Swipe left for lockdown, swipe right for the ‘cuffing season’

Lockdowns make you randy.

Don’t take my word for it. British matchmaking site eharmony commissioned one of those funny little surveys in the way brands do when they want publicity but have nothing to say, and came up with some sexy figures to leer over. Since you and I share similar interests, one being that neither of us have any great aversion to numbers, I thought you might be interested to read the significant stats.

• Weekly registrations at eharmony were aroused by 22% after the prime minister threatened at the end of September to introduce regional lockdowns.

• Of the singletons now looking to couple-up, a swelling 40% said they wanted “companionship” that was lacking during the first lockdown.

• Year-on-year comparisons strip naked the fact that eharmony signups have increased 92%.

• Those living in North-East England are the most likely to take things in hand, some 36% admitting to “feeling the pressure” to meet somebody before doing so will be banned by government diktat.

There you have it: the data says so, therefore it must be true.

Apparently, autumn is known in the dating industry as “cuffing season” because of the propensity of chilly individuals wanting to become warm couples in time for winter hibernation. Or it might have something to do with those fluffy handcuffs your Secret Santa disturbingly bought you at the last departmental Christmas bash.

I recognise a logical association between bad weather and the old ‘Hunt for Red October’. When I was a student I was randy all year round, and this can be explained by the fact that my hilltop university was permanently exposed to thrashing rain and howling wind every day regardless of the season.

In those days, I thought being the DJ on Sunday-night discos might raise my profile, but to no avail. It didn’t help that the tools of the amateur DJ trade in the 1980s were rather more rudimentary than those of the technologically enhanced disc spinning gods of now.

Think ‘Skrillex: the early years’…

To this day I can’t work out what the problem was. I mean, I had everything going for me: the hot looks, the trendy behind-its-time haircut, the ironic outfit, and some wicked shapes to throw on the dance floor. Where could I have gone wrong?

Anyway, eharmony isn’t the only matchmaker doing good business out of people’s misery/joy [delete as appropriate; those without sin etc]. I note that last month’s global top-selling app on the iPhone store was Tinder, grossing $33.8m. And lest you should assume Americans are feeling significantly lonelier than the rest of us while heading towards their elections – I can’t imagine why – a good 49% of Tinder’s revenue was earned outside the US.

OK, maybe there is a cuffing season and we’re penetrating it right now, but I feel unaffected. This is most likely to be due to the fact I got married. Sorry I didn’t send you an invitation: it was all a bit of a rush, there were restrictions on the number of guests I was allowed, and it took place 30 years ago.

It is said that men think about sex throughout the day. I consider this to be a bit of over-generalisation. Maybe if I was a camera operator for a porn movie studio, yes: it’s important to keep your mind on the job and your lens on the er, well, er… [have we already used ‘Red October’?] However, I admit to sexual interpretations popping into my head from time to time, quite inappropriately – which makes them all the more entertaining.

It might just be me; it might be all men; it might be anyone of any gender. Perhaps we can find out. Would you like to participate in a test right now? Good.

Here’s the scenario: imagine you’re enjoying a brisk walk in the park and have observed there are painted road-markings to designate the narrow path to which pedestrians should keep so that they do not get in the way of the much more important cyclists. The photo below depicts what you see. What pops into your mind?

If you are baffled by this test, than it’s obviously just me.

Here’s another example that may leave you scratching your head. One day while ambling though the medieval old town of my fair city, I called Mme D’s attention to an ornate antique iron door knocker. She said: “Oh look, it’s in the shape of a lion.”

This came as a surprise because it absolutely did not look like a lion. So we strode across for a closer look.

Here’s a photo I took from the left-hand side, rotated 90 degrees so you can see it better:

OK, I thought, so it is a lion after all. I wonder why I thought it could be anything else. Just to make sure, I took another shot from the right-hand side, again rotated for your viewing convenience:

Sure enough, it’s the back of the lion. Obviously my brain in warped because when I first spotted the door knocker as we walked by, it looked like this:

The door knocker is in the shape of a lion, of course it is. How silly of me to imagine otherwise. I even tried it out to make sure. I admit I felt a bit of a dick.

Do feel free to share any of your own photos that inspire Rorschach-Freud responses, and let me know I’m not completely warped. In the meantime, I have a heap of pre-hibernation chores to get through before lockdown yuletide lands.

Any idea where I can get replacement parts for fluffy handcuffs?

ALISTAIR DABBS is a freelance technology tart, juggling tech journalism, training and digital publishing. He earnestly hopes you have been making the most of the double-dose being served up each Friday. If not, you may wish to read this week’s Something for the Weekend, Sir? at The Register before beer o’clock hits. He also hopes you brought your own beer because the bars are shut.