The Moment of Truth-- or Not 

By Gaie Sebold

Am still exploring strange world of Internet Dating. Keep telling others (and self) that this not merely desperate attempt to find Significant Other with whom to sail choppy waters of life in search of, among other things, less clichéd metaphor, but also Wonderful Source Material.  

Not, as yet, proving to be the case. Providing more distraction from writing than actual material for same. But then, write fantasy. Do not tend to meet many wizards, elves, half-orcs, etc., online. Shame, especially about half-orcs.  

Drift off into brief fantasy, grab libido by scruff of neck and haul back towards reality, which is sadly short of men with tusks. Wonder what it is about tusks. Suspect deep Freudian something-or-other. Or possibly very shallow one. 

Internet dating not only lacking tusks, pointy ears, wizardly abilities, also lacking much in the way of established etiquette, especially for writer. Always aware that will, at some point, reach That Moment.  

After perusal of profiles, and exchange of hello-I'm-interested-are-you messages, descend, like Dante, through various stages. E-mail chat follows, intended to discover level of compatibility and whether Possible Person has deep hatred of all one's favorite authors/films/forms of weekend activity, phobia or life-threatening allergy regarding one's pets, or any indication of tendencies towards chopping one up into small pieces and storing in wardrobe.  

If no obvious run-away-and-hide indications forthcoming, this followed by exchange of personal e-mail addresses. Exchange of phone numbers (mobile only). Exchange of surnames. Arrangement to actually meet, in the real world. If this not a deeply depressing/horrifying experience, followed by further meetings and exchange, eventually, of landline numbers, etc., etc., etc.

However, if one or both parties commits writing on regular and especially professional or semi-professional basis, further stage, unknown to lucky mortals not infected with Scribbling Disease, inevitably intervenes. That Moment when one or other party says; "I'd love to see some of your work." 

Awful stomach-dropping sensation. What to send?  

Would think that as have pursued various forms of writing would have fairly wide selection to pick from, but whole thing fraught with potential shame and horror.  

If other party's reading list starts with Proust and continues to swim with shark-like grace through deep and glittering waters of current cutting-edge literature, daren't send anything at all as will come across as mere frivol, splashing in warm, shallow waters of genre. 

If other party fantasy fan, would think not difficult. Alas, no. If likes China Mieville, for example, dare not send serious fantasy as not really within miles of Mr. M's darkly intelligent powers. If other party likes Terry Pratchett, dare not send comic fantasy as do not wish to come across as slavish imitator of The Great Man.    

If on other hand, discover other party likes John Norman and Gor novels, simple. Just cut off all contact and replace any vulnerable-looking pictures of self on dating site with butchest pictures one can find of self wearing serious armor and carrying scowl and large, sharp weapon. Immediately.  

If other party writes too, of course, can always cheat, and let other send something first. But then what if writing wonderful? Will be totally outclassed. What if not wonderful at all?  Bad enough trying to be encouragingly tactful in critique group; commenting on literary effort of potential Significant Other requires black belt in tact.  

If other party writes poetry, whole thing becomes entire potential embarrassment buffet, on both sides. Remember being startled and anxious, though flattered, when received somewhat-- um-- excessive love poem from chap had only been talking to for a few days. Sent bemused response, only to be told, "Oh, it wasn't about you." 

Not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. 

Wonder if should abandon writers altogether and try dating pro-wrestlers instead. Would certainly provide material. Surely closest possible thing to half-orcs, and never know, might even find one with tusks.

Gaie Sebold's short stories have appeared in, among others, Black Gate, City Slab, and Legend and she has received an Honorable Mention in Year's Best Fantasy and Horror. Her first fantasy novel (first publishable novel, that is) is now with an agent and she is currently working on her second. She is a member of T Party Writers and commits occasional poetry readings. Her first poetry collection, Urban Fox (The Tall-Lighthouse, 2001) is available at Amazon.co.uk. Contact her at urbancat<at>talk21.com.

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