I’ve been on many internet dates. I do it for the two reasons anybody ever does it: because I’m lonely and I’m horny. Oh, and I want to find true love, obviously.
For date number 67 or so, I’d arranged to meet Kate at an art exhibition – Egon Schiele’s The Radical Nude. There’s nothing like a detailed painting of labia to get a first date going. As we were heading in, she said: “My therapist says this is a good exhibition.” I laughed, admiring the boldness of the statement, which let me know she had a therapist, but in a lighthearted way. “I don’t know if my therapist is into art,” I replied, “but I know she likes David Lynch films.”