With almost 1 in 3 now single, it definitely seems that people in Ireland are rightly waiting to find their best match before settling down.
For town-dwellers, often the best way to meet new people is by hoping to see that special someone in a pub or bar; but it's rare that such an encounter is one that takes your breath away.
A mutual love of the outdoors, for example, won't be enough to see a couple through the rougher moments in a relationship.
I reply, stating ‘for a teacher, your spelling isn’t the best’. And do they not realise that I can see their socks and jocks on the radiator behind them?
Or how lonely that lampshade-less light bulb in their single bedroom looks? The questionnaires that the guys have completed start to bore me to death.
I get regular notifications through my email account telling me that someone has added me as ‘his favourite’.
But being someone’s ‘favourite’ doesn’t necessarily translate into being asked out on a date, or even a message saying hello.
When you register, we use a 240-question personality questionnaire which tells us about your "Big Five" character traits.
With this, we focus your search onto singles whose personalities are most likely to give you harmony.
This online dating starts to feel like the nightclub I used to go to where drunken guys would do the rounds, staggering past every girl at closing time looking for someone, anyone for a goodnight kiss.
Gorgeous in Galway, 31, is actually drop-dead gorgeous and I wonder why the hell he is internet dating and more to the point, why he is looking at my profile? Ego in Ennis, 51, (and another of the faceless crew), insists that he has provided plenty of information about himself on his profile and that if I had read it properly, I would ‘clearly see’ that he would provide photos by email. He has Donald Trump hair to match the inflated sense of himself presented in his profile.
I find it hard to believe that his intentions are honourable. There’s lots of faceless men out there, like Unhappily Married in Urlingford, 38, who don’t upload photos and is pushy about chatting to me, as if this opportunity is what I’ve waited all of my life for. Dapper in Dublin, 39, looks promising, but then says that we live too far away from each other for a date. Other fellas probably really should have taken a bit of advice on how to take selfies for the purposes of actually getting a date.
The Teacher in Thurles, 37, (also faceless), writes ‘your lovely’. I try not to sound desperate and resist asking him to check the route on AA Routeplanner, like I already have. Many photographs make the potential suitors look like they came straight from Crimeline’s ‘Most Wanted’, a result of poor quality snaps taken directly from their PC, or phone, the ideal environment for showing off double/treble chins to their finest.
Fellas would fancy you, especially now that you have learned how to plough a field.” They give me tips for internet dating. I signed up for internet dating, on a whim, early one Sunday morning, after yet another weekend on my own with my mutt. Oh gawd, the template online is looking for a photograph. It’s times like this that a burka seems like an attractive form of dress in middle Ireland. I feel like giving up there and then and resigning myself to old age, with just me and my handsome mutt.