Indecisive? Who me?

This week thus far, I’ve managed to keep it date free. And I can’t even begin to tell you how relieved I am. There’s a whole other energy that goes into organising and running a “successful” dating life, and I just don’t think I have it!

Sunday I met someone in the afternoon. Neither of us were up to it – and we were really quite half-assed about it. We’d spent the preceeding 3 nights on the phone talking to one another for hours on end. And I did want to meet him, it’s just that he spent the afternoon repeating the things he’d already told me, and I was so hung over and tired I could barely respond. So where to with that one? Who knows?

I’m finding that I have absolutely no sense of judgement about whether a man genuinely likes me and wants to see me again, or whether he’s using that as his escape line. Two weeks ago I actually went onto a site I left long neglected in order to delete my profile. To my surprise, the Ad Man had sent me a message which was engaging and not a little cheeky. As was his priofile. I’m not much one for spontenaeity – I really had surprises. But having exchanged messages, numbers and then texts, when he told me he had a spare ticket to the Spigeltent for the following afternoon, I accepted. I’m very glad I did – had a delightful time and we arranged to meet up the following afternoon. When I left his apartment  (an enormous converted warehouse arrangement) he asked me to text him the next day – actually we exchanged amusing texts on my way home and he did respond the next day and the next when I let him know that a friend had called to ask me who he was as she spotted us on Gertrude St on the Sunday. All good.But then silence. And more silence. And just when I had given up completely he texts and rings me. And wants to see me.

Likewise the Chemical Engineer I went out with a few weeks ago – we parted and I didn’t think there would be any more contact, but last night he did call and wants to see me next week. And the sportsman – persistent if a little abrupt but I know I can’t be bothered with someone so self absorbed they can’t articulate even a little.

So, I’ve made dates with all of them. And perhaps that’s what they do – and it’s why I can go two weeks without hearing from one or the other and another before we can meet, because I am busy and have a life. As they do. When I muttered that I didn’t think I’d hear from the Ad Man again, I was admonished with the facts, - that he’s single, busy, has a wide range of interests and wouldn’t bother me too much – perfect! I’m unable to tolerate dominant or pushy, demanding men, likewise disinterested one’s who leave me to do all the contacting, but they are the ones  I tend to fall for. Does that make me indecisive? Confused? Or that I just don’t know what I want? I happily confessed to the Ad Man during our first date that I had no idea what I wanted – and he thought that was just fine.

My Way

Last night was one of those that gets all weird and introspective. For me, the lyrics to Frank Sinatra;s "My Way" resonate here. It's how I do and try to live my life. But sometimes it feels as though someone, or something has other ideas...

Last night involved discussion of missed opportunities, lost friendships and lost friends.and it led me to reflect on why certain people meet, and at what time or stage in their lives they meet. One of the most special people I'm eternally grateful to have had in my life is a guy I met during First year of my undergraduate degree. My lively, friendly (gorgeous) and vivacious friend I met during O week turned up one lunch time with him in tow. I confess to an enormous crush. Huge. We had classes together, but as it transpired, we spent most of out week together, and with others at the pub, sitting in the beer garden with the chickens scratching around our feet..This went on all year. Often just the two of us in the winter months. Fast forward  - I had taken the next year off, and all kinds of friendships and structures changed. We met up again unexpectedly in another class together.Again back to hanging out, but the dynamics of me being in a relationship and all the other pressures of work, study etc changed - the crush still remained! We caught up intermittently over the following year, more often in a campus cafe rather than the pub. And then he was gone.

When my long term relationship, which had lasted all through Uni  faltered under the pressure of changing lives and my notions that it was either time to take the nest step or part, a friend with whom decided I needed a proper night out on the town to bolster my spirits. The Espy was heaving, and over the pool table at the back, was my first year crush. After delighted reunion I was drunk enough to tell him that I'd always had a crush on him. He laughed and asked why I had never told him. I responded that I thought it was my friend he'd liked. He looked at me gravely with those brilliant blue eyes and shook his head and told me, "No, It was never her.".When I realised what he meant, I could have swooned. The thought of what might have been flitted through my head. He who knew me so well understood exactly what I was thinking. He  suggested that we might make up for lost time. It was awesome, but fleeting - he moved back to WA where he'd been working in mines in the intervening years, and I was ok with that.

The next time we saw each other was at the airport - I was heading off on a work trip and he was returning to Melbourne as he'd landed a construction job. We had five minutes to exchange numbers and arrange to catch up. It never happened. When I think about how I found out he'd died, I still cry - I couldn't believe a,) that he was dead, and b) it had taken me so long to find out. We'd always been remiss about keeping in contact, and until recently because of my lifestyle and work commitments had never kept up with the news and current affairs.  I was sitting on the 6th floor of the Raymond Priestly building, having morning tea at my desk. It was awful, We had the radio on in the background, and I still cannot believe the synchronicity of my browsing the paper, turning the page and seeing his face, while his voice, the OOO call he'd made as he drowned was broadcast as a report on the Coroner's Inquest into his, and another man's death. As horrible, horrible accident. Why do such things happen to such wonderful people?

"Regrets, I've had a few, but then, too few to mention". I don't regret anything about knowing this awesome person, I wish his death had not been so painful, and so frightening and so alone, but I celebrate that I got to share some time with him, and I wouldn't change any of it. Especially not the time we spent together at the pub, in tutes, and in our reunion phase before he headed back out west. But I still can't drive through the Domain Tunnel. Not without hearing his wonderful laugh, and then the haunting pain and fear as he drowned in a drill hole during the creation of CitiLink.

What's in a profile?

I seriously think it's time to start my own business - one that specialising in creating an on-line dating profile for men, I swear – the online life must be a utopia I am missing – there’s a tardis out there and everytime someone creates a  profile on a  dating  site it takes them to a new world, a utopia in which every man there is laid (or layed) back, down to earth, has a good sense of humour, loves sports, carss, motorbikes and is looking for someone relaxed and with no baggage.

Clearly a huge amount of men I make contact with are so laid  back they can’t even  be bothered to turn up to an arranged date – it’s become  the de facto assurance once one has called a woman  assure her, don’t worry, I won’t stand you up!!!!

So obviously this is an accepted part of the on-line dating dance. The cancellation, or indeed the abandonment of foresworn  plans. I’m rather circumspect about this phenomenon. Laid back even “Lol” (which I’m beginning to suspect  stands not for Laughs out Loud, but for lamenting our lipservice.

The profile issue  is a conundrum – are Australian men that lazy that they cannot create something brief, amusing and to the point? This is why we are reduced to shopping on line for a man  by just looking at the pretty pictures – I’m actually all for a proforma, a couple of pics and away one goes! The worst are those that seek to identify all  of the traits he is NOT seeking – one such profile caused me a mild wrist cramp as I scrolled, and  scrolled and scrolled the list of  things this man did  want – if it had been on paper it would have gone on for pages… and the kicker being the concluding sentence. “Anyway I don’t believe this site is real, as no one has ever contacted me.” Well hellllooooo. What woman would – the litany of faults and  imperfections was so vast and voluminous I for one didn’t believe that there is any woman alive who could  gather up the temerity to contact this person – and after reading it, the “no thanks” button is little more than  an automatic twitch.

And what’s with the appalling profile pictures??? Blurry, indistinguishable, shot in bad light, with flashes reflecting off mirrors, taken from baaaaad angles, in dim light and uploaded  side-ways. If you’re lucky. My personal favourites are on one particular site where  there is a drop down menu to describe one’s looks, the photo is generally non-existant, or  only contains body parts, and the gentlemen in question have selected “See my photo” as their option!!!! Argj. And what’s with the body parts? Why does every second guy I chat to want to text me pictures of  their junk? And have me return the favour? Darling men, if you’ve seen one penis, you;ve seen them all – more or less, ifyou know what I mean. If I want to look at penises I’ll go online and download some free porn – god knows there’s a  surfeit of it – and don’t be thinking it will entice me to  date you just because I’ve seen it – seeing is not believing, and it’s incredible how much a crappy mobile phone photograph  can distort dimension and perspective. Enough said.

What I also don’t understand is the man who takes the time to write a reasonably intelligent profile piece, and talks about having fun but not being averse to a relationship with the right woman, who then goes against this be insistently demanding sex and only sex before even getting to the “My name is…” part of the introduction. I get a lot of this – my housemate doesn’t. Go figure. I had one guy tell me as his opening line that I looked like a sex maniac!  Where did that come from?

There’s an interesting thing about demographic too. I can categorise the age and type of men who attempt to contact me – the majority are between 26 and 34.  Well below my seeking criteria, as they say. There’s also an occupational thing – I receive messages and requests from an awfully high number of truck drivers, and personal trainers. WHY?????  The truck drivers I kind of get – in an obsure way – maybe they can’t read that I’m looking for educated, articulate intelligent men. But the personal trainers and former athletes? Am I to be a project? A rescue  mission?  I remember a former footballer I had a bit of a fling with – met him not on-line, but in the David Jones Food Hall on a weekday when I’d taken the day off for a doctor’s appointment and then gone browsing because I was extraordinarily early. What does a former athlete see in an incredibly unfit woman my age? Unfathomable… Anyway, the fling ended when he told me it was time for him to behave as his girlfriend was pregnant – might I add he’d not mentioned the girlfriend until that particular moment, and at that moment in time I hadn’t thought to ask – just assumed he was single.I must have been delusional, A former footballer in his early 30s with a penchant for encounters in shopping mall disabled toilets, what was I thinking???  Well I wasn’t… but now I do.  

And I’m very very sceptical – but that said, for every guy who doesn’t  turn up, or cancels at short notice, there’s one who will honour the commitment. Not all I have to do is find one who doesn’t drive me nuts, or go nuts himself.

Define "Bad Boy"

Ok, the past week's shenanigans has given me pause to reflect AGAIN of the nature of attraction, what one's type is and really - what constitutes a "bad boy". I guess I need to back track a little, and reflect on the varied men in my life and take note, they're not so varied.... I was brought up short by my lovely housemate early this week, who with hands on hips admonished me - "Don't go out with this man. I know you like bad boys, and he's the ultimate bad boy, so don't expect me to hold your hand and clean up the mess when it ends in tears." I laughed her off "What, his tears?". Great to be flippant, but she's right. And I did go out with him, and he has asked me out again, and already cancelled at the last minute. But that's ok.And it is true - she googled him and found out way more than anyone usually should - that's the thing about former international sportsmen - nothing to hide.

I've never been one to be overly anxious to please my partner - in any subservient sense of the word, and I scoff at the notion of there being one perfect person for one, but given thought, my leanings toward those who are, well, not quite normal, fully functioning men are interesting. Let's just say I like the silent , non-communicative type, and ironically fume against their inability to communicate. There is a pattern. I love men who are outwardly confident, and slightly demanding. But not too much. Two things you need to know about me, I don't take kindly to being told what to do. And I don't take kindly to being told what to do. I also find compliments difficult to handle. It's taken many years to just smile and say thank you when someone does pay me a compliment, and not make objections.

I remember being head over heels in my early twenties with the poet. We met at a birthday party - which happened to be on a boat which took the party between Williamstown and the docks in Melbourne for the evening. It's the first time I've looked across a room (well cabin) and thought - mmm, I want HIM!!!! And then gone and done exactly that. We both had issues - both under 25 and straight out of long term relationships, not sure what we were doing and where we were going - but there were nights later when we would be at the Public Bar in Nth Melbourne and he'd look at me across the pool table, My heart would leap into my throat, and he'd finish the game and without a word we would be in a cab, holding hands and going back to his place.Complicit silence. He was bad. Alcohol, drugs, gambling. I remember nights when he'd hand me his ATM card as we went to the casino and he instructed me that no matter what he did or said,was I under any circumstances to give it back to him. Argh. This man would take a beer into the shower with him, and I was entranced. Artistic temperament, soulful and just suffering from melancholy which he self medicated, I could not stay away. Funnily enough though, I had the guard up - even though I would drop everything at a moments notice to see him, I never really let him into my life - I became a frequent fixture at his place - I'll never forget the look on his housemates face when I emerged wearing his shirt one morning to go to the bathroom and answered a question about a music track he was playing to the other housemate - he'd been playing snatches from an album and asking the other hapless housemate if he knew who it was - I emerged and pronounced "Charlie Sexton" and he nearly fell over - yelling to the poet that "your new chick is amazing". Hehe The poet often lamented that I didn't invite him to my place, he never met any of my friends, with the exception of the mutual friend who had introduced us, and a particular gripe with him, that I always, always woke up and snuck out of the house before he woke up. I adored this man, and turned a blind eye to the bad behaviour, until one night I couldn't and held him while I waited fro an ambulance to respond to my call. He died before they arrived, and it was way too late for Narcan. Any wonder that my next relationship was with a born again Christian?

My date last week with Bad Boy was startlingly frank - or he was anyway. He inspected me and asked me if I was interested. When I asked why, without hesitation he responded " Your gorgeous - I'd fuck you in a heartbeat"
I was amused, and bemused - it's only on reflection of who he is, and his former success, and what it's cost him that leaves me at ease with that - I wouldn't take that from anyone else. Except I did from The Liar. Another bad boy with emotional issues and a tough upbringing. and de Riguer. and one of the two men I met this weekend. And it's why, even though the Chemical Engineer I dated on Wednesday was amusing and fun and intelligent, I won't be seeing him again, Nor will I see the guy from South America who took me out for lunch on Saturday and was a perfect gentleman  either. I don't do perfect gentleman. Not for very long, anyway.