Opinions of Insufficient Interest

It's time to reveal my deepest, darkest secret. I'm on a research panel. Every week or so, the nice people at the market research agency Harris email me a questionnaire about all kinds of weird and wonderful topics.

Sometimes it's not so interesting. "What is your opinion on mobile phones?", "Tell us your thoughts on train travel", "Hello, what do you think about socks?" - OK, actually that last one is made up. Could you tell?

Now and again I get interesting surveys about new products. I got asked what I thought of the packaging for some cheese, and also a new range of frozen chicken. I'm pleased to share my thoughts and participate in this vital scientific research.

This afternoon I was invited to take part in a new survey. "We'd like your opinions on interesting health topics!", they said. It turns out that "interesting health topics" means "sex toys", and once again, I am starting to wonder if I have somehow started to gain some kind of reputation. Perhaps Harris have been talking to Amazon, who after their somewhat frisky email last year, have at least not troubled me again.

But back to the questionnaire. Question 1 wants to know which kinds of implements I use, or have used, in my lovemaking boudoir. Condoms, sir? Well, of course, what considerate gentleman doesn't? My answer to this question is strictly theoretical, as long time readers will know, but I try to approximate my answers for the benefit of scientific research.

How about 'specialist' soap for lovemaking purposes? Well, have to admit, I never realised that such a thing existed. That'll be a 'no' then.

Vibrators? No. How about non-vibrating toys, sir? Hmm... Lubricants? No.

And then the questionnaire went away as quickly as it arrived. It seems that my answers were insufficiently exciting to merit any further questioning. Once I noticed that the other side had lost interest, I tried to go back and change my answers to something more entertaining, but this was not allowed, and my first answer is sadly the only one that can be accepted.

It seems that, as with all matters of the heart, once I open my mouth, everyone loses interest, and I can't go back and change my answers. Even the cold, scientific, calculating computers of the Harris organisation did not consider my sex life to be a suitable candidate for further surveying.

Of course Harris has rejected me before, having decided that only having heard of Jean-Paul Gaultier and Yves-Saint Laurent rendered me too common to participate in a survey about Haute Couture. So I should be used to such a brush-off. Nonetheless, the realisation that even computers don't love me or find me very interesting is quite a blow. It is, at least, consistent with other people's real-life experience of me, but it's still not always a pleasure to have it confirmed. But I am taking it well.

Perhaps next week I will be invited to discuss my opinions on frozen meals for one. No, wait.. they did that a few weeks ago! Waaaah!