Can I have a gift subscription?

Saturday morning, bored and somewhat restless. The Bazza Boot Camp demo isn't until later, I don't want to start tidying up, the very thought makes me feel tired.

I switch on my laptop, see what's lurking in my inbox besides my daily horoscopes.

Ooh, I have a 'new fan'.

A while ago my old online dating provider sent me an email saying if I don't visit the site, my profile would be automatically deleted. However, if I went into the site, it would push it back towards the top. OK, delete me then!

A few weeks later I receive a message saying I have a 'new fan' and curiosity gets the better of me and I hit the link.

In my absence I have received quite a few messages. Their names remain but not the messages; it's been months and months and months since my subscription expired. Way before I even visited Old Shit School Acquaintance back in April. I never deleted myself, even set up a profile on a new free site which I never bothered visiting either.

I've had the odd 'new fan' recently but ignore it. Today though, I am restless. Who are you?

MakeHay.

"Loved the profile and pictures," he writes. "I am an inch under your price range but if you can barter it would be great to hear from you."

I read his profile and it's quite tongue in cheek. His picture looks ok but you never can tell. MakeHay sounds interesting!

I look at my one liner options:

I'd love to chat but I don't have a subscription yet. Hmmm, I'd love to chat but I am not going to subscribe.

How about a gift subscription? Oh tis very cheeky! In the past I have often asked the interesting sounding ones to buy me a subscription but I don't enjoy it because it doesn't say 'please'. They so rarely buy me a subscription though that I think 'what the hell?', send the one liner, then go and have a bath.

I must also wash the de-nitting chemicals out of my hair.

Oh mercy, if there is anything I hate more than de-nitting my son, it's de-nitting myself. It may come out clear, it often does, but what a SHITTY job what with my long, long hair.

With no shower, I have a shallow bath then afterwards hang my head over the side and shampoo.

Wearing my dressing gown, I take my de-nitting equipment over to the laptop and decide to "surf and comb!"

"Your subscription has been activated."

MakeHay! I hope you turn out alright!

First things first, I thank him. He is online and returns a message saying he admires my profile and do I have a long list of men emailing me.

I say no, only two or three, which is true (who I sent one liners to not asking for subscriptions).

He sends me a link to a PJ Harvey song, "We Float" and asks if I stole my siblings sweets as a child. I answer then listen to the song which I find a bit heavy for a first 'chat' but nice of him to send it.

We email back and forth but he must be chatting to lots of women because he takes ages to answer.

Not a problem for me, I've just combed out a fecking dead nit. AAARGH. BASTARDS.

I consider my situation. MakeHay has no idea what I am doing in between emails. He is possibly assuming that I am emailing other men.

Do I tell him I'm de-nitting myself? I most certainly do not! My god, if my blog was my dating profile, I would remain single forever! For ever and ever after! Quelle tragedie!

I finally complete my denitting process, MakeHay has not responded for a while so I log out and pack my bag for the Boot Camp demo. I'll just watch, I won't take part but I take my uniform just incase the Master needs me.

I make a mental note to blog this episode later even though I don't want to admit to the whole wide world that I get nits. But then surely it's an occupational hazard isn't it? I'm not the only mother in the whole wide world to get them, am I?