ONLINE DATING: The Experience

Truthfully, that is what had happened. A quench for curiosity. Perhaps i took it over-board, or situations thereabout, whichever way, she was seated opposite me. She gave me a re-assuring brilliant smile. I gave her a stupid smile.

                     
I had heard about DateMatch from somebody, somewhere. I can't remember from whom, which does not matter anyway. What was this website about? Why would people want to meet and date online? Why would anyone be so vulnerable and hope-less in love to venture into Internet-arranged hook-ups? Y'know, those kinds of questions that makes a good writer whip out his greatest strategy to unlock the answers: The Investigation. so i clicked the mouse button.

The site led me to a preliminary personal information quest, which i comfortably faked. My user name was 13INCH, not in reference to any of my anatomy size, but for anonymity purposes. I did not fake my Country's and Place of Residence localities, Kenya and Westlands respectively, for a nudge at the crest of my brain forbade me to.

Afterward i circumnavigated through a myriad of scantily-dressed ladies, others pompously sharing photos of fleshes in their nether regions or thereabout. The more i scrolled through the page, the more my investigation unravelled answers and the more i got entangled. I convinced myself that i was on the right track and my extra-jovial feelings had everything to do with journalistic enthusiasm of triumph

                                                         

Soon my page was awash with beauties all claiming undying love for me. I was overwhelmed with emotions. Years and years had squeezed by and no lady had mentioned the coveted four-letter word to me except on the height of explosive orgasms while their stilettos are hitting the ceilings. And most of those time, cataclysm of alien names would filter out of the coital-induced yelps.

That led me to a series of distinct bonding with most of the ladies with majority insisting for my photos to utter futility. It was after four weeks of chronic 'chatting' that i ended up taking a particular interest to a certain 'CLEANSHAVED2822' whose chatting were devoid of lurid sex talk and wild performance braggadocio. And i found her chat-name quite captivating.

We agreed to meet in a populated joint in Westlands, Famous Dave's, at two in the afternoon. She would be in a green sweater and pallid petal-sleeved Billie dress. I would be in a red tee and black pants, i naturally lied.


I put on a pressed Apollo suit with a starch-white shirt and Kenya Rugby Association's red tie. I squeezed off the last drops of Yardley English Blazer cologne on my shirt collar. After ensuring my wallet had a debit card (I had lied am working-class) i swiftly hopped into a ten-bob ride to Westie.

I saw her before she saw me and i found her striking. I quickly eased myself on an empty seat opposite, startling her.

"13 Inches?" she inquired, quizzically, with a tinge of embarassment.

"Call me John," I laughed. It was funny. "And you?"

"Lucy."

The first dice had been rolled.