never had to cover myself in aftershaves or spray. I’ve never bought aftershave in my life, it’s always been a gift. Same applies to underpants and tea towels. Suzanne recognises my smell, though, and she says she keeps some of my clothes around when I’m away so it smells like I’m there. It’s probably just an excuse not to get the washing done.
I didn’t feel any stress at this event. If a girl doesn’t like you because you’re boring or ugly it could be quite hurtful, but them not liking the smell of me doesn’t seem so bad.
I pulled out shirts and blouses and had a good whiff. I found my eyes started to interfere by looking at the size of the garment. I suppose that’s where there is a bit of a flaw in this scheme. It’s not that I find bigger women unattractive, it’s the cost to run them that worries me. Food isn’t cheap.
A woman came over after seeing me hold up her number.
KARL: Which one were you?
WOMAN: Twenty-nine. What did you like about it?
KARL: Can I have a smell again, or I could just smell you?
WOMAN: You don’t remember?!
KARL: Well, I’ve had me nose in a lot of stuff.
WOMAN: So you’ve just been willy-nilly choosing shirts that you smell, just like 1, 2, 3?!
KARL: No, I wasn’t! I wasn’t picking willy-nilly. I picked three. I smelled it for like twenty seconds. I’m not . . .
WOMAN: You picked three. So how many have you smelled? Three out of how many?
KARL: We’re not getting on, this isn’t happening.
WOMAN: No, it’s not working.
KARL: Listen, you smelled nice. You were me favourite.
WOMAN: I would be complimented if you even remembered which one I was.
KARL: I liked it at the time.
WOMAN: Okay, which one was it then?
KARL: Twenty-something . . . twenty-three?
WOMAN: No, sorry.
KARL: So that’s it?
WOMAN: Yeah that’s it. (walks away)
KARL: Jesus!
She might have smelled okay, but I guess smells don’t warn you about mentals. I think she was being a bit unreasonable. I’m human, not a bleeding police dog. A bigger woman came over. She looked like Velma from Scooby Doo – all curly hair and glasses. She told me I smelled ‘chocolatey’. Which was probably about right as I’d been eating Minstrels for about twenty-four hours.
KARL: Has anything ever come out of these events as a relationship?
WOMAN: Well, yeah. I mean, Judith who created this party tracks what happens to people, and relationships come out of it.
KARL: Well, that’s good then, ain’t it? Can’t knock it.
WOMAN: It’s no worse than any other singles party. It’s instinct. We’re animals.
KARL: Well said. See, I thought just chatting and showing knowledge helped attract people. Do you know what a wombat is? When a wombat has a shit, it’s square.
WOMAN: Really?!
KARL: Yeah, is that good?
WOMAN: (laughs) I do like that you know that, cos I like animals a lot myself. Did you know that when koalas are born the way they get their gut to digest eucalyptus is by eating their mum’s shit?
KARL: I haven’t heard that, no . . . I wasn’t aware of that.
WOMAN: I like facts very much, but I don’t always find that gets me a lot of dates.
KARL: It’s a start, though.
WOMAN: I haven’t found it to be a start so far. I was raised with the belief that guys don’t like smart girls. ‘Men don’t make passes at girls with glasses’ and stuff like that.
KARL: No, that’s a myth. Glasses are like a bit sexy in rude films. There’s always some sort of secretary with glasses on. It’s something to take off, isn’t it?
The woman who moaned at me earlier came by again. She told me I had good taste but that my brain was soft. I told her she was doing my head in. And, on that note, I left. I still think there’s something in it, though. There’s no point just going for looks, as they change as you get older. You lose them, and your body doesn’t look good forever either. I’m sure I’ve heard that we’re constantly shedding skin and it is totally replaced every seven years. So every seven years you’re a different person. That’s why people get the seven-year itch and stop getting on with their partner – it’s because they’re a different person.
ARRANGED MARRIAGES
I left LA and headed to India, where finding somebody to marry is not so complicated. In a lot of cases the parents take control and help you find the right person for you to spend the rest of your life with. People always seem to be well against this idea, saying it should be up to the person to decide who they want to be with, but do we really know what’s best for ourselves? People don’t do anything for themselves any more. They need help from Phil and Kirstie on Relocation, Relocation just to find a bloody house.
I see this arranged marriage set-up a bit like a set menu in a restaurant – you try something new, as you have no choice, and end up liking it. This was how I ended up trying scallops. We’re sometimes not best left to decide everything for ourselves. There’s a woman in America called Linda Wolfe who’s been married twenty-three times. How mad is that? She could have fed a small village in the Congo if she’d thought to sponsor her walks up the aisle. I can understand making a mistake with one marriage, but twenty-three?! Apparently, two of her husbands were gay and two were homeless. Surely there should be a limit to how many times you’re allowed to get married? I mean, I get locked out of my online bank account after three wrong attempts at a password. Britney Spears got married at the Little White Wedding Chapel I visited in Vegas. Her marriage was annulled fifty-five hours later. Fifty-five hours! I’ve had longer relationships with bottles of milk. The problem these days is nobody works at fixing problems. Whether it’s a relationship or a toaster that’s broken, they just replace it. You’re bound to fall out and have arguments and you should work at getting the relationship back together, but nobody wants to any more.
My first stop in India was at A to Z Matchmaking Management to meet Gopal, a marriage broker. Gopal runs a matchmaking service for parents who want to find someone to marry their son or daughter. Seeing as my mam or dad weren’t there, I went to look for myself to see if anything took my fancy.
As soon as I arrived I had to fill out a form with information about me, and then information about what sort of wife I was looking for. They wanted to know my name, email address, height, weight, exam results, how much I earned, was I a meat-eater, what my mam and dad did for a living. They also wanted to know what my blood type was! What difference does that make? I’ve
