I’m delighted to introduce to you the first of a couple of men who’ve plucked up the courage to write for Her Glass Slipper. Meet Elodin Pendragon. Life coach, writer and general all round rock star.
My Quest For Love hit a wall. Whilst lamenting my singleness to a couple of my married friends over a glass of rose (don’t judge me), I may have used the words ‘shelf’ and ‘left’. They decided to stage an intervention. Or at least, a suggestion. Not one of those immensely irritating suggestions couples often offer like ‘the right person will come along at just the right time’, all said whilst holding hands and gazing gormlessly into their lover's eyes. No, this was practical. This was advice. This was serious.
I nearly snorted my Zinfandel out my nose when they suggested internet dating. Admittedly lashing out of wounded pride, my immediate reaction was ‘it’s not THAT bad.’ The response of silence said more than a thousand words. Even their one year old daughter thought it was a good idea. Well, that’s how I interpreted her inane cackling and attempts to forcefully extract my eyeballs from my skull. Caught off-guard, they played the G card: “you know, you need to cast your bread upon the waters.” That is a quote from Ecclesiastes and no one really knows what it means. After all, how does soggy wet bread floating downstream have anything to do with taking action? But I got the subliminal subtext, albeit more slowly than usual whilst I protected my precious corneas.
Later on, post-Zinfandel slump, I sat down in front of my laptop and googled ‘Christian dating sites’. Unsure whether my woosiness was grape or nerve induced, I opened up a number of sites to see what was on offer. Generally speaking, I came to the conclusion that my Quest For Love was going to cost me a pretty steep monthly fee. Due to my lack of conviction this was the way forward, I added the prefix ‘free’ to my Google search, re-searched, closed my eyes and clicked on the first link. “Give it a month or two,” I said to myself. Or Zinfandel said to me.
The visual delights that beheld me as the website loaded induced a combination of non-Zinfandel nausea and wonder; wonder that someone would use the word ‘design’ in describing this page. The only people who would possibly match this kind of creation would be Cold War era Soviets seeking to torture suspected state enemies. It was unbelievable. I can’t tell you whether it was the size 6 Comic Sans font or the blurred slanted photos that weirdly induced motion sickness, but it was bad. The colour scheme was (and still is – I checked) purple and black with white text. Purple and black.
Which causes me to think of, in no particular order, witches, deadly nightshade and seedy cigar smoke filled jazz clubs that have questionable goings-on occurring behind thick velvet curtains. None of these are cyber-aphrodisiacs conducive to the Quest for Love. I felt violated even being on the site.
But bread, cast, waters. I’m not telling you the site name but if you say it really quickly in a French accent it sounds a bit like ‘loser haw-he-haw’. Which summed up exactly how I felt as I completed the humiliating questions to build my personal profile. I uploaded a decent picture of me. One that actually looked like me. Looks wise, I’m not billboard, but I’m not inbred. It was an accurate representation of my visage. Fully armed and equipped, I began to peruse the site. Which really means that I jumped straight to searching for female profiles within my age range and within my geographical area. The Quest for Love had begun!