My Dating App Method May Be Unorthodox, but Good Lord Does It Work

It might have been the tiny middle-aged man I matched with on Hinge who tried to lure me into his very short arms by telling me a well-rehearsed, technically touching story about the cancer charity he set up for his dead wife. Or it may have been the (indefinitely benched) Premier League player who picked me up in a leased Maserati which no part of my skin was allowed to touch. Or perhaps it was the guy who brought his laminated CV to a Brixton cocktail bar and tapped his finger on the Oxford University entry for an hour (I had, prematurely, ordered chicken wings I felt unable to abandon). Quite possibly, it was all of them and others combined. But in any case, after years of calamitous dates with random strangers that sounded fun enough but face to face made me want to remove my insides and wash them, I snapped and vowed to never search the web for love again.