Dear Tracey,
Your plan to move back to your hometown to hunt
down a man / woman has recently been brought to my
attention. I feel it is my duty, as a stalwart on the
Margate singles "scene", to warn you of your impossible
nature of your quest.
According to wikipedia, your artwork `my bed`, was
`inspired by a sexual yet depressive phase in (your)
life when (you) had remained in bed for several days
without eating or drinking anything but alcohol. `
This sounds like my summer and while that was bad
enough, we are now entering the winter of date-
discontent and, much like the aged bodily fluids on
your bed, my love and sex life has dried up. After
a wild summer of promiscuous abandon, I am staring
down the barrel of winter nights of self- loathing
induced by the solo consumption of whole bottles of
wine on a daily basis. My bed still resembles `my
bed`, but without the sexual paraphernalia and
"seminal" status. With everyone else in town popping
out mini Margate Creatives, I have turned to the cold
shallow depths of dating apps. However, my attempts
to swipe right have been thwarted by a slew of faces
i know, many of whom i also know are in relationships.
Their single ghosts lingering on only to remind us
still looking that our chances of finding love are
dwindling by the day.
I have seen friends fighting over men they`ve never
met, because their Tinder profile is apparently irr-
esistible. anyone new in town is snapped up quicker
than you can say "but is it art? " Plus, within days
of moving to Margate, these men have at least 50
mutual friends on Facebook and i have to ponder
whether that`s too many for me to trust that they won`t
tell everyone if i can`t find my pants in the morning.
As you`re into art and romancing inanimate objects,
you could have found your perfect match in Anthony
Gormley`s drowning man. But like so many men on
Tinder, it looks like he might not be sticking around
forever(btw is it adulty if you cheat on a rock?
I wouldnt want you to get caught by a rock on a
hard face).
So that might be you sorted. For me it`s a cont-
inual left swipe of my tired thumb. And then there
it is. The groundhog screen. The one thats says:
`sorry there`s no one new around you right now`,
`sorry you`ve run out of options`. `sorry you`re
as wash up as old walpole plastic`. I spoke to some
non- Margate friends about the situation and one
suggested i cast my net a bit further. `Or just your
legs` another quipped.
Which brings me swiftly back to you and your bed.
On behalf of Margate singles, I welcome you back with
open arms, even while our legs remain inexorably
together. But if you`re hoping to find love in Margate,
join the back of the que, love.
Yours sincerely.
Sex by the sea.