Raindrops On Roses And My Favourite Things

I used to love sleepovers. I still do actually. The mere word ‘sleepover’ immediately conjures up happy images of little girls in big flanel pajamas devouring blocks of chocolate, camping out in front of the loungeroom tv with a couple of movies and giggling about boys. All those comfortable things that bring a smile to the face. Add ten or fifteen years to that and not much has changed really except that my friends and I usually choose to add alcohol into the mix as well. The males of our aquaintance however, seem to have a somewhat different impression.

Apparently, we are all now expected to be both tipsy and tantalising as we trapse around in our trendy bras and knickers having pillow fights and pouting sessions over our partners (ok, I’ll stop the alliteration now). So sorry to burst your bubble boys but life is not like the playboy mansion. Although when confronted with this sad fact, my girlfriends and I were still not short of offers to ‘drop around’ from a handful of guys the other week. One of the more enterprising of the lads thought to offer some inducement for the suggestion and even offered parts of his body up for waxing (I guess this is another thing that women are supposed to want to do together in their free time).

The waxing idea actually had merit but then it would definitely not have been a ‘girly’ sleepover, which was after all the point of that particular weekend. My friends and I are all pretty honest and open but there are certain conversations we just don’t hold in front of guys. Actually, come to think of it, we probably do but it’s somehow different. With just girls, you know you’ve each got pretty much the same frame of reference (not to mention the same bodies - well compared to men at least) and there is a level of communication that requires no explanation. Besides, it’s the best way to learn the important things in life.

Some people claim they learnt everything they ever needed to know from Dolly Doctor and a handful of women’s mags ranging from Cleo and Cosmo to Cunningly-advertised-crap-in-the-supermarket-you-just-HAD-to-buy. I found however that a significant part of my education (and a few side-splitting laughs) came the females of my acquaintance and I wouldn’t have missed that for the world. I’m sure that some guys would give just about anything to be a fly on the wall during our ‘mother’s meetings’ but just as ‘what goes on in the locker room stays in the locker room’, I think its probably best to leave some mysteries.

Another One Bites The Dust

I was in two minds on whether or not to post the following. It actually originated as an email entitled Ramblings Of An Unoccupied Mind aka Some Mindless Drivel For You. In the end I figured I really had nothing better...
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Well. Another one bites the dust. Another perfectly good fantasy ruined. For weeks I've been indulging in the occasional daydream of running off into the sunset with one of the couriers who periodically comes into my work. I don't see him all that often but just enough to inspire a few sighs every now and then and that sort of self conscious 'not' looking at him. All while making sure that should he actually be looking at me, I am smiling and looking wildly desirable (or at least as close as I can get to that with my no doubt misguided notions of the world). Sometimes when he comes in, I do actually get to talk to him and do that very understated, casual type of flirting, that is probably really only considered 'flirting' cause we are actually around the same age. Its normally only a hi-how're you going-what's new kind of conversation but its enough to sustain the illusion that there must be some underlying substance to our 'relationship' that would blossom into...well something if only it were given half the chance.

But today, sadly, that chance was doomed to the wasteland of lost hopes and dreams. Today he happened to mention the dreaded 'g' word in very close proximity to (ie. next to) the word 'my'. The 'g' word of course being 'girlfriend'. So now I am bitterly disappointed and may well have to console myself with much hot chocolate. I mean, not only is this the loss of a good fantasy that I had been fostering for a while now, but where am I going to find another such likely candidate who will know my name and be happy to exchange 30 seconds of conversation every 30 days or so? Finding a man such as this is not as easy as it sounds my friends. Plus, if they are going to be daydream material, they also have to be attractive, intelligent (in an attractive type of way naturally) or incredibly wealthy (or all three of course). Not to mention taller. I am still quite comfortable in my hang ups about that one thankyou very much.

So yeah, in my distraught state, I was able to remember that a problem shared is a problem halved. Therefore I felt it was only right that I annoyed you all with it. And here I am. Aren't you glad? As you can see I still have a lot of time at work to be writing crap of the first caliber. I could be using this time to turn my energies towards finding solutions to my many problems but I thought I might need something to do tomorrow.

I hope you're having a pleasant day. Please disregard pretty much all of the above (the last sentence is probably ok though).

When I'm Sixty-Four

Now that Christmas is coming up, it is becoming painfully obvious that another year is almost over. A year where there has been new jobs and new people and of course, the ability to add another year to my age. What’s kind of depressing though, is to actually realise that I really am getting older (not to mention dumber – I had to stare at the number plate ‘QWIQ’ for at least 3 seconds this morning before I got it). I don’t think I am old though, not by a long shot, but I’m definitely older.

When I first started turning up places with boys, which could have really been as innocent as walking into a room with one, my peers used to ask if I liked them. Always eager to see love and romance everywhere they looked, even at a young age, this was the kind of question that came often and would have one dissolving into blushes or giggles, or perhaps righteous indignation depending on the boy in question.

A few years later and the reaction was probably not much different but the question had progressed to – is he your boyfriend? At this stage, the idea that you could be just friends with a guy was fairly novel. That is unless he already had a girlfriend, but then she would probably be there as well, attached to his hip (or lip, whichever was handier – as all good teenage couples seem to be). Even if the guy was your boyfriend though, you were primarily seen as single but choosing to spend your time romantically with another person.

After that you sort of get to the stage of seeing someone I guess. The ‘boyfriend’ idea is still around but somehow you know that in the space of a few years, the word has acquired a whole new set of connotations to go with it. This is where I thought I was at. I think I’m comfortable with this. It completely took me aback however when I was asked the other night if my ‘date’ was my husband. Since when have I been old enough to get married!?! That’s the thing though. I really am.

You know when you’re little and you plan your whole life out? Yes? No? Only I am that neurotic? Anyway, I always figured I’d get married and have kids. In that order. I was going to start the kids bit before I was 30 though, so let’s say at 29. Since being pregnant takes a big chunk of your year, that means get in the family way by 28. Ideally, I’d like some time just to be married first and save some money however, which means married at 27. You have to plan weddings though and spend time being engaged, not to mention falling in love with someone and deciding to marry which I figured would take at least a year, so that means 26. Hmm, somehow this isn’t quite as easy as it was when I was 13.

Now that I am older though, I think my expectations are a little more realistic. My life plan has definitely undergone some changes (and will continue to do so I’m sure for many years to come). I am not the same person I was then but I do sometimes wish I could grow younger for a while. At least until I’m ready to grow up.

Tis The Season

Children often believe what they are told and I must admit I was no exception. But just as this is extremely useful for things like Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy, there are some things that tend to stay with you a bit longer and are harder to get over. That’s why, despite the fact that I can now fit into a size of clothing I thought lost to me forever, I am still a ‘fat kid’ in my head. Someone people don’t choose to play with and someone picked last for sporting teams. The last part could also have had something to do with my sporting ability of lack thereof but we’ll just ignore that.

I was actually probably no more “fat” then than I am now but that’s neither here nor there when teasing is both frequent and hurtful. This is probably why I have a hard time accepting compliments graciously and why nights like last night still surprise me. I was out at my work Christmas party for most of the night, buoyed up with good food and free alcohol. The evening had started out at The Sheraton On The Park and then some of us progressed on to Arizonas. I was there till I got a call from my cousin after which I decided to try and meet up with her at The Rocks. So I made my goodbyes, assuring others that I would be perfectly alright walking down George Street by myself, and headed off.

I didn’t even get out of the building before I met a guy who wanted to know if I worked for the RTA. Apparently, with a body like mine, I had ‘fine’ written all over me. I must admit I was amused as my outfit was neither skimpy nor overly revealing but I had somewhere to go. The guy was very disappointed that I was leaving as he was arriving but since he couldn’t change my mind, he just smiled. He wasn’t the last.

Living in Sydney, you tend to ignore the jerks who yell stuff out their car windows so I won’t even mention them but my next encounter was with a guy who also wanted to ask me a question. Some random pulled me up and very politely asked if my boyfriend would mind if he told me I was beautiful. I told him seeing as I didn’t have one, probably not, then thanked him for saying so and moved on. I didn’t get far however before I ran into another guy who wanted to get to know me.

Before I quite realised it, I was shaking this guy’s hand. Hi, I’m Ben and you’re gorgeous – did I hear you say you don’t have a boyfriend?? Ben was actually quite cute but I was late and he was heading in the opposite direction. And I really didn’t go out to pick up. Just goes to show though that the silly season has definitely begun, things happen in threes and sometimes its good when kids grow up.

Boys Conference

When I was in high school, instead of a year 10 camp, we got Girls’ Conference and Boys’ Conference. Basically an excuse for them to split up the sexes and get candid about some of the things we should know in life. We all learnt about sex and drugs (and a little about rock n’ roll for good measure), the girls got deportment lessons and the boys…well, apparently they learnt how to pick up chicks. I have it on good authority that the school counsellor was a veritable fountain of information.

Amongst the gems he is said to have imparted, it was reported that he passed on some vital statistics. Nine times out of ten, if you approach a girl and ask her to sleep with you, she’ll knock you back (or slap your face), but that tenth time…Charming right? Whether or not this actually happened though, there are plenty of males out there offering advice on attracting, seducing and sleeping with women. I’m not sure whether this does more harm than good but I have to say, it can be educational.

One of the things I recently stumbled across was the ‘Oxytocin Response’. Oxytocin is a powerful sex hormone that facilitates the ability to bond with others and promotes a feeling of well-being. Induced largely by touch, it requires estrogen to work I think, but has the result of increasing a woman’s testosterone levels. This makes her much more susceptible to the power of touch than a man and also more inclined to participate in physical intimacy when she is touched. So I’m sure some ladies will be happy to know there is actually scientific evidence in favour of foreplay. The article glossed over this bit though.

I found this information in a short piece that also claimed that it was critically important to physically touch a woman early on in a seduction. The author then went on to explain how to use touch to ‘reliably get laid’. I can’t say I thought much of this but I suppose it’s no better (or no worse) than half of that crap you read in women’s magazines at the moment. I would say this though to any guys who would take it as gospel, if you touch a woman who consciously or even sub-consciously does not wish to be touched, you are more likely to inspire a reaction opposite to the one for which you’d hoped.

For all those who have ever been on the receiving end of the ‘instant ewwww’, a topic I might have to explore in a later post, you will know that it’s a very hard thing to get past. Changing anyone’s mind after they’ve made it up is not usually a trivial thing. On the other hand, if everything is going well, I’d have to say think for yourself and if it feels right, go with it.

A Degree Of Stability

Ladies, did you know, that you are more likely to get married or be part of a de-facto relationship if you have a degree? According to research, statistics apparently show that just under two decades ago, the least-educated women in our society were more destined for marriage. Today however, it’s the reverse. And apparently this data has troubling implications for the birth rate.

The number of marriages has a close correlation to the birth rate in this country. Recently though, the marriage rate has been dropping for women in their late 20’s/early 30’s and since the uneducated women out there are the ones having more children (especially when married) this is causing concern. Whether uneducated women have more time to devote to families if they have not chosen a profession or have more children for another reason, the percentage of married women aged 35-39 with at least one child under 14 has remained about the same for the past 15 years, so people have started asking why.

In addition to this, I also read that a demographer, Bob Birrell, believes social planners must address the decline in marriage if they are to reverse falling fertility rates. So what I now want to ask, is what does he propose they do about it. Maybe there could be something in it for us. I mean, to help boost the property market we now have the first home-buyers incentive and to encourage all those would-be mums out there, they have introduced the baby bonus. If they want to increase the marriage rate maybe they should create a wedding grant. Even if they didn’t go as far as throwing money at you, they could always sponsor matchmaking companies or something else useful. Don't you think?

But don’t be surprised if that doesn’t happen at all. And also don’t despair if you don’t have that piece of paper with fancy letters on it. Despite the trend towards the settling down by degrees, there is still a very large percentage of women without them who are finding love in life and hey, even if it takes some of us a little longer than others, the journey is worth it right?

Picky And Proud

Well, on the basis of everything posted here so far, I am apparently too picky. I was told this the other day and at first I was like no way! I don’t choose guys on the basis of their chequebooks, I don’t specifically go after models or white-collar workers with degrees (or whatever it is the modern working girl is supposed to want) and I don’t have a ridiculous strike list. I do actually know people who swear by the whole ‘one strike and you’re out’ mentality and include things like ‘if he so much as speaks to his ex-girlfriend I’ll dump him’ on their list, but I’m not one of them. So how could I be picky? And then I got to thinking…

I’m looking for someone who balances me. Which seems quite fitting somehow as I’m a Libran and my symbol is the scales. But just like the scales of justice, to maintain perfect balance, what is on one side must be matched exactly on the other. Is it so wrong to want that? Or to want something remotely close to that? If so, tough. And if that makes me picky, so be it. I used to feel peer pressure to do what others thought I should but I’ve tried to outgrow that. To date, there are still things that no one has been able to convince me to compromise on and I’m not so sure that one could either.

So what are these things? Well some aren’t that easy to immediately put into words. You could say however, that the appearance of abject idolisation is a pretty major turn off. Let me say this now - I am not perfect. Sometimes I am not even nice. On the basis of an hours conversation, if you claim to know exactly who I am and believe that I am wonderful and without fault, I will think you are an idiot.

Another thing that is somewhat wearing is someone after constant reassurance. Did I really impress you the first time you met me? What do you most like about me? Do you think about me? What made you pick me? Individually, these questions are not so bad. Coming one after the other, right after meeting someone, they were quite bad. I think if I can refrain from asking if my butt looks big then other people should be able to keep any raging insecurities in check. Besides, if anyone gets to be the neurotic one in the relationship, I think it should be me.

Everyone has likes and dislikes. We also have preferences. When you’re single however, that’s what people focus on. Your so-called ideal may be nothing like who you actually end up with but that hardly seems the point. You’re said to be picky not so much by what you do but more by the nature of what you think. Apparently I qualify but you know what…after considering all the opportunities I’ve ‘missed’, I can’t really say I’m sorry.

JBY Will Leave You DOA

There are copious amounts of dating tips and advice columns out there and almost all of them seem to preach the Just Be Yourself model for establishing relationships. Whether you’re trying to meet someone or date someone, if you can Just Be Yourself then everything else will fall into place. Well, today I found an article that said this is about the worst thing you could possibly do. The weird part is that some of it made sense.

Now this article was primarily written for guys, by a guy. It referred to the JBY method as utterly ridiculous, potentially damaging and lazy, and claimed that being a Don Juan was not about being yourself but rather about becoming the person that you want to be. It also suggested that the main problem with the JBY approach was that it gave people an excuse to both do nothing and change nothing. And to a certain extent, the author had a point.

Most of us understand that relationships take effort and compromise, yet we still behave as ourselves, in all our unvarnished glory, and wonder sometimes why it doesn’t work out. Now the author wasn’t claiming that you should try to be someone you’re not but that you should put a concerted effort into the image you present to others. Women he asserted, know how to play the game well, having constantly researched, studied and practiced since they were old enough to read. That’s why they control most of their relationships. That’s what has to change.

The article didn’t quite put it like that actually but it did seem to be the underlying message. The author appeared to feel that too many guys were making complete fools of themselves and it was time for all the Non Juans out there to become Don Juans. He then used the analogy of Michael Jordan who became one of the greatest basketball players in history through much practice and self-improvement. Not by merely being himself.

Whilst I found the tone of the article somewhat offensive at times (probably much like what some males feel about how I write I guess), I could see where he was coming from. I think he made a lot of sweeping generalisations as I can vouch for having the same issues with confidence, confusion and conversational strategies that males do but I too would support people putting their best foot forward instead of the warts and all approach. And if that means you don’t JUST be yourself, then maybe it could be a good thing.

Hit And Miss

There is a distinct art to the pickup, which some people seem to have and others definitely don’t. Or maybe it really depends on the night and the person. Whichever theory you hold, I’d have to say that a rather dismal attempt at hitting on me was made the other night by an Irish backpacker.

I decided to get a head start on my weekend by going out and getting rather inebriated on a Tuesday night. It was excellent. I spent most of the evening at Scruffy Murphy’s, which is close enough to Chinatown and the city youth hostels that it has now become a sort of Mecca for the young, single, stupid and alcoholic. Towards the end of the evening though, I was at the bar by myself and well, I ended up leaving the bar by myself too.

Whilst at the bar, I was approached by this guy who started to dance to me. He wasn’t really dancing ‘for’ me or ‘with’ me but it was that single version of the bump and grind, which seems to replace conversation in certain situations and becomes a substitute for talking ‘to’ someone. I was in a good mood and so I made an appropriate response by doing a bit of dancing and smiling back. I then figured the ball was in his court and I wanted to see where he was going to go with it. I guess he dropped it.

Now I’m sure there are plenty of possibilities at this point but a really basic one would have been to make an introduction in order to start a conversation (either that or actually get me on the dance floor which didn’t happen either). From what I can remember, I think we established that I lived in Sydney and he was Irish. And that was it. At this point he didn’t seem interested in either dancing or talking so I left. I was slightly puzzled though.

Was he expecting me to completely slap him down and so hadn’t really thought about what to do if I didn’t? Did he actually decide, rather quickly, that he wasn’t quite as interested as he’d first thought? Was he totally plastered and not at all sure what he was doing? Or was he merely waiting for me? And if so, what did he really expect me to do? Grab his collar and get him lip-locked in under thirty seconds? Sorry Bucko, definitely not my style.

In the end I guess it was a case of no harm, no foul. As an unsuccessful attempt, the whole thing could also be passed of as just a little harmless flirting. It was an amusing diversion and then I went my way and he went his. I can only hope however, that his next attempt achieves more success.

Dressed For Success

I think it is safe to say that most women dress for other women. That doesn’t mean that they are interested in them but rather that they would always like to appear better than them. Other women that is. A rather strange concept in a way as the motivation for looking better than anyone else is to make yourself more sought after by the opposite sex. But some females out there don’t seem to realise that in the eyes of guys, there are chicks you perv at and chicks you date. And just because you’re the former does not mean you’ll be the latter.

Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking as I refuse to flit around in cheek-riding skirts and boob tubes that require maintenance every twenty seconds and completely prohibit any energetic movement whatsoever. Ok, so I may not exactly have the legs for cheek-riding skirts and my bust wouldn’t hold up a whole hell of a lot by itself, but even if I was Barbie on Berocca I would definitely be thinking twice about some of the fashion fads out there.

Girls, just because Jlo wears something, doesn’t mean you should. And what looks quite nice in a photograph, or on a mannequin is not necessarily going to flatter you when you have to stand up and sit down in it. It amazes me sometimes that people with good figures will manage to find clothes that accentuate their worst features. And what is it with all these tops that seem to require you to wear no underwear whatsoever!?! I’m sure its not healthy. Although maybe I should be happy that by the time I’m forty, some of my peers will be a lot less perky!

Seriously though, I don’t see the attraction. I’m assuming its to do with the if-you’ve-got-it-flaunt-it principle but I’ve always felt that the power of subtle suggestion is way underrated. Besides, what’s the point of having sexy lingerie if you don’t get a chance to wear it out? Now it seems you either go au natural, feel self conscious and uncomfortable the whole night (but know that you can go from decent to naked in three seconds flat should the situation call for it) or you wear one of those stick on bras (which don’t go on so well after they’ve already come off and are, lets face it, quite unattractive to look at). Either way, the choice isn’t great.

So unfortunately at the moment, clothes shopping reminds me of the phrase small choice in rotten apples. There are some great things out there if you’re prepared to dish out the dosh or hunt down a bargain but not all of us are. I guess I’ll just have to learn to live with last season’s collection and hope I don’t sink into a depression. It shouldn’t be that bad though, at least I’ll be comfortable.

RIP RSVP

In my bid to ‘put myself out there’ as so many well meaning marrieds (and practically marrieds) tell me I ought to do, I put a profile on RSVP. For all those who are not desperate and dateless – or not technologically capable – this is an internet dating website connecting singles all over Australia. After my somewhat brief foray into the cyber circuit however, I have decided that it really wasn’t for me and am now no longer a member.

Although it wasn’t exactly a success, it was definitely interesting. I attracted my fair share of interest which was quite flattering. The 43 year old men with kids and a few of the 18 year old boys were not really my cup of tea but still, I did meet a few people and I had a laugh. You kind of had to really. It’s next to impossible to take a couple of those profiles seriously. As a heterosexual female I could only look through so many profiles of 'ex-models' (complete with pictures of them sprawled over something) just wanting to meet a 'nice girl' whilst using the handle 'ImYourWildestDreams' - or something equally as nauseating.

It wasn’t all like that though. Most people did seem really down to earth and genuine and just wanted to give the whole internet thing a go. Some of the profiles were quite amusing and actually made you laugh whereas others…lacked imagination really. I swear, it was almost as though a few of them had ticked a box to write their profile. Maybe there’s a template floating around the net somewhere. “Hi, my name is [insert name here]. I am a fun-loving, down to earth guy. I listen to all types of music, I like sport and I love getting to know new people. I enjoy movies and I’ll even watch chick flicks (don’t tell the boys). I’d love to just curl up on the couch with that special someone. If that’s you, please email me”.

Not that my profile was anything great though. Even if it did take me ages to write. I can attest that it’s actually not as easy as it looks. Most people first enter the RSVP site as a guest and have a look around. You see a few profiles that maybe spark your interest and you think, hey, I could give that a go but when it comes to writing something to represent you, it can be a little hard. After reading a few of the female profiles to get a feel for what others were putting up, I decided I wanted the honest approach. The first thing that actually ran through my mind though was to say that as a female I can be bitchy, manipulative, moody, cynical, immature, annoying and petty - not to mention sarcastic. But I didn't think that was really appropriate. I went with something a little more traditional and hopefully not too clichéd in the end.

So if you’ve ever been curious, I urge you to give it a look and even give it a try. You may just find yourself being ‘kissed’ by all sorts of people…

Calling All Singles

There are just not enough single guys out there. Or so I’ve heard. Well, I actually beg to differ ladies. There is currently plenty. Or so I’ve read.

Apparently, according to recent studies, both men and women are now marrying later in life and there is even a surplus of single guys in the 25-34 age group. Currently the stats run at about 1.3 to 1 in Australia, which would tend to suggest that meeting someone shouldn’t be that hard. And I’m sure you’ll all be pleased to know that I currently work in the real bachelor hotspot of Sydney, Pyrmont, where the figures are closer to 1.8 to 1. Fat lot of good it’s done me so far though.

So what’s going on? Why is it that so many of us find the search so difficult? Is there any one particular reason or are there a number of them?

Well, some would suggest that over the past decade, choice has given us a lot to answer for and coupled with the idea that the grass is always greener on the other side, searching for a true mate is apparently now anything but easy. We look to those around us when we are in search of a partner but given the relative ease of travel and the availability of the internet, it’s just as easy to hook up with someone on the other side of the world as it is to fall for the boy next door. But say you do hook up. Then what?

So many of those who are already in a relationship, still seem to have one eye on the market. Just in case something better comes along. And those who are still looking and have yet to find, may not in the end as they hold out for an ideal that is perhaps unreasonable. Everywhere we turn, the media is selling us the idea that we should either be part of a couple or looking for love. At the same time, it also seems to promise that you can have whatever you want on a plate if you go after it. Unfortunately, life’s not really like that.

In a 2002 survey, one third of the women polled would decide whether they wanted to see the man again in the first 10 minutes. That’s pretty tough odds when you think about it so maybe the next time you find yourself on a first date, you should try to decide whats really important and whats merely preferred. After all, you first need the base before you can add the icing on top and if you give someone a chance you may be able to have your cake and eat it too.

It's All In The Cards

I guess most people would say it serves me right for looking up internet tarot websites during working hours but even so…did the answers have to be so depressing? All three times?? Seeing as I’m a little occupationally challenged at work at the moment, I have been trying to fill in my days and ended up on a tarot website. Here, you entered your name, your question, chose your tarot deck and also chose how it was dealt.

I actually ended up using two different decks. I’m not sure what difference this is supposed to make - cause apparently it didn’t make any. I also managed to do one without a name so the reading was for ‘anonymous’. Everything else was the same though. The question, will I meet my perfect match this year (a predictable but important question I felt) and the reading layout, the relationship.

Ok. So its kind of tacky and it's pointless to take it seriously but after I clicked the free reading button for the first time, I went back and did it again cause I didn’t like the answer. The others merely appeared to be variations on a theme. Apparently I think of myself in quite a flattering light. Strong, loyal, caring etc. but the way my partner sees me and the way they think of me were not exactly what you’d call positive.

I know I don’t actually have a perfect match / partner / boyfriend / whatever at the moment but given that in any relationship, how your other half sees you is somewhat important it was hardly encouraging. Apparently I am conceited, jealous, pessimistic, prone to deceit, domineering, inclined to be callous and any number of other unattractive traits. I am not taking this all word for word by the way but you get the drift. I think I’m great and everyone else thinks I’m a heartless bitch.

So it appears I need to work on a few things. Either that or I need to get a life and not pay attention to internet websites laying claim to divination abilities. I mean, common sense tells you that it’s all a load of bollocks. Even if you do believe in the mystic, you’d know that a tarot reading was pretty worthless if you’d never even touched the deck. That being the case, I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere for my answers. Anyone got one of those decision dice…?

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Hmm…so they say. But on the flipside, expressing your wish to break off contact with someone is actually not at all difficult. Getting through a break-up can sometimes be tough but starting it off, is scarily easy. If you have been going out with someone for any length of time you say ‘its not you, its me’, also known as ‘it is you but I’m trying to be nice here’ (I experienced this courtesy of Rob-the-knob) and if you don’t want to start seeing someone, you say ‘I’m not trying to be evasive but…’.

Seriously. Its like it’s the new black or something. I have had two people give me the brush off with this line. First there was Russell-the-bastard whom those of you who know me may have already heard about and more recently, Kit-the-git. The reasons are always different - travel overseas, business interstate, a wedding to attend (actually both used this excuse), training to do - but the line remains the same. I must admit that when I heard it the second time around, I was on alert but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. This was apparently a waste of my time.

‘Kit’ and I had been emailing for a while and had decided that we should hook up. After the emails kinda slowed down though, we actually had to arrange to meet. After being put on hold with ‘the line’, I decided I wasn’t going to just wait for the guy to call and so I asked if he still wanted to meet - whilst making it clear I’d not be offended if he said ‘no’ I might add. The whole thing then turned into a very half-arsed affair leaving little doubt that we were going to go nowhere fast. And I mean that literally as well as figuratively.

In the typical ‘no commitment’ style of today’s singles, we didn’t arrange to meet at a time and place but rather I was to give him a call when I was free on the Saturday. This then went through to voicemail, which may have been legit but after recently experiencing Chad-the-cad’s need to screen all phone calls, I was a little skeptical. So anyway, he called me back an hour later to ask what I was up to. After I mentioned that I was around and didn’t have a car (apparently a mark against me), he came to meet me at the shops. Then after meeting, we made it all of a hundred meters - to Gloria Jeans.

Now maybe its me, but there’s just something about getting to know someone in a mall that’s tacky. It was fine when I was a teenager but a decade or so later, I feel I should have graduated to cafes or bars or…well anything’s better than the mall really. But that’s where we were while we had a drink and a bit of a chat about work, siblings, the races, where we lived and dating fads. I believe I racked up another mark against me when I said I couldn’t afford to live on my own and I assume there were a number of others because after we’d finished our beverages he told me he was sorry to cut it short but he had to run. I chose to read that as ‘escape’. And then he was gone.

I kinda knew it was coming so I guess it wasn’t really a surprise. At least there was some kind of warm up to it. An expression that even though he wasn’t big enough to tell me he wasn’t interested, he also didn’t want to hurt my feelings by having me hang on while he was oh so busy. Unlike the derivative of ‘the line’, which is to completely ignore the other person by being otherwise occupied, in the hope that they’ll go away. I have also recently experienced this myself and seen my sister go though it with Jez-the-pez and I have to say, it really pisses me off!

Super Speed!

Well at first, there was the Speed Dating phenomenon. Developed by a Rabbi as a means of introducing young Jews to each other, this soon became a craze that crossed continents. With ‘dates’ ranging from what seems to be about two to ten minutes and numbers of suitors from only a couple to nearer a hundred, there has now been another new development. You can also do Super Speed Dating!

I’m not sure that its actually called this but apparently the initial idea of the speed date has been such a hit in Australia that companies have now started to organise specialised events. For all the wine buffs out there, you can do what we’ll call Tasting Tours (double entendre NOT intended) where you get do the dates by playing musical chairs on a bus. In the middle of which (or after - I’m not quite sure how it works) you can cruise whilst in your cups and mingle to your hearts content. You are of course practically sequestered away with these people for a whole day but alcohol heals all wounds (or makes you forget about them) so its all good.

For those of you who believe however that your body is truly a temple, there is an option for the Fighting Fit. Geared at bringing together people who have a real passion for fitness and health from the gym junkies and yoga masters to those insane people who actually enjoy running. So if you happen to be trim, toned and terrific (or are trying to be), this may be the way to go for you. If you’re fighting fit but a not a fitness freak though, maybe salsa dancing is more your style.

I found out about this one the other night. Yes people, there is now Salsa Speed. You apparently get an hour-long class to show you some moves and then you settle down to a little intermission chit-chat before you burn the floor. Or something like that. This option also provides the chance to legitimately get your hands all over someone, which could be seen as either a good thing or a very bad thing. Definitely on the plus side though, it does make it much easier to see if the dates are a good height and possessing of a rhythm that will match yours.

But not everyone is into alcohol and physically getting out and shaking it. Some of us don’t have the inclination and consider ourselves to be of a more artistic bent. These people are accommodated by the Art Of Speed where you might run into a writer or perhaps a musician. Someone creative who likes to express themselves and inspire others. And for all those people who would be out at the pub every weekend, working off a sweat in their spare moments or creating to their hearts content if it weren’t for the kids - don’t despair, there’s also Parent Speed!

So in the end, there’s really no excuse for saying that the speed dating craze does not cater for your type of person (even if you’re gay). I recommend that you get out and give it a go. If nothing else it’ll be a laugh.

What Women Do...

There are many women out there who claim to want the perfect gentleman. They’re sick of guys who are just trying to get into their pants and now only want to be ‘treated right’ by their companions. So the modern guy still needs to ring the doorbell, bring flowers, open the car door, allow you to enter through a doorway first, hold your chair out, compliment you and perhaps buy you dinner. The question I would like to pose, is what is it that we do in return? Let them?

I suppose there is a very obvious answer as to what might be expected but before people start jumping up and down to assert that not everyone expects it or that in fact it should never be expected, let me say this, I know. And I agree. But let me also suggest this if I may, if intimacy can be enjoyed by women as well as men, should it not be viewed as an advantage to both which then still leaves the question – if men are expected to make gestures of courtship, what is it that women do?

Traditionally, these gestures such as opening car doors and allowing you to enter somewhere ahead of your partner were merely considered to be polite social behaviour. It was not something men did for their partners alone but rather for all women, of any age. As women have become more independent however, and feminism more rampant, these expectations have become somewhat more relaxed leaving many confused and / or a little disappointed. By today’s standards, the gentleman of our grandparent’s generation is no longer your Average Joe and what’s more, he requires a conscious effort.

There are any number of things a guy can do to let his date know he is making an effort. I must admit, I was somewhat charmed when I was asked once what colour dress I was wearing so that my partner could match his tie. When pressed to think of the gestures I do or could make to a partner though, I came up a little short. I don’t mean to say that I make no effort in relationships or that I’d treat a boyfriend just as I would a sibling or a mate. I do give gifts and massages and cook special meals but what are the other little gestures that you do just to show that you care?

Then again, according to my friend, maybe now its all just a tradeoff for childbirth. If so, we seemed to get the raw deal on that one.