People always read what they want to read, don’t they? I mean, people look at a statement and unconsciously misinterpret it, don’t they?

I chose my words very carefully, there. I didn’t say I would write about
people who find love online and why it will never ever ever work out, I said I could write about people who look for love online and why it will never ever ever work out. Very different things, don’t you see?

My theory is this (it’s not particularly new, and it could also be classified as common sense, but some people seem to lack even that when it comes to matters of the heart): if you look for love anywhere you are likely to be disappointed. Anywhere. Online, in bars, using dial-a-date, in personal ads, anywhere. The looking is the key here, not the finding. Let’s leave finding aside for a moment. We’ll come back to it in a moment, I promise.

Permit me to construct a particularly clumsy metaphor.

Say you’re a person who is pretty hungry. You ate a while back, and it was pretty good, and just like a Chinese takeaway, it’s put you in the mood for more. You want more. You’re hungry and, dammit, you want to eat again. So you set out looking for food. You’re not fussy - any food will do at this stage, because you’ve pre-defined your need - hunger - without qualifying it. And that’s ok.

So off you go, in search of food. You have a burger. Some chips. Maybe a pot noodle. You wolf down a chocolate bar, which you enjoyed a lot at the time, but it wasn’t quite what you were looking for.

In fact, come to think of it, nothing you’ve eaten has been quite right, quite what you were after. But hang on, it’s fitted the bill exactly - you wanted food, and now you’re disappointed that you haven’t ended up with the perfect meal. What do you want? Blood? Euw, no, best not.

OK, it’s a clumsy metaphor (I never said it was good) but it vaguely works. My point is this: if you are looking for love anywhere, you’re looking for an unattainable ideal. You’re looking for Mr or Mrs Right, you’re looking for a person with whom to sail off into the sunset. How can anyone live up to that? How can you ever find that? If you’re hungry and hankering after steak, and I give you a cheese butty, how can you be satisfied?

Looking for love. In love with the idea of being in love. Falling in love with the feeling of a relationship, not the person you’re in it with. I’ve seen it often, and I’ve been there, too. We lay ourselves open online in ways that we don’t in bars or nightclubs, and yet when we fail to make it to forever, we question ourselves, not the fact that we were looking for something, not someone. Something difficult. It’s like having a blind spot. We can only find it by not looking for it directly. Don’t you ever get that?

So ok, I said I’d get back to people finding love online - don’t get me wrong, don’t misinterpret me on purpose, don’t think that I’m saying that finding love online is impossible. I have no doubt that it’s possible. I’m saying that sometimes it comes in unlikely forms, wherever you are. You can go on all the dating shows you want, and place personal ads until the cows come home (if you’re a farmer, obviously), and then you end up falling in love with the postman who brings the responses. That’s the way it works, more often than not.

Since someone’s bound to bring my personal relationship into this sooner or later, let’s talk about that.

Here’s the thing - P and I met online - or rather, that is to say, we were both online, and we knew each other were online, and then we met in a rather grim pub in Soho along with a bunch of other bloggers. And then we talked and talked and talked and talked and met more and more and went out and then we fell in love.

But the key here is that neither of us were actually looking for love when it came over and smacked us in the face anyway.

In fact, as my flatmates and friends will undoubtedly tell you, I was quite actively not looking for love at the time we got together. I’d just got hurt by a complete shit, and I was not in the mood to get involved. I’d been single for ages, and then rapidly gone through two crash and burn intense and horrible relationship experiences. Single was good. I liked single. Independence I could do well. Relationships were stifling and uncomfortable and required too much compromise. Fuck that. I vanted to be alone.

And then I met P, and despite everything, despite all my good intentions, despite good sense and reason and everything, we found love. We didn’t find it online, though - we found it on a busy street during a thunderstorm, if I remember rightly. And most of all, we weren’t looking for it, but we found it anyway.

I’m not down on people finding love online, in their local supermarket or at the dogs, wherever, whatever, it’s all good. What I’m down on is people repeatedly setting themselves up for a fall, looking for something, always looking.

For what it’s worth, here’s my advice to those looking for love online, in the chippy or under bushes in the local park:

Stop looking. Looking makes you seem desperate. Be yourself. Be happy about your independence, your singleness. Stop missing the feeling of being in a relationship. Stop reminding yourself how nice it would be to have someone to curl up to. Stop trying and just be.

People find independence, self-assurance and happiness incredibly sexy - I know I do. It’s far sexier than clingyness and desperation, anyway.

Also, on a side-note, I know champagne is supposed to be the ultimate drinkipoo, the thing to hanker for, but you know what? I just don’t like it that much. It gives me a headache. At industry shindigs and weddings, I’d feel terribly unsophisticated and all for getting a headache after two glasses, but I keep asking for it anyway, because I knew I Was Supposed To Like It and that It Was A Good Thing To Want. Eventually, I stopped ordering it. Fuck that. couldn’t be arsed with the headaches. And suddenly I discovered a real appreciation for a nice Pinot Grigio, or a warm Cabernet Sauvignon. Once you stop holding out for the ultimate, for something you think you should want, you’ll find you’re suddenly surrounded with much more tempting beverage options. I personally found ‘beena - and love. And love. And love.

And besides, some people prefer cheese butties to truffles anyway.