It’s happened at last. I’ve been discovered. Right now as we speak I’m being filmed as a maniac late-night internet addict. Hammer house of horror woman in front of back-lit laptop.
This is probably not how I wanted to be portrayed. Still. I’ve been discovered. Discoverees cannot be choosers.
My discoverer found me via my penchant, or previous penchant, for internet dating. The Guardian sent me an email. This is almost what it said:
‘Just stumbled across your wonderfully wise and witty blog. Hope you'll submit your stories to the Guardian Soulmates competition over the next few days: there are lots of prizes and no limit to how many times you can enter. The deadline's next Tuesday.’
That was quite few Tuesdays ago. More Tuesdays than can be contained in a small red shoe. I did as suggested. After all, who can resist being called wise and witty? Or prizes. Or Tuesdays?
I had many return emails saying ‘Yay! We are publishing your wise and witty piece.’ ‘Boo we are not sending you prizes!’. Then one said ‘Yay! We are coming to film you!’ I’m being filmed by a real documentary film maker. Not just my cat leaning on the record button.
Filming is an interesting process. It’s a method of distorting time. Not in the way one might like. The film is going to be 3 minutes long. Not long even in terms of cooking noodles, creating works of mediocre fiction, dates, dried fruit of any proclivity or a good night in. However filming is not like life. Filming is long and has numerous déjà vu moments and again and just again because they haven’t turned the camera on or haven’t got a valid battery or it seems just not to be in just exactly the exactly right light.
Filming in public is akin to trying to cook a noodle soup whilst waiting for form of a public transport. You keep getting interrupted. An old man wanders through shot making gentle farting noises. A group of lads decide it’s their turn to be a star (whereas actually it was mine). A toddler makes a lovely face into camera – didn’t understand what the objection to that was because frankly she was a lot more cuter than me and was liable to be an internet dater in due course. After all 50% of single people do. And 20% of people are single and another 80% of people wish they were single and therefore, given the maths, the small girl with the pink bow and the shoes that were mini Jimmy Choos will definitely be a future internet dater.
Meanwhile, back on the shoot, a man with a dustpan and brush tells us we can’t shoot here. Not where he sweeps. We might produce dust, small pieces of paper or possible litter the area with awkward sound effects.
Filming is an interesting process. It’s a method of distorting time. The film is going to be 3 minutes. As yet we have been filming for 3 weeks, 3 days, 3 hours and 3 minutes, 4 minutes, 5 minutes … It is not a way of making your life longer. This could be a worse hazard than smoking, chocolate cake, never getting off the sofa and Smarties all put together on a very sunny Spanish afternoon with no factor 50.
We await the results with nervous anticipation. I am applying sunblock.
The book Soulmates: Adventures in Online Dating featuring a great deal of my disastrous exploits is supposed to be out for Valentines day. Although I have been discovered I’m not going to be famous as we were required to use a nom de plume for our entries in the book. Just so as to make things clear for any innocent readers of the book I’ve used the nom de plume ‘Nom de Plume’ in case anyone thought it was me.
