Instincts

I haven’t written about it yet. But it needs to be written now.  

I returned from Europe, bright eyed and bushy tailed. 

I’d practiced yoga in Greece, eaten and hiked my way through Spain and met distant family in Germany that I never dreamed would be so welcoming.  

I thought, now was the time to get back on tinder. *shudders* 

 My self esteem was at an all time high. 

I was an independent  woman! A traveler extraordinaire! I don’t need a man, I want one!  

So I meet a guy.

The first date left me thinking, “he seems nice enough,  I’ll give him another go if he asks.”  That was my logic speaking. I didn’t listen to my instincts, which had calmy and softly said, “not this one, my dear”

He did ask, so I did go. And the second date left me thinking, “he deserves another shot.” 

And again with the third, and fourth dates and even when I decided I’d sleep with him,  I was still thinking, “surely there’s more to this?” 

I was waiting for it to get better. More exciting. More compatible. 

I didn’t like what he was interested in and he didn’t seem to care about what I liked. Why didn’t we laugh at each others jokes? Why was he so serious all the time? 

It was probably one month in when I realised I had to dump his ass. ASAP. It wasn’t fair to him and I was miserable every time I drove to his place. Why had I not listened to my first instinct? 

This was new territory. I’d never had to dump a guy. It took me six weeks. I tried to do it subtly, but he kept calling. 

So in the end I realised I had to be blunt. To his face (he was nice, he deserved a proper breakup)

A swift, “I’m not feeling this, I think we shouldn’t see each other any more” did the trick. 
I felt light, and airy, and so, so relieved. 

Faulty Female

If something goes wrong we like to have someone or something to blame. The traffic. The weather. That odd co-worker. Ourselves.
I find for me, I enjoy blaming myself, or no one at all.
For example, about a week ago a friend of mine asked me to housesit again. I’ve done it many times.
She mentioned that when they returned last time, after 4 months, their old cat was really skinny.

Then she died. (The cat, not my friend.)

And I thought and thought and thought about how much I fed those cats. Had I fed them the correct ammount? I mustn’t have otherwise the old cat wouldn’t have died. 
Probably.
But I’m pretty sure they got feed plenty.
How can I know for sure? The kitties can’t tell me. 
So over this week I’ve just accepted what is and tried not to blame anyone, not even myself. I also apologised to the remaining cats, just in case.

Then this weekend, a friend of mine came over.
We’ve been flirting for a while but nothing has happened. Until the other night.
I was so nervous but so goddamn excited that it was finally going to happen, because, if you’ve read any of my other posts, you’ll know this rarely happens.
I am the girl with very little experience. 

So there we were,  just getting straight into it, groping and kissing (mostly that was him, I was just enjoying).
My top was off then my pants were off and very soon his fingers and his tounge were exploring places that hadn’t been explored by a man for a while.
Of course, very soon I needed him more.
But he wasn’t ready, if you catch my drift. He was rocking a semi.
So we tried other things, but it softened up pretty soon.
He was embarrassed. I was embarrassed.
Was it me? Was he expecting some sex goddess who knew her way around a penis? Was he expecting me to be more tanned? More toned? Better boobs?

Logically, I know it probably wasn’t a lack of attraction on his behalf, it happens sometimes when they’re tired or stressed or have a medical condition. He probably is more embarrassed about it than me.
Even so, there’s still a little nagging voice on my head that’s saying “you could’ve tried harder, you could’ve pushed through your inexperience, you could’ve eaten less that day, you could’ve put more makeup on…”

The fault we put on ourselves distorts our view of reality.
Really, none of the above is my fault (probably) in fact, nobody is to blame. Just sometimes shit happens. All one can do is  be nice and learn for next time.

*And hopefully that friend and me can try again.*

Green grass

I’ve noticed I go through phases of happily single versus unhappily single. There are times when all I need is a man-friend. Why can’t I have one? Where is he? Maybe if I do this I can find one… it goes on.
The positive mantras and the living in the now and trying very hard not to reflect too much. The rifling through online profile after profile. The horror of inappropriate message after message. The sitting on the couch with parents on a saturday night.

I go through these times grasping for something I’ve never experienced. Wanting something.

But for what reason?

At times I think it’s unfair, and that I should have by now experienced a  romance.

And then I think: so what?

In another five, ten years, will it matter if I’m not partnered up while all my girls are married and (most) have babies? Will it really?
Say, 2026, and the girls have nine, six and two year olds and husbands that work all the time and are paying a mortgage for a house that is *unrealistically big.
*may or may not happen*

Is that something that’s meant to be nice? Is that level of busy-ness how we really want to live?
If it is I don’t want it.

I digress.

So in ten years, I might envy their lovely family unit. Their little clans (and I’ll happily babysit).
I have no doubt, however, that if I’m still single, they’ll also envy me. The only person I have to please is myself. And the person who babysits my dog.

“I tried calling Girl, she won’t answer.”

“Oh yeah, didn’t you see, she’s in Tuscany this time. I’m looking after her dog baby.”

I’m sure they’ll have a tiny bit of unwarranted sadness aimed in my direction, while they try to get their pre-teens off  whatever devices are cool in the future, believing that I must be miserable because I never found a man, had babies or purchased an SUV.

And if course, to some extent I will be sad, but mostly because (if things keep going the way they have) I never got the choice.

And, I suppose, neither have they.

They might look at my little house, which isn’t scattered with toys, nappies and jocks, and be a little envious.
They’ll be dreaming about jumping on a plane to Italy with me. But of course one has to organise not only children, but husbands.

We’ll both be peeking over our fence looking at each other’s yard thinking:

Yeah, it’s just green in different spots to mine. My grass is still good.

(And i only have to pack one suitcase for holidays.)

Stubbornness

There is a moment on every blind date when you realise if you want a second one or not.
For me, it’s instant and unchanging.
There’s no… “oh, maybe.” Is either yes or no and,  as a chronic fence-sitter at all other times, it’s confronting.
It usually comes down to a mild personality trait or/and physical attraction.
Last night I met a man for a drink. We had been chatting for a couple of weeks before we could meet because our schedules didn’t line up.
He was pleasnt enough. Quite excited about the house he just built, fair enough.
But couldn’t stop complaining about the shit job the builders did. Fair enough again, but there’s only so much whinging one should do on a first date.
Talked about that he “didn’t have any friends”. (I learned that he in fact does, but never sees them)
Fine, but I’m a lady who needs time with her friends and alone, and I got the clingy vibe.
All this was ok, second date worthy to see if maybe he could just talk banter and not be a misery-guts.
But then he took off his sunnies.
And I was not prepared for the level of unattraction I felt for his face as a whole.
I was so sad at how shallow I felt. What an awful human I must be.
However, the combination of both personality unnattraction and the physical unattraction makes it impossible for me to go on a second date.
He wasn’t terrible at all. He was just terrible for me.
Now to tell him in the nicest way possible.
Wish us luck.

The effect of online dating

It’s strange.
There are old acquaintances that I have on facebook that haven’t spoken to me for years. You know the sort, brother of high school friend. Primary school friend. Friend of high school friend’s boyfriend.
Maybe I’ve received or given the odd like on a post.

Jump online to find prince charming and all of a sudden, there is their name with a little picture bubble on my messenger app, saying something beginning with, “hey Girl, saw your profile on *dating  app* how have you been? Etc etc”  then at least two of them suggested we get our dogs together for a walk.

It could be completely innocent. One side of me is thinking: well of course, this guy probably is just very friendly . He probably just really does want his dog to meet my dog. Chill.

But mate, I had a dog for seventeen years before you saw my dating profile and you didn’t want to catch up then.
Now I’m thinking you just only want me for one thing. My knockout conversation. Or similar.

I’m still kind of baffled by this kind of attention because
a) why didn’t you have the confidence to just talk to me before, if this is friendship you want? And
b) if you’re after more, why did it take my face to pop up on a dating site for you to talk to me?  I’ve been single all this time.

I think this may be worse because I’m simply not keen on any of them.

It’s that agony of wanting to be as nice and friendly as possible and not assume intention; and wanting also to tell them bluntly not to even try, boy-o, I know what you thinkin’.

So I’m delaying responses and not giving many words when I do. It’s horrible but effective for getting rid of their crush-y feelings, of that’s there.
If those  ‘romantic’ intentions aren’t there, it won’t bother them. Hopefully.
Sorry.

Wish me luck.

The Four Men

So far, I’ve only met up with four men from my time online. There was almost a fifth but he was not respectful enough to meet me in a public area (see previous post about Mr Persistent)

Each of them have looked drastically different. Their personalities were as well.  This has only been good in the long run.

I noticed, that the more I listened to other people, the unhappier I became about the people I gave my time to.

Ye ole “just give him a chance”. Please don’t. Enough.
*If you’re a coupled woman saying this to your friend/sister/daughter stop. Now, pretty please.
*Disclaimer some women need this nudge. Use your instincts.

I’ll start from worst to best.

4. Mr Boring
Apologies for calling you boring. You were so nice. You probably aren’t boring to everyone, just to me.
You were pleasantly better looking than your picture.
You suggested supper after our coffee.
But mate, I just thought the conversation was hard work. You didn’t pick up where I dropped a flirty comment.
You didn’t really ask me about me.
You just didn’t have any cheekiness or goofiness about you. And I need that in my life.
You were almost too polite.
You’re a great human, just not a great human for me.

3. Sir Chatsalot
I knew about five messages in I should’ve done a slow fade. But “give him a chance” was ringing in my ears, so that’s what I did.
You were a bit too well dressed for me (your shoes were amazing and showed which part of town you grew up in) and you only asked me one thing about myself. It was, “Hi how are you?”.
For three hours you talked about yourself. Of course I asked you questions and encouraged more detail in the stories, that’s what polite people do, so maybe I’m partly to blame.
Sure, I really was intrigued by your experience overseas but, baby, THREE HOURS you talked for. I was waiting for a pause long enough to tell you I had to leave.
Even when I tried butting in with a story that related you quickly reverted the conversation back too you.
Can you blame me for not texting you back?

2. Friend-zoned
You know who you are. I think you’re a pretty cool guy.
You didn’t even mind that I spat on the food we were sharing (accidental)
You paid for the soiled dinner even though you were poor at the time.
You liked alot of the same things as me and you got my goofy side.
If only there had’ve been something there. In my groin area. Or my belly. Anywhere.
But there was nothing. Nothing at all. Not any little flutter anywhere at all.
Sorry I told you so bluntly when you asked me out again.

1. Alpha
You just knew how to play it with a shy girl.  You took me on those dates that you’re meant to and paid every time. You complimemted me and the conversation was mostly banter, which is how I like it.
You were the only one to get more than one date. You were the only one who gave me feelings.
Perhaps it was the combination of persistence, cheekiness and the teensy weensy portion of truthfulness that got me. It was also the butterflies that gave you an advantage. 
I wanted you to like me so, so much more than you did.
I was so nervous when you kissed me because I hadn’t kissed anyone in years. And you laughed at my awkwardness and kissed me anyway.
Then I was so nervous before you came over the first time because nobody had touched my vagina in years (besides myself..  and my lady doctor) 
And I’d never felt so free.
But then, instead of telling more of the truth, you fibbed, I guess because you wanted to keep stringing me along. Or you just got lazy.
Whatever happened, I soon realised I was far more invested than you were, so I had to tell you that, and let you go.
I learned alot from you, Alpha.

Now I’m listening to my lady intuition. Which means slim pickings,  currently.
No thank you, “sugardaddy69”. I’ll wait.

Not Hard but Hard.

There are those of us who seem to have alot of luck when it comes to the opposite sex. Or the same sex, depending on your orientation.
Then there are those of us who seem to have not much luck in “love”, really.

My theory is that the Universe, God, Higher Power, whatever, is taking the piss out of me, an unlucky one.

I’m pretty darn lucky with everything else, so I really shouldn’t complain.
I have all that I need.

The trouble is, when you have everything, you sometimes expect a bit more.
I feel ready to actually experience a romantic relationship.
Why not? All the cool kids are doing it. Heck, even Grandparents do it. Can’t be that tricky to find a soulmate. Surely.

Let me say, as one of those people who hears, “Hi Girl, howareyoudoyouhavea boyfriendyet?” At every party, it is harder than it seems.
Everyone wants to set you up with.. “..Matt, have you met him before? He’s so great.”
I’m sure he is. However if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that a fella who is even slightly interested in seeing you physically and emotionally naked will talk to you himself. He doesn’t need his Aunty Maude telling him how much of a good girl you are.

Anyway back to the Gods whispering and giggling behind their hands.

I’ve politely, for a few years now, said “Yes, I am ready. Send him my way.”
At the same time, I’ve said, “But OK if he’s not ready, I’d like to have some sex.”
It had been a few years, if you know what I mean.

Some good, safe, respectful casual rolls in the hay. Not too tricky, you might think.
WRONG. You’re so, so wrong.

Scenario 1:
Before the pill. Going clubbing/pubbing on the weekend. Yes! Anything goes. I’ll take a condom. I’ll make sure the lady garden is tamed.  I have enough money for a taxi from anywhere.
Day of girls night: Period. Aunty Flow. Ladies things. WHAT THE FUCK I’M A WHOLE WEEK EARLY.
Or, TWO WEEKS LATE.
Four times this happened.
FOUR.
Every time I conciously decided I could have a one night stand my fucking womb expelled it’s lining.
So a girl thinks, “Ok, don’t pick up a filthy guy from a bar”. Not meant to happen in this way.

Scenario 2:
Online. Have had a few dates with various men, none made me want to take off my clothes or listen to them again. Well, there was one but that’s a different story.
Start chatting to a very persistent fellow.
Now, before we go on, girls with any self respect will NOT go straight to a man’s house without meeting him in a public area first. Just in case there are bad vibes/ he looks the opposite of his picture.
Or at least, I don’t do that.
I tell all the guys I talk to about this rule. It’s about respect.
So chatting to Mr Persistent. He seems a bit dumb, but all the pics are downright hunky, so I’ll overlook it. This is probably just casual, after all.
Long story short he asks to “go meet for coffee sometime”
Of course!
No plans are made. So, a couple of days later I let him know some days that I’m free, if he still wanted to meet.
He calls me on a Friday after work.
“I’ve got indoor cricket, but come over after. Around 10pm.”
“Haha you’re hilarious. We haven’t met yet.”
“Na, it’s ok, just come over.”
“We haven’t met in a public venue yet, so no, not ok.”
“Yeah it’s fine.”
“No. … …. anyway take care.”
(This is a condensed version of the actual conversation, I stressed that if met in public first, you never know where the day might take us.)
Mr Persistent simply could not understand why I was so adamant on a public meeting. I got random calls from him for weeks. He still texts every now and then. Persistently dumb.

Scenario 3:
A friend of a friend of mine started messaging me, I’m assuming when intoxicated.
It started nicely. I didn’t mind if he was a bit drunk, I was just happy he was messaging me.
I was pretty sure he’d had a little crush on me for a while but no way am I making the first move. Or even the second.
After a couple of weeks of flirting, I realised this was probably just going to be casual for him. That’s ok. I really didn’t mind. We hardly talk at parties anyway and because my bestie is his friend, I felt safe he wouldn’t be a complete immature douchebag when we stopped our “thing”. It would be safe all round.
He asked me over his place.
He said – via text- that if he was in the shower when I got there I could join him.
Ok! Yesssss this is finally happening! Safe, respectful, casual sexual intercourse was about to be mine!!!

I moisturised. I put on a teeny bit of makeup and ran out that door.
When I got there he and he was watching the cricket.
We chatted for about 15 minutes. I was waiting for “the move”.
It didn’t look promising. So I decided to pull the only move I could think of. I asked him if he had just invited me to watch the cricket.
This was his time. I was there.

This next moment was when I realised the Universe was laughing. Fucking slapping it’s knees and holding it’s belly.

He said it was a bad idea. He said because I’m so close to all his close friends.
Ok, but I’m nice, I said. Im not the sort of character to go bitching when you don’t call me back IF I know what “this” is. Which I did.
Then he said he was still getting over a girl who rejected him.
So I friend-zoned myself. Asked him to tell me about her.

Twenty minutes later, I went home.
That night I realised that this had constantly happened.
That night I realised that I must have to wait (again)  for a man who actually likes me. And who I actually like back.

Then I went to buy more batteries for my  vibrator.

Nice guys

Here’s the thing all you nice guys out there need to know.
You know you’re awesome. And if you don’t know you’re awesome you at least know you’re nice. You have a heart.

Everyone knows how annoyed you become when a girl you may or may not have a teensy crush on says, “I just want to meet a nice guy!” Or similar. You’re obviously standing right infront of her! There you are, being the nicest guy ever.  She is so glad she has a friend like you.
So of course, you’re internally screaming, because either
a) she hasn’t considered you or
b) you asked her out and she laughed. (Hopefully she didn’t laugh, that’s rude)
*If you’ve slept together it’s a different situation, and I can’t help you.*

I need to tell you what she didn’t. Don’t be offended.
She’s not attracted to you. No, no, you’re not ugly!! Attraction is a strange biological beast. For me at least, I’m very puzzled by my eye’s physical reaction to different men. Mostly it has varied. Every man I’ve been attracted to has been different. Tall and lean, average and muscly, or chubby. Lots of hair, not much hair, many tattoos or none.
None of them have looked like a Hemsworth, but there was something. A little flutter.

This is what we wait for. This is why we turn down advances from you nice guys. It’s not your fault, it’s not your looks, but our bodies don’t want your penis anywhere near our vagina, even if on paper you’re perfect.

We ladies are waiting for the nice guy who also gives us that little flutter.

There’s not much you can do. Don’t give up, but please take a hint (It’s creepy if you don’t)
And soon, I hope, there will be a woman who has those fluttery butterflies with you.

x

Picking a winner

Mum used to say that I was “too picky”.
For about five years she would say this  to her friends, in front of me, about why I didn’t have a boyfriend yet. I used to just laugh it off with “Yes, he must own a yacht”. 
If she needed that reason to make herself feel better then so be it.  Then one day i told her. I really did. “For fucks sake mum, how can I be picky when no man approches me? I’m not being picky if there’s no one for me to pick!”
It was around then that I thought, if an organic approach to love wasn’t working, perhaps this “internet” thing was worth a try. Never having had a boyfriend, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
If you’ve never experienced chocolate, you go buy some to try. You never know if you’ll like it or not if you don’t try it for yourself. So online I went to pick my prince.

One of the best things about “dating” online is the hilarious, offensive and, worst of all boring, opening lines of hopeful (read: horny) fellas.
The following is some of the best of the best, that I may or may not have screen-shot and shown all my girlfriends. I will include their low standards of spelling and punctuation.

“As long as i have a face u have a place 2 sit.” Thanks, bro, but your face is going nowhere near my vajayjay.

“YOUR HERE COS U LOVE THE D ;-” said the boy with a bong in his profile pic. Nice observation, amigo, I’m not in here beacuse I’m after the V.

“Hi hru” oh he means, ‘How Are You?’ I think…

“Beautician… you should beautify yourself” thanks mate. At least you took the time to read my profile. High five fuck knuckles.

There was a man (boy) who propositioned me for sex using only emojis. DOES THAT EVER WORK?
God I hope not.
If you’re a girl who meets strangers after only an eggplant emoji then it’s partly your fault this has occured.  (Power to you, but c’mon, have some respect for yourself and your safety.)

Have any of these ever worked? 
You can understand my trepidation about replying to lads like this.
Heck, if you’re a  lady online you know the excitement of receiving a message notification only to read, “wat r u up 2 rite now?” The agony that no, this is definitely not your future husband. That is simply a very lazy boy.

But it’s not just the cocky douchbag lines that put me off.
My girlfriends think I’m picky with these ones, but in my experience the following have led to dull conversations about work and/or themselves.
“Hey, you seem nice, let’s chat sometime”
And
“Hi, I’m _______. How has your day been?”
These are so nice. These guys aren’t disrespectful.  But nor do they flirt. Or ask you out. Buddy, what’s the point of even messaging me? I didn’t come on here to talk about my job or yours. Let’s have a real conversation.

The very worst is plain old “hey” or similar.
I really dislike it. It shows that as a man he’s
a) just a lazy fuckboy
b) uncreative or
c) super dooper shy
These aren’t bad in general, they’re just bad for me.  ***Men, if you don’t lead I can’t follow.
***unless we’re in the bedroom***

Then there are the photos. Ohhhhhh the profile photos.

Mirror selfies freak me out. Perhaps because I think that they’re odd unless you’re in the club toilets with yo’ biddies. Or an ugly snapchat.

If a man’s profile picture is JUST his car forget it. I’m slightly suspucious of people who love cars that much.

If it’s an abs selfie, he can go fuck himself with his own photo.

If it’s pensive and moody in muted tones I’m going to make a snap judgment that he’s a bit of an artsy wanker who has a coffee addiction.

If he’s flipping the bird he is no older than nineteen.

Fellas, some girls will love these, so don’t be something you’re not just because I have particular ideas about how a guy should behave. It doesn’t mean all girls think this way. Some girls love lazy fuckboys because they’re lazy fuckgirls.
Some girls dig Holden Commodores as much as you do. Keep looking for her.

So, now I realise, perhaps I am picky when it comes to who I give my time to. Is this such a bad thing though? When did it become wrong to trust your feminine instinct by not trying to revive a dying conversation?

Inappropriate men, I’m glad you’re taking the time to message me. It could be because it makes hilarious conversation when the girls and I have dinner, but mostly it’s because I’m learning to listen to my own rules, not everyone else’s.

Mum never says I’m too picky anymore.

The view from the shelf.

This maiden post will, perhaps, be quite frustrating for the educated reader, due to bad grammar and inconsistent writing style. Actually, all my posts might be this way. Don’t be a judgy dickhead about it.

This post is probably the first of many whingey posts about the teeny tiny part of my life that involves romance. If you can call it that.

For the best part of twenty five years, I have believed with all my heart in true love. The kind  of love that starts sweetly, then passionately. It grows into a deep caring (passion must still be there). Maybe you share the responsibility of making a home, and a family. All the while you’re both faithful and loyal and GODDAMN IT  you care about each other’s happiness and you show it. And you still want to fuck as often as possible (hopefully). Well, of course it must be different for every couple, but you get it. That kind-of-fairytale love.

For twenty five years I have believed that there is someone or some-two or three out there for everyone. We all deserve romance, right? Not pretend romance where you buy a gal coffee and expect a quick blowjob in the car on the third date. Without reciprocating (jerk). Real romance where you both think the other human is pretty awesome and you’d like to go on adventures and do lovely things for each other. I really, truly believe in love.

I’ve had friends in high school with nice boyfriends like this. Some of them had not-so-nice boyfriends too.  Some of my gal-pals have not gone more than 3 months without a boyfriend. Wouldn’t be caught dead single, darling.

Now we’re out of school and uni. One is married with a baby (eeee so sweet). One is engaged (they’re perfect together). And three of them are living with their men-folk (its pretty cool seeing my lovelies have their shit together). I have 1 good single friend who lives in the same city as me (she is swimming along) I tell you my whole hearted belief in love is a little less shiny. Because all this time,  this twenty five years, while my beauties have had boyfriends and fiance and husband, I haven’t had one. Not ever. None.

Don’t get me wrong, gorgeous reader, up until recently no fucks were given. I simply knew I’d meet someone cool when the time was right. I wasn’t looking for mr right or even mr right-now. I figured because I was out and living my life at least one decent bloke would appear and sweep me off my feet. And if nobody did, I had a vibrator for those days I needed one and friends for lady-dates. It was all swell.

Then, it seemed quite suddenly, my ladies had less time for me. Some moved away and the best ones got more serious with their man-friends.

I’m just now giving a fuck. And I’m not sure if I like it. My heart hurts a little because it seems unfair that someone as bloody lovely as me has been left on the shelf. Stupid romance.

So what’s a girl to do?

She starts internet dating.

x