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I have been single for a while and occasionally my friend Suzanne drags me along to singles events in London organised by youthful matchmaking companies. Can't stand them, but if I go with Suz, we can survive the night by swapping horror stories and gossip about the enemy (the enemy meaning either random blokes with terrible skin at these events or the dread of walking into the ladies loos for a pow-wow and realising we've entered Bitch Central). So on one such occasion, we went to a singlesnight on Valentines Day. She had seen the event advertised on the London Underground and signed up by text message. Before I knew what was happening, my phone rang, it was Suz, "Log on to Londondating.com, your user name is XX and then you can create your own password. It's for an event I've signed us up to. Don't worry, all under control" -click- OK, thanks Suz. So I dutifully logged on, to see that the onyl way you can sign up to the event was by creating an online profile for the world to see. I had to state my interests (music, gigging, hiking, roller blading), my stats (I skipped that part), upload a photo (decided on the black and white one because my skin looks flawless) and then describe in no less than 20 words what sort of pizza topping I would be if I died and came back as one. You've got to love those naff marketing ideas. I decided I would be pepperoni and extra cheese. Let them read into that what they will. I surfed around the site for a while to see what sort of chaps would be attending the event. Frankly they all look spotty, young, up for a shag and zero conversation. In other words, total lads - the kind of guy I avoid because I'm afraid they might give me something I don't want. Boredom. Anyway, brave face, make up, high heels, waxed armpits and legs I made my way to the tube station where Suz and I agreed to meet. She was looking hot as ever and complemented me on looking stunning as well. We linked arms and put on our Sex and The City strut to the event. On entry there was a queue girls to the left, boys to the right. (Canons to the left of them, canons to the right of them...in my mind....) At the head of the queue were promo girls wearing tight T-shirts, Madonna style headsets and mouthpieces and ultra permed hair. I got that sinking feeling and gave Suz the glare that said "were your friek filters switched on when you signed both of us up for this event?". She shrugged and we examined our competition and our potential dates. It was so awkward

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