So, another Valentine’s Day has been and gone.  (It has gone, hasn’t it?  Can I come out from under my bed now?  Getting a little uncomfortable…whose idea was it to buy a futon anyway?)

Astonishingly, there was yet another story in the press yesterday about yet another middle-aged woman losing her life savings of some 40,000 quid to someone she regarded as the love of her life.  Even though they’d never met and he didn’t exist.  Naturally, there was all the ‘I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid’ talk,  the ‘I never thought it would happen to me’ rubbish…whatever chemical process takes place in these women’s brains, it’s plainly potent enough to qualify them to run for Parliament, should they ever feel so inclined.  (And, in a scary twist, get elected).

Anyway, seeing as this blog is something of a public service (I’ve got 2 regular followers now), it’s naturally incumbent on me to offer some much-needed guidelines about online dating.


1.       Never, ever divulge your bank account details to anyone in the very first email.  Be patient, you will know when the time is right. (NB: And don’t be too impressed at a Nigerian Prince writing to you.  They’re not as rare as you might think – every second email I get is from a Nigerian Prince, which obviously devalues the status.]

2.       Don’t promise to marry a gorgeous, fit hunk if they’re under 23 years of age and you’re an overweight, ugly woman of 67.  You’ll spend hours explaining to people he’s not your grandson, but your hot live-in lover.  Which, in addition, will make all your friends jealous.

3.       Resist the temptation to send nude pictures of yourself in a compromising situation until after the 9.00pm watershed.

4.       Be slightly alert if your suitor signs himself King Charles II, unless you have significant proof that he likes spaniels.

5.       Don’t believe all the compliments he er, compliments you with, unless they happen to be true.

6.       Be suspicious, when he takes time off from his job as a waiter to visit you from Turkey, if he refuses to bring you a turkey sandwich. With mayonnaise.  And lots of pepper. Thanks Hasan.

7.       Worry if he stays out every night clubbing.  He’s far too young to be making his way home alone in the early hours.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

What makes me such an expert on matters romantic?  Good question, I’m glad you asked.

Well, I have much first-hand experience of men.  (Won’t tell you what the second hand has experience of.  Mostly because it’s been so long, I can’t remember).  My last husband (No. 3) for example, soon explained to me after we got together that a man who buys his wife flowers should never be trusted.  Such as the previous husband before him, from whom I was in regular receipt of large, expensive bouquets delivered to my office when I was at the BBC. He was quite right.  I subsequently came to divorce the second husband, and now – after many local florists went out of business throughout the years, thanks almost exclusively to my third husband – am divorcing him on the grounds of suddenly starting to receive the odd posy.

I would say hoisted with his own petard, if only I knew what that meant.

Anyway, bah humbug to bloody Valentine’s Day.  Last year in Nice, the only thing sent to me was a bundle of divorce papers (really).  And this year, yesterday, I learned the results of last week’s blood test, which revealed an abnormally high sugar level.  Which is about the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me on February 14th.

Who said romance was dead? *

* CLUE:  It was me.


About notniceetoile

I'm a freelance comedy writer, now living in Brighton after a few years in London, having relocated back to the UK in 2011 after a couple of years of adventures on the Cote D'Azur. Check out my blog about life in Nice:- and my political satire blog:- Available for weddings (3 to date) and barmitzvahs (0 - I'm a girl, duh).

Posted on February 15, 2012, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. If a man called Trésor wants to sell a brand new car which is in the UK while he is in Senegal and explains to the route it has to take to be delivered to its destination and affirms it is cheap because he wants it to go to someone deserving whom (well he probably didn’t use the object pronoun – it’s just attention-seeking) he judges would take good care of it … well, if this happens, to a friend of mine, not me at all, ô non !, should I log off immediately or is there a chance it’s a genuine car bargain?
    Au secours !

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