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Sick of competing in pubs with girls, it's time to find a date online, by Anonymous

I don't know that I've ever had an epiphany before.

If I had thought of having one, I reckon I would have expected to have it on a mountain top in Tibet, surrounded by monks and goats. Instead, I had it on South William Street.

It was Saturday night and the place was heaving. Girls were falling out of bars and their dresses, and fellas were either cheekily catching them or standing around in huddles, wishing they'd the nerve to throw themselves in the path of one of the spray-tanned goddesses.

I, myself, am not a spray-tanned goddess. I am medium, and that's the feckin' trouble.

I was out with mates, who have been trying to convince me for the past year to 'get off the shelf'. My long-term relationship of -- ah, crap, I can't believe this -- 10 years, did not end in marriage. Bastard. Or me: bitch?

I doubt it. I'm too medium to be a bitch. No, I wasn't a bitch, or a nag. I didn't do anything that men complain about. I was a good partner, a good girl. I didn't have impossible expectations, but I did make assumptions, which made an ass out of me when I was sat down for the 'it's not you, it's me' speech.

After a decent interval (two years!) I realised that I wasn't getting any younger, and that it wasn't the end of the world to be 38 and single. Crap, crap, crap: it is the end of the world to be 38 and single, at least when you're being knocked around the pavement in South William Street by girls half your age.

They've got the right attitude, love-'em-and leave-'em, one I've never had myself. I've always been the feast-or-famine type, whoever was in front of me was the last man on the earth and I was going to hang on 'til the bitter end.

So here I am, at the bitter end. Here I am, realising it is time to do what every well-meaning mate has been trying to get me to do for months: I'm going to go internet dating.

It seems it's not just for saddos. I've been ignoring it for as long as I can, but it's simple: unless I transform myself into an ageing slapper turfing through a series of boy toys, I'm going online to find someone age appropriate.

Although I think I've had another epiphany: what exactly is so wrong about having a series of boy toys? I'm sick of being the good girl. Maybe it's time to try the slapper route -- before she ages too much. Alright so! I'm going to do it! I'm going online after Mr Right -- and maybe Mr Left, and Mr Left of Centre might look pretty good, too. I'm going to go internet dating. Except I'm crap with computers, and does anyone out there even know how to date?