as I am particularly cautious :-))


And if that hadn’t been enough to put me off (not that I’m remotely into horses or anything, but the guy was clearly a little odd…) the following line definitely sealed the deal:

I like all things outdoors, riding, walking the dogs (5 rotties and a staff all of which I’ve rescued)…

And I’ll stop right there.

FIVE rescue rottweilers and a rescue staffie?!  I’m not a dog lover*** but I firmly believe that even the most enthusiastic among you would be just a little apprehensive if faced with that pack…

Six Dangerous Potentially Dangerous. Rescue. Dogs.

A veritable PACK of potentially dangerous rescue dogs. 6 of them in total.

My heart rate is increasing just thinking about it.

So I sent him a nice friendly message explaining that having had a closer look at his profile, I didn’t really think we were compatible as he was clearly a bit of a dog lover, and I was very much not, and that I wished him all the best in his search.

That should have been the end of it, right?

But oh no, not for Match Hero Alex…

Match Hero Alex felt the need to explain to me that I, in turn, needed to overcome my ‘unnecessary phobia’ (erm, being apprehensive of your pack of dangerous dogs is called self preservation in my books, mate…), went on to tell me how one of his martial arts instructors said that if you focus on your fears you’ll develop – sound advice that apparently served him well (erm okay…  and loving the casual way you’ve dropped in the fact that you have plural martial arts instructors, by the way; how manly), and then went on to give me this great wee nugget of advice…

“It’s dangerous to be in that position (being scared of packs of potentially dangerous rescue dogs) as your (sic) going to give off the signals of fear to any dog and therefore more likely than anyone else to get into trouble. Oh well, best of luck!”

Before I could block him, he took it upon himself to start sending me loads of links to people who could ‘cure’ me.

What a charmer.

I told my mate about him.  His response ‘I reckon he lives with his parents, nobody has that many dogs and goes skiing that often.’

Male logic.

Me, I reckon he lives alone.  I reckon he lives alone in the middle of nowhere with all his horses and alpacas (according to his profile…) and his pack of scary rescue dogs. I reckon he is the kind of guy who would have thought he could ‘cure’ me by locking me in a barn with his pack of rabid beasts. Stuff of my actual nightmares.

Blocked! (and bullet successfully dodged, methinks).

I’m going to leave you now with a picture of the first guy who contacted me on Match (please, dear readers, bear in mind that I have set my absolutes maximum age limit at 46…) I’ve had a fiddle and managed to (after a fashion) fix the whole strip across the eyes thing – just in case anyone recognises their (ahem) 45 year old grandad and gets all cross with me.  I just think you should get an idea of what Amy and I are subjecting ourselves to for the purposes of your entertainment.


*His real name

**Normality really is relative on…

*** You can read about my feelings towards dogs here:


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