Give Picasso a Chance...

Surely it couldn't be time for yet another bank holiday weekend..! It felt like only moments since the last one and I'm still struggling to remember how I spent that, so it must have been good (a-hem).

This weekend brought with it the opportunity to travel, namely to Liverpool to see the new Picasso exhibition at the Tate. It's on until the end of August and well worth a visit. There was me, expecting a couple of large, colourful, obvious Picasso's and hundreds of pencil sketches/newspaper articles, but in fact was pleasantly surprised to find a wealth of the master's fine works, curated from all corners of the world.

Although you don't need a passport to get there, I was pleased to note that, like India, the UK is diverse enough for me to feel like I was abroad when in fact I'd only spent an hour getting to our destination. Being unfamiliar with the city, Rock Star Friend and I positively buzzed off checking out maps, asking friendly locals for directions and riding the tube, which I never even knew existed there.

Once we'd been suitably wowed and inspired by the exhibition itself, and particularly by the final room containing paintings produced during the last decade of Picasso's life, we had properly earned a pint (or several), so off we went in search of the real Liverpool. We had an Indian and proceeded to the nearest proper pub, which, as abroad, happened to be an Irish bar. It was so accomodating we didn't get any further and spent the rest of the night with a selection of colourful local characters including a jolly gangster who performed close-up magic to us at the bar and a guy called Keith who used to run a record label and wouldn't at first believe Rock Star Friend had once refused Kurt Cobain a lift across the Nevada desert for health & safety reasons.

The whole day was a welcome break from the gruelling dating schedule I have been subjecting myself to since signing up to a dating website. Oh, yes, it didn't take the universe all that long to begin delivering my first order, that of securing a selection of quality lovers. It is of course the selecting of them that may take quite some time. And of course, fulfilling the condition of 'quality'. But so far my experience of etheral fishing for men has certainly been both entertaining and interesting from an anthropological point of view.

Of course there are some people out there who insist on aiming for dates well out of their league, and although I'm flattered by their efforts, I have found it appropriate to be perfectly honest in my responses. Surely it is my duty to do them a favour by letting them know, as kindly as possible, where it is they are going wrong.

Readers, if any of you out there struggle with letting prospective dates down gently, here is a stunning example you can use as a template if required:

Thanks for e-mailing, but... (this goes in the title bar)

...if your profile is anything to go by, I'm afraid I would be far too exciting for you. Also, it is off-putting to ladies that you are wearing sunglasses in your main photo. And what is the relevance of the picture with the weedy, leafless tree against a bleak landscape? I am no psychologist, but this pic combined with the About Me section where you begin by describing yourself as 'nothing special' speaks volumes to a prospective female. I am sure you are indeed a 'very genuine man', but I would suggest you amend your self-image to get more hits. It's a rough game for the best of us but I reckon once you're happy with yourself you will deffo meet the right chick (best friend and lover all in one??? It's what we alll want!) especially with your DIY skills. I am a modern woman with my own tolkit, but I always prefer a fit bloke coming round to sort my plumbing out x

Little did I realise the guy in question is an oil-rig worker and seems to have lost his sense of humour as a result, but still, I'm sure it must have nicer for him to have received my response than none at all.

I must admit the emotional strain of meeting virtual strangers with a view to performing acts of physical pleasure has been both exciting and strenuous, especially when I found myself vetting two different guys in 12 hours. But the upside is securing oneself a place in the Zone. After months of sensual wilderness, as a result of on-line flirting whilst I am, for example, cooking the dinner, I find myself floating through reality (or my approximation of it) exuding irresistable pheromones to members of the opposite sex.

I now have men jostling to sit next to me on the train. I have lifeguards at the swimming baths pleading to serve me avacado and sardine sandwiches on my next trip to the seaside. I even have gorgeous men introducing themselves to me in the gym with flirtatious handshakes. Surely it can only be a matter of time before a concrete lover manifests himself from such a melee of competing interests!