Deep-Fried Mars Bar Man
February 23, 2012 § 26 Comments
If I might stick my neck out and say the unsayable. I have a friend who is startlingly, coruscatingly ugly.
He is tall and exceedingly unhealthy looking, a man who looks as though he was weaned for all the world on Cornish pasties and deep -fried Mars Bars; face like a bean bag. I met him when were on a work trip together some years ago and his physical appearance was notable. But he was so funny he made me laugh till tears tore down my cheeks. Clever and warm and irreverent and witty and the best possible company. I was married at the time (as was – still is – he), but I do remember thinking had timing and circumstances been different, I could very easily have fallen for him, spectacularly. He was – is – astonishingly attractive. But if you saw a photograph of him, you would think, Good God, not for a million quid! You might be lucky enough to pick up on the twinkle in his eyes, but you wouldn’t begin to get it. Yet, in truth, I could envisage spending the rest of my life with him (were he not married, obv), I adore this friend and find him very fanciable, but I am only being honest here when I say that if his photograph was on a dating site “gallery” of gargoyles, he would stand out amongst them as the gargoyle to end all gargoyles, and I would click him away in a millisecond.
I own the fault is in me, my superficial regard to looks, though it is not so superficial really, because of course I only have to meet someone for a few seconds to remember again that looks can mean Jack Shit in the overview of a person. This friend’s character is such that his looks are irrelevant. No, more than that, his character renders his looks actively appealing, sexy, and I don’t think I am the first woman to feel that about him, shall we say.
I am looking at online dating sites every day so no one can accuse me of giving up, but I am worried that I am missing out on winners because of picture prejudice before I have even looked at their profiles. And yet I can’t help it. Human nature and all that. Natural selection. Warthog in Walthamstow: Next! There are thousands of profiles on these sites. I cannot study them all.
I don’t know what I am saying, really. I have learnt that online dating is a modern force for good and every person I know has a happily ever after story. I hear them every day. I know there is something in this lark and I am persisting, honest. But it is of course a lottery that initially, at any rate, cannot do the chemistry. I do love that thing of meeting or bumping into someone somewhere and feeling a surprise connection, as I did with the brilliant Deep-Fried Mars Bar Man who was an instant hit with me (and, I hope, me with him), and who became a friend practically on sight, and would surely have become a lover, had timing and circumstances been any different.
Online dating? It’s not so good at that. But I guess that’s not its thing. Its thing is giving you a greater chance of putting yourself in the way of people with whom you might, one in a hundred, one in a thousand, find that kind of connection.
I press on. And we shall just have to see.