Six degrees of separation

One of the worst things in the world, up there with cholera and Tesco's own mayonnaise, is the Guardian Soulmates popular list. The website apparently has over 130,000 active users, which makes us sound like energetic heroin addicts, and out of that unfathomably large online population, larger than the number of residents in Slough, the twenty girls and twenty boys who are a) made a 'favourite' by the most other users and are b) sent the most emails go onto a chart. The top twenty girls are listed first. Pretty much without exception, they are in their mid-twenties, very attractive, with long hair, a big smile and their head tilted slightly to one side. They all say they're happy to meet guys up to around aged 35, which means that the boys I'm interested in also have these lithe, uncellulited beauties to choose from. Not that I post photos of my cellulite on Guardian Soulmates, but, like the real story behind the moon landings and Tom Cruise's sexuality, the Truth Is Out There.

Then there's a list of the men. They are a handsome bunch, mostly in their early thirties, and not fans of the head tilt. Instead, they go for a rugged, wide smile, and stare straight to camera, indicating openness and honesty. Out of the twenty, only one has anything other than a full head of hair, which cannot be representative. And of course, like all truly awful things (spider plants, smallpox), the situation is horribly self-perpetuating. Once you're on the popular list, far more people see your profile, and you get far more emails.

Needless to say, I, with my mid-length hair and untilted head, have never been on the popular list. The closest I've come to it was going out on a date once with a guy whose sister had been at number three and was so devastated when she fell to number seven that she had to leave the site altogether. It's always seemed like the kind of webpage I should probably avoid unless I wanted a good cry. And, mostly, I was able to steer well clear. Until a few days ago, when I went on a date with a guy who's on the list - and I liked him. Very Katy Perry. Now I hover round desperately hoping for him to drop off the chart (and sadly he's in the top ten so it doesn't look likely), while trying to block out all thoughts of how many hundreds of coquettish messages he's getting each day from leggy, tilty-headed vixens.

Sadly, I don't see that there's much I can do, except campaign for this irritating section of the Soulmates website to be removed immediately. Singles of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but a small fraction of your terrible self-hatred! Join me in fighting to ban the popular list! Popularity stinks! Who wants to be popular? Not me, that's for darn tootin'! I want to be kooky and different and have only two or three balding men emailing me at any one time! Yes siree, that's why I pay my £22 every month. Yup. It's alllllllll good.