The Good Girl Confessional

Tales from behind the picket fence

All the pretty words…the tale of the Author

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Be careful what you pray for, you just might get it

Be careful what you pray for, you might regret it

You get your hands on the glittering prize

Now everybody’s coming at you from every side

Be Careful what you pray for – Paul Kelly

Once upon a time, in down town Melbourne, as I, the Good Girl, professed to the universe that I was ready for the right guy to come along… my phone buzzed. I had seriously spoken out loud to the universe, verbalising a wish list of the qualities I want the perfect guy to possess in some attempt to perhaps manifest him. It seemed like a lame thing to do, sure, but in saying it out loud, perhaps I was also clarifying things in my own mind. And it’s not like I was baying at the moon!

Seriously, spookily, thirty seconds after actually verbalising what I wanted, a text message was delivered from a guy I hadn’t heard from in over a year. The very first man I had chatted to after things finished with the Producer. Was this a sign?!

On paper, this was the guy. On paper, he had all the qualities I hoped to find in a man. Single, intelligent, creative, thoughtful, articulate, generous of spirit, affectionate, humorous, left wing, ….and a writer.  A published author to be precise, and the host of a popular podcast where he interviewed famous, well-to-do writers. He was the chair of a writer’s association and guest speaker at many literary events.

When I first started speaking with him a year ago, there was definitely a spark, with  banter that flowed easily. He was both interesting and interested in what I had to say.  He made me laugh, such a welcome relief after a break up.

Although we talked on the phone often, we never actually met face to face.  One night he called me to say he had an opportunity to get back with his ex-girlfriend and me being me, I encouraged it.

Leave no stone unturned, have no regrets, I advised. I wished him well and that was that. I had felt that tiny sting of disappointment, at a missed opportunity. We seemed to have so much in common, but timing is everything.

So a year later, a lovely message had popped up on my phone from the Author.  Clearly he was single again. He had been separated from his ex-wife for over two years, and the relationship in between hadn’t worked. He reached out on the off chance I might too be single…it’s all about timing.

As expected, it felt like we just picked up where we had left off. He handed me a gift, which was a copy of the Tex Perkins biography, remembering that in my conversations from 12 months before, I’d mentioned that I had selfies with Tex at a country music festival, along with James Young, music promoter. He managed to make me smile in the first few seconds.  It was very thoughtful. After drinks, he walked me to the tram stop and kissed me gently. Lovely. Easy.

So here I was again, with another Northern suburbs, inner-city, left wing creative. He was an ex punk rocker with a killer vinyl collection, an athiest Jew formerly of Sydney, and 56 years old.  Yes voter in the ridiculous Marriage Equality survey here in Australia.

Vote yes, just get it done. 

The Author pursued me, and was driving every catch up. At each date, he was already suggesting the next. He planned them all. He took me to many literary events and introduced me to people within his writer’s world. He invited me to come and watch him work on his podcast, where I met the producers and fan-girled while meeting one very famous Australian writer, whose books had been adapted for film by the likes of Spielberg. I got first hand wonderful advice from the famous writer…It was like a dream come true.

Watching him work was lovely, in the sense that he was so openly happy to allow me into his world, something that had taken such a long time for the Producer to do. Everything about this just felt easy and okay. What is this strangeness? Where is the hard work part, I questioned.

On one particular night he  invited me to stay in town and booked a hotel room. We had dinner, and then went to a cosey wine bar for drinks. He’s a tactile guy, lots of lovely hugs, and kisses and holding hands, and quite comfortable with public displays of affection.  Romantic, clever and funny, this guy was starting to win me over.  In the wake of my mum’s sudden departure from the earth, he was caring, sweet and lovely.

Like a fairy tale…

As we all know, fairy tales don’t really exist. Most of them cleverly are moralistic tales of foreboding outcomes…And so it was with the Author. For six lovely weeks, he made me feel like I was the only woman in existence, wining and dining me, hanging out, watching films, laughing a lot. On the last weekend we spent together, he opened up, admitting that his marriage had failed when he’d had an affair on his wife of twenty years.

Oh. 

Worse, the “girlfriend” he went back to a year before was the woman he’d had the affair with.

Oh, shit.

And, he admitted, he had previously had a gambling addiction. He liked to flutter on the ponies.

Holy hell.

I kept an open mind.  I listened to what he had to say.  He didn’t try to justify his behaviour.  So, on the tail end of his confessions, I explained how my marriage had ended to the Taurus, and the devastation of his financial betrayal. The next day, as we untangled limbs and he climbed out of bed, he confirmed our dinner plans for Tuesday night and confirmed our attendance at an event the following Saturday.  He lingered in my kitchen over coffee, kissing my neck, telling me I was amazing…and then he left.

Not three hours later, he was phoning me. My openness and my ability to articulate my pain at what my ex-husband had done, and the truth of the aftermath apparently was like an epiphany for him that what he had done to his ex-wife must have been devastating.  Didn’t he get that in the past two years?!

He felt he owed it to her to throw himself on her mercy. To go to counselling with her and ask if she might take him back and forgive him.

You fucking what now?!

Wow.  Didn’t you just climb out of my bed only hours ago?!  I listened.  I took a deep breathe. Tears betrayed me, though I’m sure it was just the shock of his words and their consequent meaning. That he had gleefully fed me hope,  How dare he, I asked, use my pain to somehow garnish some redemption from his ex-wife?  He spewed forth a sea of “I’m sorries”…So very sorry. Sorry. Oh god, very sorry…

“Perhaps, “ I pondered to him, “The best course of action might be to live your life in such a way that apologies aren’t required to the women you leave in your wake.  Try being single and working out your issues.”

He sent me a message the day after explaining that his ex-wife wasn’t keen on taking him back.  No? Really? Gee, I wonder why?   

Especially when he was still friends on social media with the woman he’d had the affair with. Oh, and you just climbed out of my bed to boot! Or was it all just an elaborate excuse to get out of yet another relationship?  Who can say for sure? The Author was a teller of tales, a weaver of deceit.

The Author was no Prince Charming.  He was however, a Wolf in Sheep’s clothing.

I have no doubt there will be a happy ending for me, but in this case I definitely dodged a bullet. This won’t dull my optimism! I’ll just need to stay a few more dragons to arrive at the prize.

Of brains and brawn…enter the Strongman

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Image result for lego strongman

 

 

So no one told you life was going to be this way.
Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, you’re love life’s DOA.
It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.But, I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before.
I’ll be there for you, cause you’re there for me too.
The Rembrandts (I’ll be there for You)

Dating can be a bit of a three-ring circus. I don’t have to tell you that if, like me, you find yourself on the so called wrong side of 40, and you’ve been on the dating hamster wheel for a little while. In fact, some of you are no doubt rolling your eyes thinking “no shit, Sherlock.”

As some of you know, I suddenly found myself single at 41 when my marriage ended and now, with another relationship under my belt, I’m standing here single at 48. The Producer and I gave it a red hot go, even living together, and lasted 4 years, though in truth we were so wrong for one another.   Blind Freddy could see it. I just didn’t want to.

He was the King of mixed signals and let’s face it, I was the Queen of wanting to believe it could be different (Ugh…perfect). I learnt valuable lessons from this relationship, I now realise.  I could love the fuck out of someone without it being healthy. A fact I should have known in my 20’s but I seriously hadn’t known that. I learnt that codependency isn’t awesome and I learnt that a mutual value base is important to make something work. Most of all, I learnt that two people with good intentions can trigger bad things in each other when compatibility is missing.  We loved each other, no doubt about it. He was  both terrible and brilliant, as was I. Even after the break up, we were there for each other when needed.  And then we weren’t.  I have no regrets. For the first time in the 16 months since we split, and maybe because I’ve just gone through losing my mother which puts a lot into perspective, I can finally smile when I see memories of the Producer pop up on my Facebook feed, or I hear a song on my playlist that reminds me of him.

Yet, I continue to date with a sense of optimism, which is how I’m built I guess.  One of my friends thinks I’m brave that I continue to open myself up to the possibilities of meeting someone, even though I’ve been very hurt…that I’m prepared to my heart on the line. Ha! Well, I’m either really brave or a little bit crazy…or probably both! If you are hoping to actually have a relationship, beyond hook ups, there are no guarantees or handbooks on the dating front.  It does require a dose of courage and a measure of vulnerability. I’ve become more cautious with time, but I fight not to be jaded or scarred by the past.  That’s not always easy.

Sometime after the Producer, I dated the motorcycle riding, right wing, Fox-watching American and obviously that was never going to work. I’m so left-wing, and my feminist views were too much for him. What I had absolutely learnt from my previous relationship though was that I couldn’t ignore red flags. It didn’t feel right and I didn’t feel okay about certain things, so walking away was an obvious decision. As I often say, if someone shows you who they are, believe them. He showed me he was a bit of a dick, and I believed it. You can read about the American here http://thegoodgirlconfessional.com/the-mother-load-music-mothers-and-mayhem/

Then out of the blue, along came the Strongman.

We had been work colleagues but to be honest, I hadn’t viewed his potential dating material.  Though he worked in the corporate arena his passion was simply lifting heavy shit. He was offended by those that thought he was a weight lifter.  No, he corrected them….he was a professional strongman. He didn’t just pump iron.  Strongman competitions involved lifting awkward heavy objects. Think truck tyres being flipped, or concrete spheres, known as Atlas stones, weighing in around 100 kg (sometimes more) being lifted onto pedestals.  He once carried 400 kilos in a competition, which just seems impossible.  Who actually does that?

Perhaps fortune favors the brave. and when he was made redundant from work he summoned up the courage to ask me out.  I was initially taken aback. It was most unexpected but since I live my life with a sense of adventure, I said yes. Why not? Now at this point, he was also adamant he was going to to live in the Uk, so initially I said no.  He decided to stay and I agreed to a date at the ballet.

He was 9 years younger than me, sweet but not really my usual physical type. Sure, the Strongman was tall, like most men I date.  At 6 ft. 4 inches (193cm) tall, this guy was built and big, as you would imagine. He was a bald, former red haired man, with an Irish heritage. He spent hours every day in the gym. He consumed up to 4000 calories a day on the lead up to competitions. While we were dating, he represented Australia as a part of a team at a competition overseas, where he was required to pull a bus.  I kid you not. Now, I don’t pretend to understand this sport on any level, but he was extremely passionate about it and committed to it and I admired that.

I can’t stress enough that he was a nice guy. He was affectionate and kind and I really liked his sense of social justice but he was also a man of simple taste seeking a simple life. Yes, he had a dark past, and anyone playing along will know that I do have a soft spot for former bad boys.

He’d been raised as an elite private school boy, but joined the military and had served in both East Timor and survived a couple of tours in Afghanistan. Serving his country had left him with a small scar where a bullet had shattered his jaw, and, a large dose of PTSD.

Disillusioned by the military and feeling abandoned by the government that sent him to these foreign wars, when he was discharged he found himself in a bikie gang,   along with an alcohol and drug addiction. Survival is a powerful instinct, and he realised that he had to do something drastic to save himself, or he was going to die.

I don’t quite know how one extradites themselves out of a biker club, but I guess there are ways. He certainly didn’t elaborate or talk about it. He walked away from that life, turned to the Catholic Church after a long hiatus, and joined Narcotics Anonymous. All of this was a huge surprise to me, given I knew him to be a caring and spiritual man who raised money for orphans in the Philippines and happily worked alongside his dad at Melbourne soup kitchens. He considered his altruism to be much needed redemption.

His hedonistic life was long gone by the time we met. As a reformed alcoholic, he didn’t drink, of course. It did get me thinking however, that the last three men I’d been with – The Producer, the American and the Strongman, all had past demons with alcohol. Former addicts.

Go figure.

What I soon found out was that spending so many hours in a gym was great for his soul, and a newer healthier addiction than those in his past, but it didn’t lend itself to a social life.  He was in the gym at 4.00am every day so by 7.00pm at night he was exhausted and wanting to go to bed.  Weekends consisted of training followed by chilling out on my couch, eating and watching Netflix. Though not always Netflix & Chill, which is an entirely different thing all together…and sometimes he was even too tired for that!

On that note, I have to say that the gentle giant and I were quite compatible when he wasn’t too exhausted.  Not going to lie…it was quite lovely to be with someone who could pick me up and who would take control in the bedroom.  The thing is though, I also need mental stimulation, and passion. It almost felt like the Strongman was too agreeable.  If I said it, he agreed.  I didn’t need a yes man.  I needed a man of principle with his own ideas.

I guess I just felt restless. Life is about passion, and I love taking chunks out of life as much as he loves the gym, so I’m always out and about finding new things to do. A weekend in front of the TV was, for me, a slow kind of torture. He no longer drove, didn’t own a car and lived over an hour away.  In some ways it just didn’t feel grown up. As sweet as this gentle giant was, I felt like I was dating another man-child, who had little responsibility and no plans of adopting any soon.  My life was so different.

In the end, after three months, we decided that we weren’t made for each other, and mutually decided to call it quits while we were still friends. I raised it first, and after a few days he conceded. It was a lovely adult break up, followed by a cuddle. He didn’t need to change for anyone and I had no intention of doing so either.

As one door closes however, another is always certain to open. My heart is resilient, despite the setbacks, and I am the eternal optimist…having said that, if you know a grown up man who is both spiritually and emotionally evolved, who has sorted out his his baggage enough to date, by all means send him my way!

p.s He must like life, books, movies, food, cool bars and have a sense of adventure…just saying!

.

 

 

 

The very Bridget life of the Good Girl

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Daniel Cleaver

Just as you are?

Not thinner? Not cleverer?

Not with slightly bigger breasts and a slightly smaller nose?

BRIDGET: Mm-mmm.

Well…fuck me.

Scene from Bridget Jones’ Diary (2001)

 

As the next Bridget Jones film in the franchise is about to launch, fifteen years after the original, I’ve decided to come clean about something. The thing is, a much as I like to think I’m a red hot single mama,  I’m definitely more Bridget Jones than Dita Von Teese. Don’t get me wrong, I am most definitely a red blooded woman, who is both open and sexual. You only need to look at my earlier posts, like Love Me, Love my Vagina…but I digress. I’ve just come to understand that the reason I could always feel an infinity with Bridget Jones is because, actually I’m very much like an Australian version of her.

When I started this blog 4 years ago, way before the Producer came along, I talked a lot about seeking my own Mr Darcy. Of course I had the glorious Colin Firth in mind when I talked of Darcy…and more the Bridget Jones version of him (even in a reindeer sweater) than the Jane Austen classic. Obviously I wasn’t too clear with the universe, because in meeting the Producer, what I actually got was more Daniel Clever of the Hugh Grant variety…all bad boy hormones but not enough emotional intimacy to keep the relationship going.

In fairness to me, and to the Producer, our love affair started out with incredible sparks, and he made me laugh…a lot. He will thrilling and the sex was incredible. I adored his arse. That’s the thing about bad boys. Sometimes they start out irresistible and end up…well, just bad for you, even with the best of intentions on both sides. Man, we loved each other, but love alone is not enough.

“Come on, Jones, for God’s sake. You’re sexy. You make me laugh…at you of course, not with you. And you were, incidentally, the best shag I ever had…”

Daniel Cleaver (Bridget Jones – The Edge of Reason (2004)

Bridget Jones Diary of course started out as novel written by Helen Fielding in 1996. By the time the film adaptation came to life, Fielding had sold millions of copies of her book worldwide. People couldn’t get enough of Bridget, a woman in her thirties who chronicled her entire life – from family, friends, career, her weight struggles and, of course, her love life. British Bridget is of course played to perfection by American actress, Renee Zellweger.

Bridget, for me, seemed like the “every woman”. She just made sense. She was goofy and endearing, and felt accessible. I simply wanted her to be okay because in truth she reminded me in some ways of me. I have similar characteristics. We are both, for example curvy women, with quirky tastes in literature, men and the odd drink. Our cooking skills are dubious and we like bad men.  I often lament about giving up wine and losing some kilos, just as she does. While Bridget penned a diary, I write a blog about much the same thing. My dating, my weight, my friends and my ridiculous optimism that my very own Mark Darcy might be out there.

As much as I like to think I’m quite all together in some ways, I’ve had some extraordinary Bridget like moments. Most recently was on my way to a black tie event in Melbourne. I’d had my make-up done by a gorgeous young make-up artist, my hair was great and I had donned a classic black lace dress, over my Bridget style spanx…(oh, come on, we’ve all got a pair hidden in the back of the knickers drawer!)… and spiky patent leather heels. When I jumped into the cab, I felt like it was a Cinderella moment of epic proportions. Honestly, there was almost a Hollywood screen reel running in my head and I was loving myself sick for the first time in a long time. Oh Good Girl, you’re back, baby!

Whilst in the cab, the phone rang and on the other side of that call was Fashion Guy. Fashion guy headed up a well-known men’s fashion label and had a boyish face that belies his fifty years. He was sweet and flirty. As the cab pulled up near the event, I managed to step out as elegantly as I could whilst holding my mobile to my ear. Then the unthinkable happened.

Snap!

That’s the bloody sound of my stiletto breaking. And my heart…I loved those damn shoes and, ironically, the Producer had bought them for me. Was that a sign from the universe?

Stifling a gasp while I acted cool with Mr Fashion, I said my very calm goodbyes, hung up and then panicked! How the hell could I rock up to a black tie affair with a bloody broken shoe?! Given this was a Saturday and still quite early, I spotted some shops and hobbled towards them, limping in my one good heel and one broken shoe. Of course the stores had just closed. So I did what a Good Girl needed to do and banged on the window of a shoe store like a crazy person until finally a bewildered assistant opened the door ever so slightly.

“Please,” I gasped, quite dramatically, “Can you please help me…it’s an emergency!”

Women are the best. They totally understood my predicament, let me in and three shop assistants scattered in different directions to find black heels in my size. Bless those girls. I managed to get a pair of gorgeous shoes at very short notice that actually felt comfortable all night!

Heels

These heels saved me!

If I was in any doubt about Bridget Jonesy-ness, just yesterday as I was coming down an escalator with the Greek Goddess I work with, when we lost control of a trolley full of water bottles and in the process, my work security pass flung into the gap between two moving escalators. So there I was, in heels no less, running upwards on the downward escalator, like a mad woman, arms flailing everywhere, heart racing, trying to fling myself over to get my pass. Eventually a lovely young woman used her umbrella to fling my pass to a place I could actually retrieve it. Ugh…so glamorous!

Since Bridget ended up with Mark Darcy, a human rights Barrister…and I’ve just chatting with a nice, but seemingly unavailable, man who happens to be a family law barrister…could this be another sign that Bridget and I are indeed aligned?! Now that would be hilarious…and a little bit spooky! In the meantime I shall remain, just like Bridget, a wonten sex goddess…

Mark and Bridget

After all, aren’t we all waiting for someone who loves us…just as we are?

 

 

The Usual Suspects…the men you’re most likely to meet online!

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 Image result for line up of men

Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and I turn
And I dream of what I need

Bonnie Tyler

Since I’ve launched back into the interesting world of internet dating, I’ve come across a lot of nice men…okay, not a lot…but some. Of course I’ve also come across other kinds of men as well. This is not my first time around the single girl carousel of course. I’ve dated in the past. Quite a lot.  For the more experienced dater, you start to understand that finding an actual relationship is a lot like job seeking, or auditioning for your role in a Broadway musical. It’s a numbers game. Sometimes it seems quite unattainable…but reason tells you that you’ve been in love before and no doubt you will again.

Having said that, my flirtation with Tinder came and went in record time. As suspected, it’s more about hook ups than longevity, which would have been fine if I was seeking a f*ck-buddy. Certainly if I was it wouldn’t take long to find one!

First tip of dating – always be really clear in your mind about what you want.

Second tip? Be just as clear about what you don’t want!

Now I don’t want to be a downer gorgeous single women of a certain age, but when you find yourself dating in your 40’s, your likely to come across certain types of men. It’s easy to think such men are just stereotypes, but once I dated a few and was contacted by many more, I started to understand that most men do indeed fit into categories.

Here’s a few of the usual suspects.

The full time Super Dad  –  8 days a week

Was there an article in men’s mag that I missed that gave pointers on how to frame yourself as a doting full time single father in order to avoid commitment?! Now there may indeed be some sole parent dads out there with full custody of their kids, of course, but what would be the chances of talking to not one, but four of them, within weeks? Being a single parent myself, I certainly have nothing against a single dad. Let’s make that clear. Most people share custody of their kids…some do not.

In the online world of dating, I realised that “full time dad” is actually code for they are possibly married,   players, or commitment-phobes.  They can only offer to see you one day a week because that’s when they get help or support from babysitters….Looking back, even the affable Captain America I went on dates with, was this guy! Fearlessly raising his 13 year old, juggling work and ice hockey, the poor darling could only manage to date on Sundays.

I went on a date with a Fashion brand manager who was apparently raising three sons on his own. It left so little time he could only manage Thursday nights.

Then I met Batman, who takes the cake and actually warrants an entire blog of his own…he ran his own creative brand agency (yes, yes, I have a thing for creatives….god help me), who, through his brooding darkness and his kinky longings for all things cat woman, was somehow managing to run his own business whilst raising two kids, all on his own. Did he feel then that he’d actually have time to get to know someone, I enquired. Of yes…he could manage lunch time catch up and rendezvous in his lovely office in an iconic arcade in the city…Hmmm.

I’ve just been chatting to a lovely guy who contacted me. He is, ironically, a family law barrister…and takes care of his child “5-6 days a week.” Chatting with him is easy. He’s articulate and intelligent. He’s a northern suburbs guy and shares the same quirky tastes I have in music and films. He plays the guitar and recently performed in a band at the Cherry Bar…but he’s that guy. The 8 days a week super dad…He can usually manage Fridays. I did ask him if he’d noticed, in his line of work, if more fathers were indeed getting full custody of their children. After all, what if I was wrong? As it turns out, no, he hasn’t actually seen any increases in the stats.

Now, if I dated them all, I could almost have a full time guy!

Set in his ways guy…set, like concrete.

This guy has been living the bachelor dream for some time. He sleeps with women, and may have dinner with them before if he feels like the company. He thinks he wants a relationship but he’s also not prepared to change anything in his life to accommodate one.  He’ll let you know his routine very early on. He started running this year, so he runs every other day, having conquered the running app on his phone. I’m a mad gamer and my only time to unwind with my Ps4 is Friday nights and Sundays…after I jog. I’m working long hours so Monday nights are out and Wednesdays won’t work as I’m into  *insert hobby here…cycling, gym workouts, yoga, martial arts….* He can’t manage Saturday mornings because he needs to walk the dog, shop, clean or whatever. In the end, if you are willing to slot into one night a week and one night on the weekend for all eternity, this is your guy! The reality is, he’s not going to make too much time in his life for you. He’ll slot you in as part of his routine.

The Man-child

He’s having his first mid-life crises, or in all likelihood, he’s onto his second…or even third. Terrified of growing old, this guy’s started exercising like a fiend and would ideally like to be dating someone much younger in the hope that her youthfulness might rub off, while he’s secretly taking selfies of his head, worrying about his bald spot.

He regales you with hilarious and captivating stories of his past – hot women he dated, crazy places he had sex, drugs he consumed in his youth, awesome gigs he went to, drunken nights of crazy fun. He’s still living in the past clinging to his glory days. He buys expensive toys – bicycles, watches, electronic gadgets, motorbikes, fast cars, boats or ski gear…but he probably won’t buy you dinner.

The man-child is usually boyishly charming and enthusiastic in the boudoir, but he can be as petulant and excitable as any teenager. He cancels plans at the last minute because he’s tired or can’t be bothered. He complains if he can’t wear converse high tops to a wedding. He owns more than one leather jacket…because he’s very cool. He may quit his job on a whim when the going gets tough, which is also a metaphor for how he deals with relationships. Quit when things get hard. Any expression of feelings or emotions is taken as a criticism because he’s going to view you like a parent…and he can’t stand authority. He’s all about sticking it to the man.

This rock star dresses from a genuinely impressive collection of band tees he’s been collecting since he was twenty. He’s usually hot and fun but not always reliable. Enjoy every moment while it lasts.

The Insane in the membrane guy

We’ve all met this guy – bitter and twisted about his ex, and every other bee-arch he’s had the misfortune to date apparently. He’s generally, but not always, an entitled middle aged white man. We women can’t be trusted and he’ll tell you in ten different ways why that is. He apparently knows more about you than you know about yourself, and who doesn’t just love some good ol’ fashioned mansplaining?

The internet has of course given rise to these sorts, as they now have a larger vehicle in which to drive their particular brand of crazy. I chatted to a guy on line – a Uni lecturer who seemed quite nice. The first time he called me, within five minutes he was aggressive and defensive and started to tell me who I was. Of course he had no idea, and when I explained calmly that the conversation was making me feel uncomfortable, he actually bellowed at me. Wow. I’m sure that approach is working for you dude. I hung up on him. He then sent a text to mansplain that if women “would just listen to him, they might learn something about themselves…”

I learnt something…how to block his number and how to set mine to private. Yeesh.

As the wonderful Iyanla Vanzant always says, “If you see crazy coming, cross the street.”

 

 

Scary Monsters and super creeps – #WhyamIsingle

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I’ve decided to start dating again. It’s a bold move but I’ve decided to put myself out there. I’m trying hard to not take it, or myself, too seriously and just see what the universe might have in store.

 You’ve been screwed over, and screwed up mentally about sex and it’s time to unscrew yourself by getting screwed!”

-Deep Kick Girl (to The Good Girl…aka me), just this week

Deep Kick Girl of course is right. I needed to get my mojo back…not necessarily by getting screwed, but by at least opening myself up to possibilities.  I’ve started meditating again, writing, reading and as spring arrives in Melbourne I’m looking forward to walking every day again.

So I’ve decided to head back to the on-line dating site where I met the Producer, because I know it and I met some nice people there when I was last single. I am also trialing a couple of sites that are new to me, which is netting some quite hilarious, and hair raising results.

Every single woman gets sick of people asking why you’re still single. Some smug long-term coupled up people tend to live in bubbles and have lost sight of how complicated the dating game can be.  Let me clarify. It’s not actually hard to meet someone. You can meet a dozen people tomorrow if you don’t care who they are. It’s not hard to hook up with someone I’m sure, if you’re just after sex. (I’ve received a number of offers but declined). All the power to you by the way. Each to their own. However, if you want to date someone with the possibility of long term partnering, it’s not so straight forward.

It’s not that single women are “fussy”. Why settle for second best? And honestly, if I’ve learnt anything by now, if someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time!

While I’ve actually chatted to some lovely people, I have to say that I have already had a number of bizarre and hair raising experiences in a short amount of time. If Captain America was living proof that good men exist in the world, some of the men I’ve encountered are sad reminders that for all the good, bad also exists. There are some total arseholes out there!

On the first site I joined, someone reached out to me via email. Skull Boy, as I now call him, could have sent me a free kiss but he jumped right in with an email, (which you have to pay for). Good looking (think Eric Bana look alike) and the ability to string a sentence together apparently doesn’t guarantee sane…or even normal! He reached out to tell me that he thought I had the most “perfectly formed skull” he had ever seen.

When I didn’t reply, he elaborated.

Skull Boy: You know when you see baby’s bums and they’re so cute, you want to bite them? That’s how I feel about your skull. It’s incredible. I want to bite it. I want to touch it, and run my fingers through your hair.

He did also go on to tell me that he was “trippin’ balls on pseudoephedrine and codeine ” and that his “cicadean rhythms” were out of wack.

I’m not sure if he was hoping to mount my perfectly shaped skull on a wall or shrink it down to hang from his rear view mirror. Who can say?! Needless to say I reported and blocked skull boy.

#whyamIsingle

I joined one particular free site at the suggestion of a friend. Within two days I was so inundated with messages that I felt completed overwhelmed. It took a millisecond to realise that I wasn’t being contacted because of my desirability. I was just fresh meat thrown into a dating pit. I’m pretty sure none of them read my profile and the majority of messages were carbon copied, such as “Hi”, or “how r u”, or “ur hot”…

Now, I don’t know about you but if you have to abbreviate the shortest of words, such are you and are, or if you can’t be bothered putting a sentence together, imagine how limited or lazy you are likely to be in a relationship! No thanks.

This particular site seemed to have a lot of rough diamonds, who didn’t care who I was, where I lived or if we had anything in common. Some made wild assumptions that I wouldn’t in any way be discerning! Some were left field. I mean surely there are specific sites for fetishists or kinky sex?

Mr 31: Hi. Are you a domme?

Me: Why on earth would you ask me that?

Mr 31: Coz you got that look about you and I need a dominatrix to punish me.

Me: Go away little boy

You have to laugh!

Or foot guy, who asked…no, begged, me to send him pictures of my feet. “Naked feet are so beautiful but if you are wearing heels, I’ll get excited…” Ummm!

Or the guy who just said “you into bondage?”  Well hi yourself!

Or this angelic fellow who fell from heaven just to say hello.

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Heavy sigh.  Did I put all fetishes welcome on my profile? No, I did not!

#whyamIsingle

Then there are the really classy guys who think women owe them something. The type of men who think, since they are middle aged and balding, that they are entitled to have women swoon at their feet with no effort on their part. The type of men who think that the very act of engaging you in conversation suddenly gives them rights over you. These are the misogynistic tools that are the scariest of all.

Like this charming guy, who simply didn’t like me saying no, even in the politest way. Sadly, there were several like him. I chose this one as an example to screenshot.

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Wow…I really let a good one go there! I’m a fuckwit indeed!

#whyamIsingle

Needless to say my journey with that dating site came to an abrupt end, even though through all the bottom feeders, occasionally someone nice would emerge. Sifting through the zombie apocalypse was too time consuming and a bit depressing really!

So then I joined the ever popular site which I was massively resistant because it’s got quite the reputation as a hook up site.I’m not a wombat who eats roots and leaves. I’m not looking for anything casual, but work colleagues convinced me it’s not just for hook ups (although, again if you’re into that, it absolutely an element of that).

I can understand the appeal. It’s easy and no one can tell when you swipe left for no, and if you swipe right for yes and so does the other person you are “matched” and can then chat. So it’s easy. The only problem is getting dating dyslexia and accidentally swiping right when you meant left! Doh! Or worse, seeing people you know! I saw my ex and of course swiped left (as I’m sure he did if he saw me, because that would be awkward if we Super-liked each other or got matched!).  As you sign up via Facebook, you can actually see who your match might know…also a little weird.  One guy asked me “So how do you know such-and-such”…weird.

Also what I noticed was a number of the same guys crop up on all the sites. One I saw on all three sites and matched with him on Tinder, where he said, “Well hello! We have to stop meeting like this…or do we?”  Hilarious.

There are some strange cats out there, and there needs to be some caution. As a woman that’s so crap that there has to be but these guys sadly are why we need feminism in the world! Still, I’ve chatted with enough lovely people to continue on the journey. I actually went on a date this week, but that’s a story for another day.

But in the meantime, now you might understand why some very awesome women are single!

Happy swiping!

 

 

Captain America…and the pieces of my heart 

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Leaving  is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog, change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size, a bathtub full of tea, a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past…you had to have him, and you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses..Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge, and you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand, heart like a four-poster bed, heart like a canvas, heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street…

– Frida Kahlo 

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I’m slowly navigating the realities of my single life.

Single.

It’s a word that rolls around my tongue like a the sting of lemon juice…bitter, yet familiar. When I first moved out of the home I shared with the Peoducer, I felt strong, proud and a little empowered. Then I didn’t.

Grief is a powerful force that one can run from, but you can’t hide. Grief will always find you in a bizarre game of emotional cat and mouse. You simply have to go through the process. One day at a time.

There have been tears. There has been so much heart break, denial and exhaustion. Above all, there has been deep sadness. I have grieved for a love lost. A man I loved fully and deeply. I have grieved for the life I hoped to build with him and loss of hope.

Damn,  I’ve felt it. I’ve worked  10 hour days and still felt it. I’ve been to gigs, to film festivals, to dinners and black tie events and still felt it. I flew to Sydney thanks to the generosity of an amazing girl friend who lives there and drank cocktails, walked 30 km in two days, and stood before magnificent Frida Kahlo paintings…and still I felt it. Oh, I have cursed my foolish poetic heart for feeling things so damn deeply. For daring to love someone when all indicators pointed to an almighty train wreck.

I have missed him in the oddest of moments and in more obvious times. He was in the building where I work perhaps half way through this ordeal. He told me with teary eyes that he missed my kids, my dog and he really (really) missed my car. My car?! I don’t even have a great car! He missed it all, the pieces of my life, and yet he never said he missed me. Not once.

He didn’t remember my birthday, or my son’s birthday, but in the same week he reached out to discuss cutting off Netflix and money.

These things in isolation didn’t surprise. I’ve known him after all. Was I expecting gentleness?  Not really. Was I thinking he would ever verbalize that I meant something and losing me was tough? No.

Yet it still hurts. No one wants to believe we are just a blip on the radar of another life shared. And share it I did with both feet in. Surely I made a mark on that heart, not just his bedpost? Surely he grieved too and missed me? Perhaps not. He’s already moved on to someone else.  It didn’t take long.

There were sounds in my head, little voices whispering. That I should go and this should end, Oh and I found myself listening

‘Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you…all I know is that I should 

– Missy Higgans (Where I stood) 

Weeks after I moved to my new life, I was asked out by someone. It was unexpected.   It’s hard to say if I was ready for such a thing to happen. I suspect not, but this quiet American had such a gentleness about him that I felt safe enough to at least join him for coffee.

Who could have known that a superhero might come flying into my life just like that? Captain America, as I have dubbed him, arrived like a bolt from the universe, squarely reminding me of what I felt starved of for the longest time. All the things I had sadly forgotten that I was deserving of, and that most people consider normal behaviours in relationships.

He opens doors -in restaurants and to his car. He insists on paying for dinner. He’s not interested in splitting the bill. He gently held my hand to walk me to my car. He walks beside me…yes, beside me…not 20 paces ahead as if he can’t be seen with me in public, or like I’m not worthy to stand in his space. He placed his hand on the small of my back to gently guide me through a crowd instead of running off to get the best view or the best seat without a second glance back.

He has a quiet disposition and a lovely laugh that puts others at ease.  My name sounds better rolling off his tongue. He is a gentleman in every sense. Respectful, gentle yet a cheeky glimmer in his ice blue eyes. Subtly confident with a healthy self esteem. I knew straight away he was no man-child.

It seemed odd to me that he listened attentively and asked many questions, genuinely interested in my life, my dreams, my hopes, the ebbs and flows of who I am and how I came to be me. I’m intrigued by his life, his passion for both Australia and America.

Captain America is a contradiction in some ways. A suit wearing senior executive who plays ice hockey and holds left wing political views. He talks with sadness at the drastic state of American politics, yet he’s apathetic about voting. He’s a dedicated father, kind, compassionate and generous with his laughter, and yet sadly, extremely time poor.

I navigated time with the Producer even though I lived with him, and I’m simply not able to do it again. It felt as if The producer put everything before me – gaming, reading, the dog, the laptop, iPad, his very secretive conversations on his phone with people I never knew and was never likely to know.

When the good Captain kissed me, it was a bit of a game changer. Something  inside of me relaxed. A toe curling,  hairs on the back of my neck type of kiss that was slow, passionate and lingering. I hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time.  Given freely like he had all the time in the world, and had no hang ups about what it might mean.  It’s hard to explain it but it felt safe.

And yet, although tempted, I didn’t go there. I never allowed it to get intimate. My integrity and self respect wouldn’t allow it.

The timing isn’t right. I’m a believer in letting my heart heal before I can jump ahead. For his part, the good Captain has his child almost full time and working for a US firm means lots of calls into the wee hours of the Australian night. He has carved out a life that doesn’t have room for another human. I suspect he’s done so to guard himself against getting hurt after his marriage ended. Who can blame him. He had trusted and been betrayed and beneath his superhero costume was a dinted heart. He told me he hadn’t thought he’d meet someone like me, that made him want to date. He certainly hasn’t been prepared to feel for someone,  but I need someone who has room in their life for me.

I like him and I’m grateful I’ve met him. It’s incredible to be reminded of all the things I value in a relationship. So I’ve asked him to remain friends. Should he find a way to make room in his life, I might gladly step in but I doubt he can right now.  I guess time will be the litmus test on that one.

What I know is, I’m not interested in casual. I want and deserve more than that. I’m just in a more evolved phase of my life than when I started dating after my marriage to the Taurus ended.

I hadn’t had sex with the producer for months (a lot of months) prior to leaving. I was more than willing but he simply didn’t hold any desire for me. He rejected my advances so many times…and it was a mind fuck. As a woman that’s the most unholy of emotional rejections.  Casual sex is easy for him. Not so much true emotional intimacy.

Yet I’m in no rush to jump in the sack with just anyone. I’m quite happy to wait for the real deal. And in truth the Producer almost robbed me of my inner goddess and my self esteem. Almost. Not quite. I never dreamed a man could do that to me. So I’m sewing the peices of me back together. No mean feat since I’m so crap at crafting. Let’s be straight. I am not a super model. Nor do I care, since he isn’t either. He has many flaws just as I do.

Yet he once told me sex with me was the best he’d ever had. I actually believe that was true. The sex at first was great. And then it simply disappeared, and left me feeling unwanted and undesirable. To hell with that. I’ll never settle for being treated less than again.

Captain America has reminded me that good men exist in the world. The universe threw him in my path for a reason. I’m ready for something mind bowing. I am deserving of an equal love, where my passions are equally met, where my time is a valued commodity shared with someone not afraid to tell me they love me and they miss me. An optimistic beautiful soul who is generous of spirit and knows my worth.

Stayed tuned. He’s out there somewhere.

On line Dating – a hedgehog, an octopus and kissing frogs 

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“When you see crazy coming, cross the street!” –   Iyanla Vanzant

 When I first threw my hat into the dating arena, I have to say that I’ve had my fair share of craziness walking down the proverbial street, and luckily I high-tailed it in the opposite direction. Initially when I was single, I met people (aka The Italian for example), face to face. You see them, they see you – there is an attraction and maybe chemistry. 

 Boy is that all blown out of the water though when you dip your toe into the parallel universe that is on-line dating!  I resisted the whole on-line dating deal for a time. I’d been living in a protective bubble, unaware of how slim the pickings were for many singles out there! 

Once I was single, I found out quickly.  Singles will already know this. From the men out there, some are already married, or in relationships, some are gay, some are confirmed bachelors and playing the field, some are dating women ten years their junior,  some want to have a baby even though they are heading for 50, some are emotionally scarred and some guys you simply don’t connect with. Can anyone say man drought? Who the hell was left to date? When a friend suggested I go on-line I decided to be open to the possibility. 

Firstly I needed to pick an on-line dating site. There are a lot of choices out there – around 250 internet dating sites in Australia exist.  I read some of their “success stories” and it all seemed like a good idea at the time. (This was prior to Tinder). 

I then created an online profile, which was daunting.  Clearly I blessed with the gift of the gab, but how do you market yourself to a potential love interest? What words can you use to completely sum up who you are, and stand out in a sea of profiles. I wanted to get the wording right so that I, heaven forbid, didn’t come across as sounding dateless or desperate, too wild or too conservative, too intelligent, or too vapid. This was harder than I thought. It just felt rather contrived.

So in the end, I just wanted to be as honest as I could. I added that I was looking for the right person and players need not apply. I mentioned in my profile that I had children up-front, and a dog. (I stopped short of saying I liked piña coladas and getting caught in the rain…). 

I tried to be friendly and witty, but it felt rather like I was applying for a want ad, rather than looking for a possible partner! 

Position Vacant: Girlfriend. Please enquire within. Please provide a current CV and attach a current photograph. 

  

I uploaded current selfies from my trusty smart phone (taken at just the right angle of course…hold that phone up high!) and hoped for the best. Hit send! At first I decided to make my “profile” visible to everyone on the site, which made me pretty nervous. What if someone I knew saw me on there? 

It’s estimated that more than 70% of Aussie singles are active on sites in search of friendships and partners. We live in an age of technology so it makes sense that more more dating sites are cropping up, with their own phone apps.

Initially I can say the intenet experience was a bit of an ego boost. I was inundated with lots messages and I was chuffed. 

Oh yeah, girl, you gots it goin’ on! 

Something started to occur to me. Some of these guys clearly hadn’t even read my profile! We had absolutely nothing in common! 

Some were a little creepy, some were crass or even disturbingly honest. A couple informed me they were married but looking for a good time.  What part of that do guys think would be remotely attractive when you’ve clearly stated you want the opposite? 

My unshakeable belief that dating was going to be easy started to waver. I realised that I had so many “hits” not because I was more in demand but simply because I was new to the site! (Cue deflated ego!). 

The very first meeting I had from the on-line gig was the Hedgehog.

He had a nice professional black and white picture, and he was, according to his profile successful and tall. Like me, he enjoyed galleries and museums.  He liked red wine and great books. He contacted me first via email on the site and he was charming. The emails went on for several weeks and then he asked if he could text me. I was intrigued at this point so of course I handed over my number. 

He consistently sent me lovely, engaging text messages. He wrote poetically. We decided to meet.

When I arrived I was a little distracted by a strange-looking guy hovering near the front doors of the eatery. Small, wiry, with an odd grin, he looked somewhat like a hedgehog.  I walked right on by, smiling politely and stopped dead when he said my name. 

 
Oh. My. God!

This could not be the guy?! Red Flag!! He was all excited and I kid you not, he was literally wringing his hands and sniggering. He jumped in to hug me. Oh shit! I was rendered speechless.

Things got worse when the Hedgehog pinned me into a booth seat so I couldn’t get out and decided that he could put his grubby little mitts on my thigh!  Alarm Bells!!!   I almost pushed him out of the way and ran to my car as fast as my spiky stilettos could carry me.  One valuable lesson learnt. Not all people are honest about themselves and not all pictures are accurate! I can never understand why anyone would put up a picture of themselves that wasn’t current. How naive of me.  Always speak on the phone before you meet! That was Rookie mistake 101.

 By date number two, I thought I was more prepared, and far more realistic. A very distinguished man (think Imran Khan in his finer days), contacted me and his profile was brilliant.  Of Indian descent, he was well educated, humorous, a parent of teenage children, well read, successful and articulate. 

On paper, this guy really had it all. We met for coffee somewhere very public and in daylight and he seemed quite lovely, and respectful. He asked me out for dinner. Nice.

He picked me up in his elite 4WD with the heated leather seats, but strangely decided to make a stop along the way and parked near Albert Park Lake (which is a man-made lake surrounded by park land).

 He insisted the detour was for the lovely view, but then suggested we climb into the back of his car! Because…heated seats! When I declined, (do I look sixteen?) he threw himself at me! I felt hands everywhere and he forced a kiss on me, pushing his tongue down my throat while I struggled and pushed him away! 

Damn Octopus! All hands and no substance!

I actually went home that night and blocked my profile and took a bit of a break, feeling quite distressed. I mean, did I have a neon sign hanging above my head that said “Please grope me”?

 

After a bit of a hiatus, I went back to the drawing board, updating my profile in an attempt to assert that I wasn’t a push over. I resumed the experience with my eyes wide open, a good dose of courage and a new set of rules for myself.

  1. Never email for too long. It’s easy to form an emotional response to a pen pal that may not be truly representative of the person.
  2. Always get their phone number early. Text and then call. Though not a guarantee, hearing a voice gives some indication of who they are, and if they have misrepresented themselves.
  3. Make the first meeting a quick coffee. Chemistry cannot be confirmed in a photograph, nor in carefully crafted and edited words. Coffee is quick, if you’re just not feeling it.
  4. Always tell a girlfriend where you are going, and who you are with  just in case! As women, it sucks that we have to worry about safety but realistically we do. 
  5. If you see red flags come up, trust your instincts and walk away!

  

Be prepared to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince!  Just be realistic, have lots of fun and be careful – there are great people in the world but there are also hedgehogs and octopuses! If you see them coming, cross the street! 

Keep your options open while you’re holding out for Mr. Exceptional, (why settle for less?) regardless of whether he’s out there in cyberspace or walking down the street.  Stay open to the possibility of love but remember you’re okay on your own. As it turns out, the Producer and I met on line. 

It’s possible to meet someone you fall in love with, but know that it’s a numbers game. What are your experiences with on line dating? 

Tinder – looking for love in all the right places?

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When I was a single chick, I was on a dating site. Like, who isn’t these days? While I have friends who find the whole concept difficult, the fact remains that we live in a time that makes it difficult to meet potential matches organically.

If you are in your late 30’s or beyond (I’m mid 40’s), it becomes an even narrower field. Night clubs are packed with much younger people, and if you are into younger guys, you might strike it rich.

I chose to be on RSVP and all in all, while initially I had some terrible experiences, for the most part it was ok. I met people I never would have met in my daily life. I met the Producer via RSVP. Had it not been for his profile that stood out on that dating site, I doubt I would have met him in the real world. There was a huge amount of luck involved too. There are so many dating sites and some people are on many.

I had a very short lived experience with another site also but went off it when I was inundated with offers of sex. Did you want to know my band first?!

Recently I was having dinner with some lovely people and one of the gorgeous writer chicks, who happened to be single, told me her dating app of choice was Tinder.

Oh how my eyes lit up! I was dying to have a look at how it works given that I have several friends who’ve been on it!

If you’re not aware, Tinder has a reputation (rightly or not) for being a quick hook up for sex site. It works on proximity and sends you potential matches who live close enough to you that you might go out together.

When she handed me the phone and told me up go for it, what instantly becomes apparent is that Tinder works on the premise of instant attraction.

When a photo of a potential match pops up, you swipe right for a “yes” and left for a “no “. Some photos are accompanied by a limited profile, but a lot are not! Like they didn’t really bother to add a profile.

For some it’s irrelevant if you like Pina coladas or getting caught in the rain…it’s more like “you’re cute, want to hook up?” I’m sure that is not true for all!

The Producer and I were having way too much fun swiping left and right – but mostly left giving the ridiculous amount of photos men put up with their dogs, or a group of mates (which one are you?), photos sans tops (ugh) or worse, photos where they have badly attempted to crop out a woman (probably an ex).

Seriously guys! If you are that lazy about Setting up a Tinder profile, you are not looking like a hot prospect!

There are approximately 50 million Tinder users world wide which is staggering. In our fast food, instant gratification society it seems to have touched a nerve with Gen Y’s…but also for people beyond their 30’s.

Being a feminist, I need to add that there’s been much controversy regarding the founders of Tinder, arguably the biggest hook up app ever invented, about a culture of misogyny.

Whitney Wolfe – a former head of marketing at Tinder – sued the company for sexual harassment and discrimination and logged a formal court complain that alleged she was actually a co-founder of Tinder and stripped of all credit by the two Silicon Valley uber dudes (Sean Rad and Justin Mateen) who have claimed it as their own. Mateen was suspended from the actually owners if the app – parent company IAC – pending investigations.

Wolfe’s claims led to further complaints that the Tinder working culture was geared towards men – that it was more like a uni fear party than a professional work environment. Surprising? Sadly no when you look at the app which is quite blatantly encouraging you to make choices solely on someone’s physical looks. These are two men who proudly posted on their Facebook pages that Urban Dictionary had coined the term “tinder sluts” to describe women who sleep with men they meet on Tinder.

Bah!! Give me strength!

Of course there are pros and cons (and no one is forcing you to join any dating sites, right?). I for one think why not if you are single and looking for some not too serious romance! There are so many smart phone dating app choices out there – why not give it a try?

The lovely writer chick who graciously let me make potential date selections has met a couple if interesting people through Tinder. As a single person, you can put yourself out there, or go out a lot and get social, or choose to stay single. All good choices depending on where you are at.

There’s no denying it’s quick and easy – just swipe left or right. You have lots of choices which is a bonus! I think if you’re ready for something more serious and you really are seeking a potential relationship, this may not be the answer to all your dreams!

But in the meantime, while there’s plenty to swipe left on, there may just be friends to be made – or at least some decent eye candy!

Waiting in the love queue…

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When we love, we strive to be better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything else arounds us becomes better too.
– Paulo Coelho

The Producer and I found a place! It’s official, we are moving in together in about a month. Shacking up! I’m really excited at the prospect of living with him! Though someone I work with asked if we’d be living in sin? Well, yes, I hope so I replied! Is that still a thing?!

Given that the new place is much smaller than my current place, I’ve got a lit of decluttering to do! I seriously need to let go of a lot of furniture. It’s long overdue! I stand to gain so much more in my life than anything I’m giving up. In a way it is a liberating shedding of my old life.

So as we embark on our new adventure together, I was recently chatting with a male friend who was bemoaning singledom. He’s not loving it.

In the course of the conversation though I realised this. The perpetual struggle to find love when you’ve decided you’re ready is as challenging for men as it is women.

Granted, this guy does seem to have a very long wish list from which he seems not to ever deter from. He’s in his early 50’s, and has been internet dating for several years.

He’s meeting women, sure. But I feel he’s a pattern dater. He meets the same kinds of women each time. Dates them with great enthusiasm And then looks for flaws. Which of course he’ll always find. We all have them.

She’s attractive. Tick. She’s got a sense of humour. Tick. She likes music. Tick. The sex is great. Tick. Oh wait..:this one had kids. (Even though he also has kids, that’s a minus for him). This one is a bit overweight. (Great girl but….). This one isn’t financial (I have property and I’ve been stung in my divorce…). This one lives too far away. This one seems too needy. You get the drift.

I would never suggest someone settle for anything less than their ideal person. Ever. In this case though I have to wonder if he even knows what he wants. I mean he’s a nice guy and he’s fun, but he has flaws also. He seems to think he’s a great catch.

For the right person no doubt he would be but in the end he’s deeply scarred from a broken marriage. His ex wife had an affair. I don’t think that’s easy to recover from, but it’s possible if you do the work.

Instead he continues to date a string if women (one at a time). He dates vulnerable needy women (he has a saviour complex). They believe it’s developing into a relationship and then he starts searching for something wrong. Really what he’s doing is dating against his own type. While he really wants a strong and independent woman with her shit together, he’s not ready to deal with anything real.

I think he’s terrified of emotional intimacy. I think a lot of people are. Sexual intimacy for some is easy. Anyone can have sex and get caught up in the high of abandoning themselves to a moment of pleasure.

Emotional intimacy requires a leap of faith. It requires enough trust to open your soul to another person and allow them to see your vulnerability. That’s not easy for anyone but it’s harder for some than others.

He is like most of us suffering from fear. The fear of getting hurt again if you trust another. In his case, the fear of being betrayed.

He wonders why he’s attracting the “wrong women”.
Like all of us, dude, you attract to you what you can deal with at the time. He’s attracting women who are still hurt from previous relationships. He attracts women who are scared of being on their own. I think deep down he’s attracting mirror images of himself. He’s not liking the reflection. He is dating a row of women carrying their own baggage because he hasn’t let go of his own.

The same applies the other way too. Take for example a gorgeous friend of mine who has been single for some time, but was now ready for love. One night out with single girlfriends at a singles event, she met a guy. They chatted. The next day they met for breakfast and that was it.

They have seriously been together for several months and enjoying every moment. She looks incredibly happy. Sometimes when you’re ready and they’re ready – bam! It just happens! They live on opposite sides of town. She has teenage children. He has no children. She’s in banking. He’s a tradie. All of that hasn’t made an ounce of difference. I’m is happy for her. She was open to opportunities and bingo. (Yes she’s had a journey along the way too).

We are all braver than we think. Anyone who has been hurt in a relationship but dares to love again is proof of that.

In the mean time the dating continues. And lessons get learnt along the way. Through dating, you learn so much about yourself. I know I did. So much. I figured out who I was. I healed. I found out things about myself I didn’t know. I met some great people. I learnt what I didn’t want, and eventually what I did.

I know dating is sometimes tough but I honestly believe it’s a valuable part of the journey.

You’re just not all that – dating a pretender

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The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her.
– Bob Marley

Anyone who is bordering on my age (that’s 45! I’m getting used to saying that!) who has thrown their hat into the dating arena in the past few years may have come across a pretender.

I’m not talking about the recently single guy who is just dipping his toe tentatively into the dating pool, trying to figure out what he wants and needs. No.

I’m talking about that guy. The one who starts off being elusive or mysterious but then somehow becomes intertwined in your life – pretending he’s going to be great relationship material when in fact he’s a career single. His mantra is “I’m not going down that path again – I’m single and determined to stay that way”.

We’ve all met that dude – or one very similar, right? Ugh. One of my dear friends recently walked away from one of this ilk. She had given him a great run. A huge amount of time and many opportunities to step up. She had been patient and undemanding, kind and considerate. It takes courage to walk away from someone you care about, when you have invested so much of yourself into what you believed would become more.

I’m incredibly proud of her for finding the courage to do so. In the end her own self worth wouldn’t let her continue on the roller coaster of uncertainty. Never sacrifice your dignity for your destiny, right?

He liked spending time with her which was obvious. Why wouldn’t he? She’s just good people! A great sense of humour, attractive, supportive, encouraging and knows her way around the kitchen.

But here’s the thing about the pretender. While he was fully present when he was with her (engaging, affectionate and sharing in-jokes), I suspect the moment he was out the door he was self absorbed and consumed by other things.

This particular pretender was hauling a huge amount of luggage behind him actually. Luggage he refused to put in storage or donate to good will! (And by that of course I mean he simply buried it rather than dealt with it).

Some people like to hold on to the baggage, I’m convinced. As if somehow being a victim of your past experiences keeps you safe from growth and happiness. It keeps him safe from being vulnerable…and stepping into anything new and worthwhile.

The thing though that makes them a pretender is not the “I don’t want a relationship” stance. (There are a lot of commitment phobic men out there who are honest about their single status). That’s their prerogative. It’s the letting someone else have hope in the belief that there’s a possibility you will step in.

Dude, that’s just not cool! It’s just poor form. It’s playing with someone else’s heart. It’s hurtful and disrespectful.

If you don’t want to be in a relationship, why pretend you could and might go down that path? We are all grown ups. If you just want it to be about sex then say so. Not everyone is going to be happy with being your friend with benefits, true, but at least you’d have integrity and the other person could make an informed choice.

While you are investing of yourself, waiting for the phone to ring or hoping to see him, the pretender is leaving himself wide open to other possibilities and opportunities.

Here’s the kicker. It has nothing to do with you. You, my dear, are enough. He simply doesn’t want a relationship regardless of how amazing you are. He will refuse to see the possibilities, limited by his beliefs that singledom is the way to go.

It’s easy to believe the pretender wants a relationship. Deep down I’m sure they want you to believe it. They like the idea of you being monogamous with them, even if they are not with you. Of course.

They like the perks of having you care for them and the fact that you will stroke their ego. They love the awesome sex. They love the effort you put in. They love knowing you are there for them, and they can confide in you. All the perks of a relationship without actually having a relationship.

But the thing is dude-pretender – you’re just not all that. You’re just a shadow of who you could be if you were able to be open and real, and let someone else into your life. The face you show the world is not your authentic self and there’s something quite sad and lonely about a person who can’t let anyone else in.

In the end, they are not committing and nor do they have any intention of doing so. It’s not you, it’s them! All that baggage leaves little room for someone else to get close, lest you trip over all the suitcases.

Move on I say! Don’t waste your valuable time and energy on pretenders. It’s not easy to meet the right one, granted, but hanging out with a pretender isn’t the answer either. The pretender simply stands in the way of other brilliant people out there who might just be looking for someone like you. You are worth so much more.

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