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Out there in the wide world of internet dating, modesty is no asset

I said last week that I was crap at computers. Actually, I am not totally crap at computers. You can't be, these days, can you? So why lie? Not wanting to show off, I reckon. This is the first thing that is going to balls up my internet dating scheme. I've enough trouble cobbling together a CV without blushing, how am I meant to present myself, in all my virtual glory, to those boy toys I'm after?

Finding a site to join is simple enough: just type 'internet dating' into Google and you're away. You can find anything from 'just friends' (whatever!) to bootycall.com, which is mostly in America, but claims to have hot bods in Dublin waiting for your call.

Whether it be sporty types that are looking to sweat together, or the more literary sort who read English liberal newspapers, you're bound to find something sympathetic, somewhere you'll fit in and somewhere that will offer the exact type of fella you're gagging for.

But first, you've got to choose a screen name and write about yourself. Can there be anything more po-faced than having to talk about what makes you unique? I start to write, and feel a shiver of embarrassment crawling up my back. It's not that I'm a bad person, but it's a terrible, terrible thing to have to put into words the things that you think are grand about yourself.

I tried to get some inspiration from the profiles of others, and that nearly sent me running from the room. Most users have presented the world with a persona translated through textese -- which is not impressive. Not if you're a grown-up, anyway.

I hope there are some grown-ups out there. Surely I can't be the only one who's serious about finding someone on the internet. Half the lads claim they're 'sick of the pub scene, and of shouting in nightclubs'. Me, too! That's got to be a good enough place to start.

I don't really do much with my time, but reckon that 'cinema' sounds good, that 'gigs' would be great if I had a feckin' boyfriend, and I decide to pretend that I go to museums and shite, because I am smart, and smart people go to museums, but I'm not going to write down that I'm smart or they'll think I'm boasting.

I often manage to come across as too much of a clever clogs, inviting blank looks from whoever I was just talking to. So perhaps this may be my medium after all? I can be as pithy as I can be, and maybe, just maybe, in the wider world of the web, I'll find my partner in pith, and go off, quipping into the sunset . . .

If I'm going to do this, then I'm aiming high! I can always edit it later.

As it transpires, this was the easy part. Now I've got to choose a photo . . .