March 26, 2012 § 128 Comments
Before Homeland last night (completely and utterly gripping incidentally), I saw a trailer for a documentary with a seemingly rather dodgy premise, though I cannot make such pronouncements, of course, before seeing it in full. It is to be aired on Channel 4 on 3 April and is called The Undatables. The undatables turn out to be people with major disfigurements and unjust conditions such as Tourette’s Syndrome. The programme charts them looking for love.
I do not have any glaring disfigurements and nor do I have Tourette’s (even if I do swear a lot, I am thankfully in control of when I do so, at least most of the time). But I am increasingly feeling like an Undatable myself and rather wonder that the researchers didn’t miss a trick when they failed to come knocking on my door.
I reckon I have had about fifteen twinkles in the past few years (I wrote a list of several in this blog some weeks or months ago), and not one of them has materialised into a happy romance (even an unhappy one). A friend asked me if I might be batting above my station or going for the “wrong” types. But, no, these twinkles have been as varied as it is possible for one person in limited circumstances to come across. There has been an admirable range of ages (by almost thirty years) and occupations and character and looks. Right across the spectrum. But outcome invariably the same. Conclusion: something wrong with me. Must be. No other explanation, seeing as I am the only common factor in all this. The generous-minded might put it down to luck – bad luck – and I did too for a while. But now I am not so sure. I must have a glaring disfigurement men don’t see till they meet me a second time and then it sends them packing. I cannot see it but it is obvious to all the world and my friends aren’t telling me.
Unsettling thought for the day. Undatable because of a kind of deformity like a monster in Dr Who – physical or metaphorical or both – only initially invisible to everyone else, and permanently so to me.