Online Dating

After a less than exciting day, I decided I needed a break from theatre (difficult in my line of work, I know.) So I went to meet Polly at... the Theatre Royal.

Okay, so it's hardly getting away from theatre, but at least it was a show I wasn't in. There's something quite lovely about being backstage and just knowing that you won't be called down to the stage for anything. At least, I hoped not. Great as my rendition of Food, Glorious Food would be, I might stick out somewhat. To say the least.

Polly and Dolly were apparently too busy even to come down and meet me at the stage door. They had left a note for me summoning me to their dressing room, so I climbed the hundred sterile stairs alone, wondering what could be so good they couldn't tear themselves away from it.

"What's going on?" I asked, pulling off my coat. They were huddled over a laptop in the corner of the room.
"Polly's joining a dating website," said Dolly excitedly, barely looking up.
"Actually, we might need some help," said Polly. "I've done the bit about me. I'm struggling on the section where I have to say what type of man I'm looking for."

"Certainly none of the cockmonkeys you've been after lately," I said, leaning over their shoulders to get a better look. "Pol, if you don't know what type of man you're after, there's not a lot we can do."

"Maybe I should say I want someone with a good sense of humour, honest, kind..."
" - doesn't screw around with nineteen-year-old chorus girls behind your back," added Dolly.

She had a point. It's so incredibly hard to meet anyone in this business. Polly is what you would easily describe as a "catch". Petite, auburn, fun-loving (sounds like I'm writing her dating biog now) - she's hot. And lately, all she seems to be attracting are tech-y sleezeball types with hidden agendas or fucked-up dancer boys with sexuality issues.

In the real world, she wouldn't even give them a second look. But the odds are stacked highly against women in showbiz. If you take all the men involved and divide them up you automatically lose:

About forty percent to homosexuality (that's a rough guess).

Then come the "players" - I'm underestimating, but it must be at least another thirty percent. Don't forget how many gorgeous women there are floating around. You can't blame the poor lads.

Another fifteen percent are insecure, needy, whingey actor-types. No good. Who wants a man who spends longer getting ready than you do?

Of the remaining candidates, ten percent are probably married or have girlfriends.

That leaves five percent. It's not looking good for us, ladies.

Five percent of the men Polly meets are even close to possible dating material. And then, she's actually got to fancy them. The stupid thing is, in the real world, she'd have them falling at her feet. The girl is gorgeous.

It annoys me, actually - that due to massively reduced competition, blokes who wouldn't ordinarily get a look in suddenly consider themselves Adonises. The good ones really are few and far between. It took me long enough to meet the Wanderer, and even then it wasn't free of complications or heartache (long story - another time, chickens).

It surprised me that Polly should want to try internet dating. But when I thought about it, I realised I knew lots of women in showbusiness who lately had done the same thing, and successfully. Working in the theatre is antisocial. Everything happens at the wrong end of the day. By the time we get out for a drink after a show, most people have gone home. We just don't meet anyone.

Polly should be with someone who adores her every move, hangs off her every word, takes tender care of her and makes her laugh. Not someone who doesn't call, leaves her feeling insecure and can't really be bothered. Isn't that what every woman deserves?

If online is the way to find a partner, then I'm all for it.