There are no fish in the sea

Back during my previous bout of unemployment - not the one that's just ended, the one before that - I was watching the telly when an advert came on for a certain dating website that declares its ability to find your perfect match through a series of scientific and mathematical formulae. Given that I was single and, more to the point, had far too much time on my hands, I thought I'd check it out. I spent un unfeasibly long time checking boxes to indicate things like how much importance I place on fidelity, and my level of interest in the fauna of Papua New Guinea, and clicked the 'find my matches' button. This was the response:

"Sorry. We currently have no matches for you"

I am officially incompatible with the entire world. This probably isn't surprising given my extreme levels of intolerance for....well....pretty much everything actually, and it leads me to wonder whether it's odd that I would rather be single than date someone who commits such trivial crimes as writing in text speak or disliking cats. I genuinely would though. Apparently I'm incapable of just making do with someone who's not quite perfect. Maybe I've watched too many Disney films, but I find myself unwilling to settle for anything less than the fairytale. This, of course, means that I will end up, to quote from the play I was recently in, "dying alone in a house full of old Argos catalogues and cat food". With any luck the abundance of kitty chow will prevent me being eaten by my feline companions before the smell of my decomposing body alerts my neighbours.