"Fantastic, I'd have never joined up to online dating if it wasn't for a friend of mine who set me up on your site. I've never been a fan of writing about myself or trying to 'big' myself up...... " "I met a total hunk on MSF, very true to his profile and one of the most gentlemanly men I have ever met!Forget chancing meeting a nice guy on a night out, life is too short to play a waiting game! " There's no cringey profile writing, because we believe that your friends know you best - so they write your profile for you!
I discuss online dating and my new book, Casting The Net, on the BBC Radio Scotland show, Macaulay and Co. Aulay_and_Co_20_06_2013/ Snap it up NOW from Amazon for £1.99 at the link below.
Also available as a paperback for £6.99 at the second link
s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1371302611&sr=1-1&keywords=casting+the+net+Julie s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1371304734&sr=1-1&keywords=casting+the+net+julie Here’s the front cover of the book, which is about my online dating experiences.
It’s based on the blog you read here, but is an ‘uncut’ version packed full of the juicy bits The Herald couldn’t allow.
It also has an introductory chapter explaining how and why I started online dating.
You can keep in touch by liking my author page on Facebook here https:// The Clown had been thoughtful enough to set his radio alarm clock for me but, once The Today Programme clicked on, I was on my own.He’d reached over, scratched at my back, then rolled away into sleep again. I shrugged to myself, thinking I’ve shamelessly thrown myself at this man so all thought of ‘etiquette’ is long gone.He obviously wasn’t getting up to make me a coffee or see me off. It was awkward, creeping around in the Clown’s silent flat.I’d prefer to have just unlocked the door and slipped out but I couldn’t find my coat. I had to go back into the bedroom and shake the slumbering oaf awake to ask where it was. He’s kept me waiting for months, so he can wait just a bit longer.Keep reading here The panic went straight for my throat.I wanted to claw the doors open and jump onto the tracks. I moved quietly towards the doors, in a quintessential British terror of ‘making a scene,’ and stood there praying for the next station so I could jump out.?