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Secrets of a headless 6 pack … the beginning

So the world of dating has moved on.  If it’s not daunting enough realising that the person you committed your life to, made vows to, promised your future to, turns out not to be the one for you.  I committed to sickness and health etc, not laziness, aggressive behaviour and mild narcissism.  We can cover the whys and wherefores of how I am in this position as a 42 year old, professional women with 2 young children and an unpleasant ex-husband at a later date.  I think it is important to remove judgement for now so we can view this essay or collection of observations for what they are.

There were a few triggers to get me back on to the dating scene.  Finalising a divorce with a very emotionally charged man who, it seems would still save our marriage even now, well, save probably isn’t the right word.  I assume he would welcome me back only to have the upper hand and control point for me returning with my tail between my legs….In order to get my divorce over the line with as little backlash as possible to all concerned, it seemed the easier path to just stay single until the ink was dry.

But distractions aside, the trigger was of course seeing my ex out with another woman.  Finally, I had the opportunity to move on, what is good for the goose is good for the gander, or what is good for the gander is good for the goose, whichever way you chose to interpret the gender stereotype reversal here.  Tinder and Bumble are the place to be, for dating, particularly during the height of the Covid lockdown period.  So that’s where I decided to start my search.

So let’s get down to it, what can we learn here, what is my story to tell, why are we here today?

I haven’t dated for 15 years, and I was pretty rubbish with guys back then.  Mid 2000 was a strange time, mobile phones only just becoming the norm, social media wasn’t really a thing, life was for the present and living.  Did I have a type then?  I suppose the point here is more around the person I was.  Looking back now, I don’t think I ever dreamed I would become the person I am today.  I had such a lack of self-worth at the time,  crippling shyness, unless with those I knew very well or sufficient alcohol.  So my choices in the male department were limited, incredibly limited. So you can picture the scene here … I didn’t have a type.  The question was, were they interested?

So how do you choose what your type is when you are faced with a myriad of different faces, photos, bios, facts and untruths to wade through.  Do you work through criteria like a shopping list or getting wedding dress made, 4 avocados, chilis, cucumber, milk, eggs, wine; off white, short train, silk, no embroidery…. 6ft 1, brown eyes, professional…

I pondered on this, you’ve got to start somewhere, perhaps its supposed to be as simple as “I like the look of this guy” … but it’s never that simple is it? Particularly when you have data. To narrow the field, my criteria was initially: 37-46, minus >5 years is too much, but I do lack maturity at times so don’t want and old 40 year old.  I look young, I am young spirited, I don’t want people thinking I’m with some fat old Investment duffer just for their money.  Back to the point …. There were certain names of guys that were out and out bin offs, no one under 5ft 8, I shouldn’t be height-ist of all people, however, I have the opportunity to create my Frankenstein here so why not.  No one interested in cycling, for obvious reasons, no pictures with tongues out … find it creepy and immature (don’t laugh at immaturity – I can own that).  No pictures laying in bed, guys trying to look cute and sexy, when it just shows chin sag and up noses … not cute.  No labourers, no offense guys, just can’t be doing with that stereotype.  I’m not going to go near the whole fish thing…. No gym shots, the list grows very easily, too fat, too skinny, too ugly, too old, too far away.  

So as you see.. spoilt as it seems for choice, I became picky and decided I had to ringfence the search. Istumbled upon a criteria I hadn’t encountered before, the mysterious face covered professional.  Not quite like The Son of Man, by Rene Magritte, but for some reason this is the reference it triggered for me … clearly then, we search for Pierce Brosnan in “The Thomas Crown Affair”  then again we need to focus on our focus and come back to the search…

How many of these guys are actually inspired by Magritte? Probably not many, most are driven by the fact that they don’t want their wives or girlfriends to bust them on dating apps.  Perhaps it was the mystery? Perhaps it was the fact that if I had such a profile a profile picture, I’d get the type of interest that isn’t suited to my demographic… let’s face it, a headless six pack gives a slightly different impression than a headless female in underwear shot… again … note to self, perhaps we can explore the gender inequality behind that statement at a later date.

Anyway, it became my experiment.  Unfortunately my underemployed highly functioning mind picked up on an outlet here.  But I still needed to narrowed down the field somewhat.  Maybe it was a protection mechanism, but people told me to have fun with the dating thing, and I got quite caught up in how interesting it could be. 

This may not be the right terminology but it will do for now, I got ever so slightly distracted on the male psyche exhibited on these apps.  I had to narrow my parameters and got quite distracted further, in more ways than one around the headless 6 pack otherwise known as the fit torso shot.

So we need some disclaimers here, identities have been obscured to protect the in some cases not so innocent, in others, make your decisions.  I will aim to remain as impartial as possible.  No headless 6 packs were hurt during the course of this experiment….

Let’s get started then, the Headless 6 packs fall into a few categories: and in some cases cross pollination occurs between more than one category:

The aged photo … ie no longer in possession of 6 pack

Fit but ugly… or unattractive – be kind 

Married (of course)

Professional – identity must be withheld to protect livelihood

Out and out fakes or catfish as we may like to badge them

So how do they do it?

Most will have average generic names, usually 4 letters, sometimes biblical, not always, but usually …

We need to bear in mind here that the first thought is that anything that looks too good to be true, generally is … or on the other hand if it looks like a duck and quacks, or if it looks like shit and smells like shit …. Unfortunately there is an anecdote for every eventuality.  But once these thoughts started dancing around my mind, I was hooked on the investigation.

I will continue my story in due course, I hope your interest has been sparked, I currently have curbed my search, for reasons again that will become apparent, but I have a handful of  insights unveiling the secrets behind the headless 6 pack.  I hope you stick with me to hear more:

Secrets of a Headless 6 Pack : No1 : Boring Adam

Where do we start… at the beginning I suppose with number 1.  And unfortunately this has more of a bearing on the male psyche than the 6 pack.  But start at the start. My first experience of the headless 6 pack, was low level.  I did escalate, but we will explore this in due course. This one started slowly … he was wearing under armour in the photo, not the full bare skin 6 pack… and a head shot if I had the patience to investigate the profile further. Not into endless texting… ergh strongly dislike this phrase however, we spoke on the phone a number of times.  He had a very lovely voice and was quick witted, conversational, breezy, defensive at times, a little too taken by the perceived power I may have due to my professional role, sometimes slightly childlike an naive.  Despite these points he was clearly intelligent, seemingly kind, not too concerned about my excessive work pattern and young family commitments.  So I decided to bite the bullet, and meet him.  Lock down was easing, it was summer, warm, light in the evenings .. so what did I have to lose.

Now this may be a quality or disadvantage, but I have a playful nature at heart, I am a trusting soul.  I believe in love, I believe in the dream.  I put myself and my family through, what turned out to be bordering on apocalyptic pain (never cross a Scorpio ladies) in the hope that there was someone perfect for me and me for them, dare I say a soulmate.  I feel a bit wanky saying that but I genuinely believe it, despite going 42 years with neither sight nor sound of anything close.  Digressing again, apologies back to boring Adam, but by his very nick name we must accept that it will be difficult to remain focused on someone nicknamed ‘Boring Adam’.

 On the whole, my headless 6 packs have averaged 6ft 4.  I am 5ft 2 … this in itself causes a quandary for a date.  Flats are out for starters, so dates need to be carefully managed.  This was particularly challenging as bars and restaurants were closed so outside areas were the only available choice, which in turn, inevitably involves walking …. You got it… no flats.. but walking … stumbling block number 1.

We were still in lock down, socially distanced dates permitted, this also helped for safety measures 2 metres apart, so tricky if we hit it off, but a god send if we don’t.  We had a “park date” arranged, in his defence he did offer to facetime before we met (and we did have a few weeks of conversing prior to meeting in person), but he sounded lovely, the chemicals in my brain were firing. I was flattered and lacking self-worth and confidence in my own looks and potential for conversation I declined the option of the control point that is Facetime.  And let’s face it, where is the fun in being prepared.  I wanted excitement, I was expecting this to be written in the stars, I have little patience so of course the first person I stumbled across was going to be the one … obvious right?

So down to the date: 

I am invariably late, or incredibly early, but more often than not these days invariably late (not proud of it). I always saw lateness as a reflection of rudeness or lack of care.  But I have learned that sometimes we just have too much to do, things overrun, things need to be done, critical paths aren’t always fruitful…. I’m doing it again aren’t I… I’ll get back to the story so we can knock Boring Adam on the head and get on with the more juicy stories.

So I suggested I might be late, but was in fact early, which meant I had to stand and wait, outside a pub in Ealing that was serving food. Picture the scene,  fair traffic at 6pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon.  Yes I was so embarrassed I wanted to die, getting less and less interested in meeting Boring Adam (but in my defence when you think you have a date with a hot 38 year old, the “Boring” element didn’t seem to be a thing, and in fairness, this is only a nickname coined subsequent to meeting).  Back to scene, I started wondering if I should just pick up a take away and drive home with it, however, no takeaway booking and 30 min drive, I thought I’d take my chances with a guy rather than a disappointing meal … you guessed it, should have had the crap meal.

So I’m keeping my eyes pealed, looking at my phone, checking in with my friends, who obviously had concerns that I would be kidnapped by Ukrainian Terrorists.  One of my friends of course had a spare Casio watch on hand in case Liam Nieson called.

Waiting irritates me, very much so, I was considering options per the above when a man starts walking towards me. I look out of the corner of my eye, obviously pretending to read my phone, but not.  Thinking, I think I recognise this guy, but don’t…. this is when I was faced with the first of our Headless 6 pack types… the aged photo.  I was not face to 6 pack, far from it in fact.  And the additional weight on his body was equally distributed to his face.  Now before anyone gets up in arms here, I am not being unkind about Boring Adam’s weight, please note, he lied to me, or gave me mistruths, he did however give the option to verify via facetime, which I did not take … my bad, but still, he lied so he has left himself open here.  

Now even the best of us have put weight on over lockdown, most used to busy lives running around, now reverting to remote working, long hours, limited outdoors time, panic buying food that needs to be eaten.. we’ve all been here right? And this one wasn’t excessive, but he clearly hadn’t seen a gym in some time.

So fake 6 pack bashing aside, back to the actual date.  We did circuits of a lovely park in Ealing, I was wearing 3 inch Reiss Pumps.  Initially, we stopped to sit on the grass, but something bothered him so up we got again to walk around the park again.  Not a thought from him about the effort I had made to try and mitigate any height issues and potential discomfort that may have caused me.  But back to the point, this is not about me.  Thankfully we had spoken on the phone a few times so could make conversation, but luckily I had my sunglasses on, so he couldn’t read the look of pure disdain, disappointment, oh so many things in my eyes.

So I don’t want to bore you further on this one, we have the picture.  This is an ok guy, good job, pleasant, educated, good background, some people would see him as a catch perhaps. He had however joked on the phone that he was 19 not 38 which gave me a vast degree of anxiety as any 42 year old can appreciate. But I went for a 6 pack and was extremely disappointed by the lack thereof.  And I noticed some traits that didn’t sit well with me, he poked fun, which to some people may seem cute, I found offensive, but the corker for me was when we were parting ways and he told me a story about how he had recently tested positive for Covid, then told me it was a joke, then asked to kiss me … yes … awkward.

So let’s leave this one here, you get the picture.. this is in the Too good to be true category or in the chalk up to experience category.  But the moral of the story is never settle.  To some, this guy is an ok catch, but for me, I’m looking for the jackpot, the one who makes my heart sing.  This is when I decided that I needed all of my boxes ticked.  I went through considerable pain, both self-inflicted and ex induced.  I would not settle for mediocre again.  I’d rather be alone than with someone who doesn’t delight me.  There was a dream to pursue, so down the A40 I go, and don’t look back from Boring Adam.

Date number one under my belt.  Outcome, must try harder.

Deluded Steve – always be wary if they say “my mother says I’m handsome”

Although this was one of the most short lived of my headless six packs, it is a personal favourite of mine and a very interesting insight into the delusion of some men.  Now fundamentally, Deluded Steve is actually a nice guy and I can’t say I don’t sympathise with his situation.  (Apologies, I’m not a fan of the double negative, however seem to use them often.) I expect many men and no doubt women are in this predicament. And incidentally, it is not wholly dissimilar to the problems in my own marriage and  triggers.  However the rights and wrongs of this situation and the potential repercussions can be catastrophic.  I’m sure there are a number of situations where this has been and can be, a reasonable solution for some marriages, but extra marital affairs include emotions and behaviours of a number of individuals and the outcomes carry significant risk.  I found that out the hard way for sure, but as mentioned, our purpose here is not to place the lens on my history, but to shed a watchful gaze over these headless 6 packs….

So here we have a man in his early 40’s, a professional guy, who keeps himself relatively in shape but he is not really a fully-fledged 6 pack as some of the others. In fact his 6 pack was actually created by a stomach crunch… sorry ladies. So what, I hear you ask, was the pull on this profile if not the legitimacy of his 6 pack?  

Firstly, one of the opening lines was “I’m not an idiot, promise … will send photos when we get chatting” well anyone who deems themselves not to be an idiot is going to trigger my interest in a heart beat, particularly in this investigation.  First thought, clearly … “check out this idiot” but this was nicely written, upbeat, didn’t specifically refer to being married and the clincher for me was “and my mum says I’m very handsome ; )”.  Well I couldn’t help but bite on this one, but it would have to pause shortly while I finished giggling to myself about this innocently written blurb.

So he reached out pretty quickly, maybe he decided to strike while the iron was hot, the keenness of a teenager without a doubt  and he was obviously very keen to share a head shot. The accolade from his mother about how handsome he is was clearly something he held high confidence with.  

He messages me, very buoyant, politely and unintrusively flattering.  Fancy chatting, let me know… there was something about his manner that made me think that perhaps he wasn’t an idiot and if he could be true to his word about that then perhaps he could be as handsome as his mother has suggested him to be.

With my interest tempted, I reply, charming, breezy, making reference that “I’m usually of the opinion that you can’t trust a headless 6 pack but you suggested the contrary so I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.” After a few short exchanges, practical questions regarding location etc,,, would you like a head shot …. Oh mother of deluded Steve, what did you create? But it doesn’t take very long for him to divulge his marital status and his sneaky plan to have his cake and eat it… not exactly single (winky face).  

Now I fully accept that you can’t take moral high ground when it comes to judging affairs, whilst mine wasn’t necessarily “justified” I understand fully, and I am reconciled fully with why it happened.  There is always an element of vanity in this situation, selfishness, ego, call it what you will.  But once the switch is flicked in your mind that this is an ok course of action then there is rarely a way back.  After all, if you manage to justify cheating on your significant other (for whatever reason) back tracking is effectively unjustifying that original logic, which is a tricky place for even the strongest minded individual to come back from.

Anyway, we can step away from being holier than thou. I am sharing this story with you as I have laughed so much to myself about this one that I’m hoping you can share in some of the delight of the naivety of Deluded Steve.  And I have been prompted to expedite this narrative because, quite by chance I had a nudge yesterday evening from Deluded Steve himself.  He inadvertently and very accidentally (apparently), sent me a very unarousing Dick Pic at 1030 on Saturday night.  I must admit, rather than being horrified it did have me in fits of laughter, so true to form for our precious Deluded Steve.  I’m still slightly unsettled by his poor choice of jockey short brand …. I feel so sorry for the poor intended recipient of that message.  

As amusing as it was, and the impetus for this blog, I’m not sure whether I can state that it disrupted my zen following my yoga practice, but it did remind me that life isn’t always to be taken too seriously.  However bad my days may get, I have never accidentally sent a bad dick pic to someone who blew me out catastrophically.

Real time aside, let us return to our tale.  I’m a bit tongue in cheek with this puppy dog of a would be six pack, but he is thinking I’m biting.  Now I may come across (or may not) as an objective observer, a scientist of sorts on tinder. But with every match on this site, I must admit, I do, even if very quickly, weigh up the prospects of these individuals.  I am after all one of life’s hopeless romantics.  Having a think about whether this person has a universal message for me, a connection, a teaching.  Given my own relationship breakdown I have suffered considerable impact to my self-esteem and self-worth.  The main perception of those who know me, particularly professionally would expect me to have high standards when it comes to men.  Or even consider that I was grounded and self-confident enough to take any liaison with a guy to just be whatever it was and be secure with that.  But for some reason, it seems validation from the opposite sex is one of my unhealthy crutches.  

Back to the story, Deluded Steve gives me the big reveal… he is married, (quelle surprise) needs to stay married, nothing happens in the bedroom department etc… poor Steve, thinks Steve, you shit thinks I. At least I connected with someone before I cocked up, not got fed up and then went scouting on a would be “hook up” site.  So I ask Deluded Steve, the infamous question … “what are you looking for Steve?” and was shocked by his answer. I will revert to actual text here because quite frankly there is no way on God’s earth to paraphrase this with the same impact.  “I’m looking for fun and excitement, preferably a friend with amazing benefits, chemistry and connection makes the benefits even more amazing.  Someone that can hold a conversation preferably with a sense of humour.” Again, tongue in cheek…. ‘Not much then Steve” now how this guy cannot read the irony and diluted venom in my tone astounded me, but to add insult to injury he says “yes I’m easy to please”.  My head is in my hands at this point.  I will be honest, this moment was like an uncomfortable point in a film with black humour, you want to laugh, your discomfort triggers the emotion to laugh, however every fibre of your being is telling you to run or be so fearful your legs won’t carry you.  This guy actually believes this shit.  Heaven help us all.

Now I am still a sucker for a hot guy, I am human after all.  And I am still in the dark as to how handsome Deluded Steve’s mother thinks he is, so I must proceed.  After all here I was on a Wednesday night, raining heavily, following a trying day, I’d decided to treat myself to a thai takeaway.  Whilst trying to park in a small town with a number of above standard restaurants and equally above standard average disposable income, parking was proving tricky, which further lends itself to my thought that maybe a dinner with Deluded Steve might not be the worst way to spend an evening.  And to be fair to Deluded Steve, I think there is a nice, lonely guy beneath this crazy profile and message exchange.  He seemed pretty happy to drop his list of ridiculous nice to haves back to “chat” pretty quickly.  Although, he was still holding the card of how handsome he is … thanks Deluded Steve’s mum ….So I drop him a hook, deciding to show off a little bit and I divulge that “having an affair was the best thing I ever did”.  Now I was showing off, sometimes I can’t help myself, please forgive my self-indulgence here.  Learning to cook paella was probably one of the best things I’ve ever done from the repeated joy it has brought to my life.  As well as the life lesson that Sangria is simply a waste of good red wine.  But again, I need to focus on my focus.

At this point he is clearly very pleased with himself for the excitement his deviance has afforded him, but he is called away for dinner by his poor unassuming wife, but asks me to message him on a different platform so he can share the elusive head shots that we’ve all been looking forward to.

Now crunch time, and unfortunately, there is no easy way of saying this, luckily, one thing went right for Deluded Steve that night, apparently he enjoyed his dinner. Unfortunately dessert was a disappointment.  Deluded Steve’s 4 knock out Handsome head shots…. Oh dear.  Head in hands again…. Steve’s mum …. Please, Steve please, just for the record your mother is very much mistaken, you are unfortunately not close to handsome. Not close at all.  I am sure we all deduced this early on in this narrative.  The unfortunate reality for poor, poor, Deluded Steve, is that he looked young, pale, geeky, not handsome, not handsome at all.  Sorry Steve.  

So how do we wrap this one up.  I had reconciled that expectations were low on this one, and realised on the big reveal that there was no longer any point in continuing my dialogue with Deluded Steve, he was not handsome, not the owner of a six pack, very deluded, high hopes for his search for “a connection making the benefits even more amazing”  Deluded Steve, no to benefits, no from me.  So I will close this one off with our actual exchange, as words  escape me on this one. He tagged the photos as “above the shoulders, as promised” well you did not keep that promise this weekend did you Steve? …. And cruel as it was, I replied “Well, you’re safe, we’re not having sex” which I thought would be the end of the conversation.   But no, you guessed it, Deluded Steve, ever the eager puppy approach … “ that’s a confusing statement … as in not ever… is that your way of saying I’m not your type …. Smiley face”… Steve my friend, I am shaking my head as I recall… poor, poor Deluded Steve.  God only knows where you will end up, heaven help you … and your deluded mother.

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