Just put it away…

9 Jun

Once upon a time technology was hard… to send a photo to someone you had to go down to the local service station to pick up a roll of film, struggle trying to get the little lid of the canister and working out which way it spooled. Once you’d taken a photo you then had to wait until you’d finished all the exposures on the camera and then diligently take it to your local discount department store where a spotty 16 year old would charge you a small fortune to develop images that were mostly either blurry or contained some part of the thumb you’d strategically placed over the corner of your lens.

I miss those days…

I miss the days, that when opening my email, the scariest thing I was going to come across was Asciimotion Starwars which both conclusively proved that there are a) some people with too much time on their hands b) why your average pre-dotcom boom geek never got laid.

I miss the days when text messages contained text, that was mostly “Could you make sure you pick up some milk on the way home” or the occasionally cheeky “What are you wearing”.

These days every alert beep from my phone or email client brings about a certain trepidation of the unknown. I cautiously open each picture message knowing that while a cute little photo of whatever my sister’s dog is wearing today is possible, it’s also just as likely to be a half naked man (and more than likely I barely know) that believes I can’t possibly get through the day without knowing how his genitalia looks in certain light.

I’m visually assaulted by my inbox at least once a week and I can assure you there are few things that have made me gasp like discovering a man I actually went to high school with slightly more than a decade ago had a freckle on the left side – which was possibly more information than I ever cared to know about the man.

Here’s a thought guys… if we want to know more information about your penis – we might just ask but if we do ask try to take the photo without the contents of your filthy bathroom on display.

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Misadventures and Mr Music

12 May

I’m learning a lot about the whole dating experience through dating in a manner one can only describe as excessive. It’s been a whole lot of fun generally but then there are nights which just don’t go the way you would like.

The date with the Music Man might just be one of those.

After forgiving me for standing him up we arranged to meet up for a date at the comedy festival.

Being the weekend that Melbourne was chock full of events and people going to those events, I possibly didn’t calculate my travel times particularly well and found myself running very close to being late. So after making a quick call to assure him I wasn’t going to stand him up again, I pulled my car into the closest car park to out meeting place and didn’t give it another thought…

This fateful decision was to be my downfall.

We met up outside the Town Hall where I thought we would choose a show together, he’d gone and got tickets to a show online and it just happened to be completely on the other side of the city. I admired the level of organisation and didn’t complain that I’d just spent an hour trying to get pretty much from that location and I was not wearing the most comfortable shoes to trek across the city.

The show finished and I was promptly informed he had already got tickets to see another show and off we set grabbing dinner in a little chinese restaurant on the way. He was a lovely guy but I’d pretty much concluded by the end of dinner that while we have a common love of music there just might not be much more than that and I might just be a little too “much” for him.

The second comedy show was a triple bill of American comedians was exceptionally funny – so much so that I didn’t even think to look at my watch… Although this probably wouldn’t have changed the outcome for the evening since I hadn’t thought about the closing time of a carpark in the Melbourne CBD.

I was already thinking that I’d had a very lovely evening, but that I just wasn’t interested in pursuing anything further, when we turned the corner of the street where the carpark was and I was greeted to a dark building and a rather large heavy roller door firmly shut. There was no after hours number, there was no normal hours number, there was noone to talk to and noone to beg to let my car out (believe my a tried every directory service I could think of to find a contact number of the carpark operators).

So here I was… more than an hour’s drive away from my home and noone to call. If I caught a taxi home I wouldn’t have any way to get to work the next morning, if I rang someone to rescue me I’d probably be waiting in the city on my own for a couple of hours in the rain (since then many other options have come to mind)… but when I was offered a place to crash I reluctantly took up the offer.

So I arrive at a 30+ year olds man’s apartment to find a single bed… to his credit he was the perfect gentleman (but really what kind of 30 year old man has a single bed!?!) and stayed fully clothed for the night, but I don’t think I got an ounce of sleep. Everytime I turned over I was worried I was going to smack him in the face, every time he turned I was concerned I’d woken him up. It was freezing cold out of the covers but between the two of us there wasn’t many covers to have.

I’ve never been so glad in my life when someone I was sharing a bed with had to get up at 4am to go to work. Daylight hit and dressed in the outfit that was entirely appropriate for a night of bars and festivals (and not so much for the office) and I went to pick up my car… the carpark operator commenting on it being a smart idea not to drink and drive was doubled over in fits of laughter when I told him I hadn’t had a single drink and I’d ended up staying in what was essentially a near stranger’s bed because I’d been too preoccupied with not being late to check closing times on the carpark.

He felt so sorry for me… he didn’t charge me

He was taken by ninjas…

27 Mar

I’m generally not a clingy girl, I don’t sit by the phone and wait for a man to call, I don’t eat a tub of icecream while watching Bridget Jone’s Diary and wishing all men could be like Collin Firth because really he just doesn’t do it for me.

I’m very happy to declare that it didn’t work out and it’s no one’s fault, and while that realisation might sting just a little it’s something I can live with. It’s something I have to live with because they must be dead…

Yes. Dead.

In fact they were kidnapped by Ninjas and slaughtered brutally and that is why they were unable to pick up the phone, scroll down to where my name is stored and call me to set up that fantastic date they had planned where we do that amazing activity, followed by dinner in the perfect setting where the lighting makes me look fantastic and followed by a walk along the beach with the wind in my hair.

See, there is absolutely no reason for me to even attempt to call them to make sure they’re ok… Ninjas are pretty good about the killing they do and it’s not even a question of them being just slightly maimed and needing my help.

So when a man doesn’t make a call… just remember Ninjas are out there.

Please note: In the last couple of months I’ve also heard stories of brutal battles involving Pirates which several women have attributed to the disappearance of men in their lives.

Occasional tin foil hat wearer

23 Mar

Someone’s tin hat wearer is another’s knight in shining armor… I guess I’ve just become a tin hat wearer to someone.

I’ve been burning the candle at both ends while simultaneously trying to keep all the balls I’m juggling in the air, letting one drop was bound to happen eventually. The dating game has seen me out every night for the last 2 months (I’ve only been writing about the interesting ones, and even some of those I’ve yet to get around to). The nights I’m not working my second job, I find myself in a bar, or a restaurant and even the movies making small talk to someone I met in a supermarket, in a bar, on the way home, online or in any of the other multitude of ways the universe is pushing men at me.

I stood someone up!

I didn’t mean to do it, I’m not sure we even had confirmed plans because I certainly can’t find any record of anything past a “maybe we should meet on Tuesday”. But here a man was, sitting waiting for me. I’m hoping it was somewhere nice, where the coffee/drinks were good because I certainly have no idea where I was supposed to have been meeting him.

I guess the point to this post is that not everyone can be a knight in shining armor all of the time. Situations and context make a world of difference… and when in doubt Karma will get you in the end.

To the man I stood up – I’m terribly sorry…

He never actually showed up

20 Mar

Over the last few years Internet dating really seems to have taken off and it seems that almost everybody is doing it to some level.  It has moved from being the bastion of freaks and losers to a really good alternative to trying to meet someone in a bar.  Unfortunately the freaks and losers haven’t moved on, so every now and then you come across one of the “special” creatures.

He never actually showed up…

I’d had a rather action packed afternoon full of my usual Sunday commitments and possibly would have liked more to go home, run a long hot bath, pull on a pair of PJs and watch some truly trashy TV.  Instead I pulled on a pair of dressy jeans and threw on a top that has the right amount of cleavage emphasis without looking looking like Bryn Edelsteine and my favourite pair of heels and headed to the agreed location.

I received the following text messages;

“Be there in a sec.  Where are you inside?”

followed 20 minutes later by

“I’m sorry, I just can’t do this.  Too weird.  You deserve better and so sorry to waste your time”

I’m not sure what one can even say in response to that.

The women are buried in the backyard

13 Mar

I could be proven wrong… but I’m really not willing to find out.

In the dating game, I’ve discovered there are a few delightful creatures who make it very clear within a few hours why they’re still single. Mr Thinly Veiled Anger was one such creature who didn’t need hours, minutes was all he needed to show me a fairly nice but very wounded creature with a bitter streak than ran very deep.

Apparently he had missed the “If you ask me out – you come up with the plan” memo, and asked me to come up with a location, time, plan etc…  It wasn’t off to a great start, but we settled on a bite to eat on Victoria Street but without an actual plan we were to meet out the front of a well known supermarket on the strip.  We ended up at a popular upstairs dive, that is fun with a group of friends for a cheap meal before a movie, but is not what anyone would describe as date friendly.

The restaurant exists in a world of cheap student eating options, with it’s school tables and faded christmas decorations a thin layer of greasy dirt across it’s candy pink walls, unflattering fluorescent lights and floral plastic plates, it’s an old friend to those that like their restaurants loud and high school canteen like.  It’s not the sort of place where you get to know anyone particularly well, the pushy waiters with great skill at frisbeeing your food at your table will see to that within minutes of feeding and pushing you out the door as quickly as possible.

There was just something about him that unnerved me from the moment we sat down.  It was like he was expecting it to all go pear shaped very quickly and that there was something wrong with all women.  Within minutes of meeting up that night it became fairly easy to tell that there was a nasty breakup in there somewhere and he was just a very angry little man under a very thin facade of “nice guy”.

The warning signs were flashing brightly when he mentioned he lived with his parents. Now there is nothing wrong with this at all – I spent a year with my parents while I was building a house and it was one of the best things I have done in a number of years.  But the reason why it was good, was there was a clear end date.

I moved in with them again after 12 years of living away from the family home to save some money while I was building a house, it was always understood that the house would take so many weeks to start and so many weeks to finish.  My Thinly Veiled Anger on the other hand was 40 something and had been living with his parents since a relationship split several years ago… and several years having past, still didn’t have a plan to move anywhere – cue anger/rant point number one and two;  The expense of purchasing or renting property and the expense of a break up.

The thing that made the sirens sound however was his reaction to the word lawyer (anger point number 3);  a rant about how hideous and vile the family court system was spewed forth and no amount of placation or trying to change the subject to something more civilised was going to get him off his course of hatred for things to do with the legal system.  It seemed it had all come down to some nasty dealings with the family law court and something about lawyers promising the world but when it came down to it asking him to settle.

There was certainly an air of “I have women buried in my backyard because I’m angry at the world it’s all their fault” – we left dinner and walked to our respective cars and happily I left it at that.

Tin Foil Beanie Candidate

A man with a mission

10 Mar

He approached dating with the kind of efficiency you’d expect in a job interview…

He was certainly a man with a mission, although that wasn’t immediately obvious. On reflection, all the signs were there; it should have been very clear from the start, but the confidence and the clarity of intention was seductive.

I hate to be asked out and then expected to make the plans, the-man-with-a-mission played the dating game perfectly. It started with a plan to meet for drinks, our conversation flowed for hours and drinks quickly became dinner the conversation flowed even further. Before we knew it staff were placing chairs on the table, he walked me to my car and there was a goodnight kiss…

He played the dating game perfectly, from the well timed follow up text to say he’d had a great night and would call me later in the week to the part where he actually called me (when he said he would) to set up another date. I was simultaneous shocked and stunned – from all reports a date that does what they say they will do, when they say they will do it is a rare commodity.

A second date was planned, meeting at a bar for drinks and then to a fantastic little restaurant he knew. After a very laughable mixup with a bar tab that was surprisingly cheap and a bar that had no idea what they’d done with my credit card (I’m like to at least contribute to a date) or how to process it when it barely came to a 10th of their minimum. We talked about life and what we were looking for out of it and once again the conversation flowed effortlessly. There were some rather quirky lines of conversation lead into about my views on work/life balance (I appreciate the concept, but have absolutely no idea how to put it into practice), women that tie themselves in knots trying to have it all (I don’t tie myself in knots – I will work out the parts of life I really want and if they don’t happen find new goals to work for) and marriage (love the concept of marriage, get twitchy at the concept of weddings). Rather unusual conversation for what was essentially a second date – but as the conversation was so easy I never thought anything further of it.

A third date to the movies was then planned. We met for drinks and a movie – once again the conversation flowed like we had been friends for years. The movie was excellent – and then the kicker came.

He walked me to my car, and instead of the goodnight kiss I was expecting came the following brutal assault;

“I’m just going to come out with this… kinda like ripping off a bandaid. I think you’re fantastic but I have a sneaking suspicion we just don’t have enough chemistry, I’d love to hang out with you sometime but I just don’t want to pursue this any further… what do you think”

What do I think?!?

Well I instantly felt like I had been kicked in the stomach and there were all manner of things running through my head but the only thing I could take from thought to actual vocalisation, before I made a hasty getaway in my girly little car was the following gem of articulate.

“ummm… thanks for the honesty… I guess”

While it was completely true and there is something to be said for a man with that level of both honesty and self awareness. It was certainly not the finest moment of a girl who prides herself on a sharp tongue and an even sharper wit. These thoughts bounced around inside my head for a few days before snowballing into one of the most embarrassing phone calls I’ve ever made – I’d write them, but my psyche has blocked them deliberately so it doesn’t melt down from the sheer level of pathetic that was displayed.

It’s certainly the first example of end of date dumping that I’ve ever heard of… anyone else got one?