Last time I was single I used an internet dating site to try and meet people. It was exciting, weird and fun, and also often awkward.

There was a guy who I was messaging on and off for quite a while. He seemed really nice, into the same things as me, definitely ( or so I thought ) a possible candidate. He seemed quite sweet, which I like, and he’d shared some fairly personal stuff with me ( not that sort of personal stuff, I never open emails with photographic attachments from people I’ve met on t’internets, obvs ), which endeared me to him.

Now I know what you’re thinking, you cynical internet people, you. You’re thinking, classic seduction move, what’s wrong with you! He’s only sharing supposedly personal stuff because he thinks that’s what chicks dig. To which I reply ‘uh dur, I know.’ and then ‘also,”what chicks dig” ? hate to tell you this but we’re not in 1955 any more Marty‘  

But anyhow, I know its all part of the dance, so I went with it. We made plans, and decided to meet up. I followed the rules, public place (pub), tell someone where you’re going (flatmate), pack a weapon ( fork cellotaped to inside thigh ). We both arrived at the same time, sat down, had a drink, went to the ‘toilet’ to let our friends know we weren’t dead/kidnapped and then, just as things were going reasonably it happened.

Hotel Yorba by The White Stripes came on.

We were mid conversation when it started playing, and he held up his hand. He held up his hand dear reader, in my face. I’d like to imagine that the pub fell silent as he did this, like in a western, and then I kicked his ass ( with my fork ). It didn’t. I didn’t. Things got worse.

 “you know”  he said “they were so much more real, more like proper musicians before they sold out to the man”  He paused dramatically. “Of course I was into them years before that happened , when they were raw and untouched by commercialism, it’s such a shame everyone started liking them”

Now, the hand thing was bad enough, but a music snob as well? Suddenly my future did not include him in it.

I expect you’re thinking that I came up with some witty and clever put down about how it must be awful for Jack and Meg to have millions of people loving their music, and how he’s ( the date ) just a prick, but life of course doesn’t go like that. My hilarious and genius reply?

“erm, I kinda like them, Hotel Yorba makes me happy”  

Needless to say the date didn’t go on much further, and we didn’t see each other again. And yes, Hotel Yorba still makes me happy.

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