Guidelines

As some of my more "frequent" readers would be aware, it's been a while since I've blogged.

There are reasons for that.
Mostly because there has been something a little more permanent in my life.
I'm not going to go into it here and now, because it certainly, if not more than, deserves at least a post of its own.

However, now comes the part where dating is an option, or a necessity, right now.  This brings me back to an old post I meant to write many months ago.  I had drafted some of it, so I'll reflect and use this opportunity to cast back and learn from my own advice :)


A while back, I took a girlfriend of mine out to The Playground with me as she was keen to get 'back into the action'. She asked how I manage to start conversations, how I interact with a stranger in a bar.  We talked about the best places to sit, and conversely, the worst... She noted "There are so many rules".

Guidelines - they're just guidelines...

These are the snippets I live by in bars. Take it or leave it. It's not rocket science or ground breaking stuff, but it works:

• Always do a lap of the bar before you get your first drink. This way you can work out the best real estate. 
• Don't put yourself into a corner.  If someone creepy comes along, it makes it harder to get away.
• If you see someone you want to talk to I find the trick is not to cramp their style by plonking yourself down next to them.  Rather, find a spot where you/they are clearly visible, make eye contact, hold it, smile, THEN look away.  Do this two, or three times max, but over time.  If he/she doesn't hold your eye contact, they're not interested, move on.
• If you're in a conversation and it's dull, move on, but no need to be rude about it. (You never know, his gorgeous friend might show up later!)
• If he buys you a drink and you're genuinely interested in the guy (or gal) then reciprocate, buy him (or her) the next drink. If not, don't let him buy you more than one.  Be polite, say thanks, and move on.
• If you decide to go home with your new found friend, he (or she) is more than likely going to expect sex. You can do dating with sex later on, but you cannot do sex with dating later on. It just does not work. (See The Kid)

Some bonus pointers - but this is merely etiquette:

• Keep politics, religion and money out of the conversation.  
• If you don't know, don't pretend.
• Be interesting, funny always helps.   Keep it light. Don't exclude anyone from the conversation, particularly, don't focus only on the person you're interested in...

Whilst this goes against everything feminists fight for... If you wear a low cut top that shows off how great your potential nursing capability is, then expect a guy to look. Lets be realistic here: Men Like Boobs. If you put them out there, they'll look. Don't whinge about it like its new news afterwards.  

OK, blatant staring is probably a little OTT, you might want to move on and find someone a little more subtle at that point.


Like I said, these are not rules, they are merely guidelines.

The Old Man

I have a thing for accents. I'm sure we've covered this before.
I'm not sure if it's the mystery, the unknown, the fact that it's something different to the norm, the excitement. I think you get the gist?
I'd recently taken a trip to New York. The myriad of accents in the States is like heaven to me.

I digress. I went with a girlfriend to the ol' Playground & was in a particularly mischivious mood. We parked ourselves at a large table, and were enjoying the scenery when the gentleman across the table caught my ear with his thick, brash Scottish accent.

He was chatting, at that point, to two young ladies who were as taken by this Old Man as I was. So I flashed him one of the cheekiest, best grins I had, threw in a wink for good measure, and went back to my conversation.

After a little while, the lovely Scot decided to join us for a drink. Now, I understand where the saying "the grass is always greener" comes from. Whilst listening to this dashing man was quite the pleasure, the content of the conversation was somewhat lacking to say the least. Rather, after a single drink it ended, rather abruptly, after he suggested we "head back to mine for the night" considering his wife still lived with him.

I've come to hear this tale time & time again, of the heart broken man, who needs to be cared for, who's (ex) wife has damaged and broken him (but of course still lives in his home). It's boring. Unimaginative. Dull. And put plainly, I'm just not that dumb!

On being Claire

I've never worked in the city before.  I've never wanted to, nor did I envy those who did. I do drink in the city though. I love the place. Sydney city is beautiful.

I now have the luxury of working, for a short stint, right on Circular Quay.  For those of you who have never seen the sun hit the sails of Sydney's Opera House, you must make the trip.  If you have not walked across the harbour bridge and seen the glisten of the harbour on a spring day, you must make the effort to do so.  If you have not wandered the bay of the botanic gardens...

I do this walk a few times a week, it's the luxury of working in the city, amongst the people who bustle around like ants, their heads in blackberries, shuffling their feet along.  Then there's me, chin in the air, eyes lit up like a child, absorbing these glorious sights, and the smells of spring.

There's a lane way out the back of where I work, a little dead end street, and at the corner in this lane way there is a tall bench with bar stools. The thing that grabs me particularly about this spot though, is the huge speakers installed overhead.  Let me paint the picture if I may. The bench sits in front of a large, curved red-brick wall. There are no windows in the wall, which stands maybe four meters tall.  There is always rubbish on the bench, left overs from lunch, so I know it is occupied at some point during the day. It is clean in the morning en route to work.  But at the end of every day, as I trundle off up the hill to catch the bus, from these speakers you can hear War of the Worlds, or some other narrative, blaring at immense volume from these over sized speakers.

I find this fascinating. The deep voice narrative to an empty corridor, adamantly finishing his tale.

But my trip home gets even more interesting that this, as when I get to the stairs at the top of the lane way, from time to time there are one or two smokers loitering outside the building that connects to ours.The first time I saw him standing there I had to double take. I looked back a second time, like a Cheshire cat, and grinned, as standing there, outside his place of employ, taking his smoko was none other than the Rollercoaster Designer.

I see him standing there from time to time, and he looks back at me with a vague recollection of some type, but he has no idea that I am Claire, with or without the e.

The Shark

I went to the Playground with work people again on this particular Thursday.  As we got there, I did the usual lap around the bar to establish the best place to sit, and what kind of talent we had in the bar this evening. As I did, I saw the most dashing man.
Now, Thursday nights in this establishment are known as Suit Night. This particular man however stood out from the crowd for a few reasons: He was rather tall. He had the most amazing eyes. He was in jeans, a t-shirt and a beanie (I have a thing for beanie-wearing men!). And this man had a smile that could light up the entire room.

As I walked past, I kept eye contact, smiled, and walked on by. As I completed my lap, my lovely Blond Girlfriend (affectionately know as Cougar 1) asked whether there was anything worthwhile around. I relayed my amazement at The Shark, and she wanted to see such a thing for herself, so she took me by the arm and off we went again, drink in hand.

As we passed by the second time (this was within the space of five minutes mind you) I made eye contact again, and grinned at him unashamedly. As I passed him by he took a hold at my arm, telling me that I didn't get to look at him like that and just keep walking. So C1 and I stopped, introduced ourselves, and settled in for a while.

My usual topic of conversation at this point is around occupation, it's an easy ice-breaker. But as soon as the question had slipped passed my lips, I immediately retracted it. He looked at me, slightly baffled. I responded with something along the lines of "I really am not fussed with what you do for a living, so long as what you do makes you happy". And that was that.

For once in my life my nonchalance paid off. He was so impressed that I didn't care about his vocation, even more so, we made a pact to talk about anything but work. And it was refreshing. It was so nice to not have someone grill me on what I do for a living, and the attitudes that usually correspond with my vocation.

We spend the rest of the night drinking and talking. I left at about 1. He kissed me goodnight and put me in a taxi.

We met up for a couple of dates after that.  We went and played some pool, drank some cider. We went for dinner at his local Thai, a nice intimate place. It was a great night. These times we went out he held my hand, kissed me every now and then, particularly when he bid me farewell. Then we went to the Botanical Gardens, hung out for a day.  It was a great laid back day. And then, as I dropped him home, he kissed me on the cheek.  Hmmm.

So, I took the hint, I backed off. But he persisted with catching up, going down to the pub and playing pool and drinking cider (favourite past time of mine thanks to The Kid). But the affection had definitely backed down to 'mates' status.  I learnt a lot about him in this time though. I learnt that he excelled to professional snooker level at the age of 9. He'd left school and played snooker his entire life.  It's all he knew. He worked a 'normal' job, but never an office job, but he loved nothing more than to hustle.

The one thing that I kept from The Shark the entire time was that I was a mum. He lived this carefree lifestyle that was so far from my life, so contrasted from everything I knew, I didn't know how to bring it into the conversation. I dropped hints, suggesting that there were parts of my life that were so different to the parts that he saw.

He liked my high energy levels, and in contrast, I loved spending time with him for his calming nature. I think we fed off each other.  After spending a chunk of time at his place, I finally invited him over for dinner. Cooked him my famous Spaghetti Bolognese. My eight year olds bike was on the front veranda when we walked into the house. He said "nice bike" and just kept walking. It wasn't until after about a half hour when he saw my five year olds reading words written on the glass door that he asked about them. I pointed out the fridge (covered in drawing and certificates from school). Then the penny dropped. He simply responded "Oh, so you're a mum". And that was it.

The amount of times now that we've spend days together drinking wine and dancing around the lounge room in the comfort and ease of each others' company still baffles me to this day. We spend time together and he never seems to want it to end, often asking if I can stay a bit longer. I can honestly say I find it hard to leave. Spending time with him is easy. But we're mates now. That's what we are, and that's what we'll be. I'm not sure what happened to get us from 'dating' to mates, I'm not even sure that we'll ever have that conversation, but what I have now is an amazing person in my life that I wouldn't trade for the world.

And it sure is nice that he's not trying to get in my pants ;)

The Canadian

Probably one of the most uneventful dates I've ever had.

We met for a drink in North Sydney. The conversation was easy enough.
Work was what we had in common. Both working in the IT Industry gave us plenty to discuss.
We decided to kick on for dinner - at his favourite little Thai place in Kirribilli. He had obviously eaten there a lot because the wait staff who could barely speak a word of English knew him by name.  The food was great.

I dropped him back to his place, as he had walked (obviously planning on drinking a lot). He lived right in front of the Harbour Bridge, the most amazing view you'll see (which I saw from the street only).

He kissed me goodnight and we both knew that was done there and then. The most riveting thing about that man was his accent, but surely that would have worn thin!

The Pilot

One of my favourites. Even still now after the guy gives me the heebie-geebies, in hindsight, he did so well at the beginning.

The Pilot was exactly that, a domestic airline captain. Sexy. You should see the pictures in uniform.
We started over email exchange.

Pilots have to re-sit a set of exams every six months to ensure that they're still fit to fly.  He was in the middle of studying for these exams when we started our email exchange.  Therefore, he was buying himself time.
For every 'decent' email exchange that occurred, we traded a phone number digit.  This made for an intriguing banter, sparked my attention, and had me chomping at the bit.  It was creative, and kept me at arms length.  He was playing a game, he was in control, and this, to me, is incredibly attractive.
The email exchange was limited to about one per day. Some days, if a photo was emailed, then two digits would be exchanged.  It took about a week to get a phone number. Like I mentioned previously this made for an engaging liaison; a "you had me at hello" moment.

My final email to him was a sole image; a homemade cup of coffee. It scored me the last digit of his phone number. It also scored me dinner.

I picked him up from his place. He'd booked and organised dinner locally. We had a glass of wine, then headed out for dinner. The chemistry was definitely there. All the email flirting that had gone on was also there in the flesh, which was a relief.

As we walked into the restaurant - a trendy Japanese place, I saw a friend of mine who I simply adore. He was gracious, went and checked on our booking, allowing me a quick hello with this friend of mine.  

Dinner was fantastic.  He insisted on footing the bill.  The conversation was easy. I dropped him back at his place and he invited me in for a glass of red.  I obliged.  As one started to look like three, I commented that I was going to have to stop drinking as I was driving for the night. 

He (as a true gentleman would of course) offered me a bed for the night.

I (as a lady would of course) take him up on his offer.  OK, so this is NOT how a lady should act.  Had I gone home I believe things would have gone differently.  However, for a man who spends his life with stewardesses, I also never believed that this had've been a long term option. Wanted it to be, it suited my lifestyle perfectly. Someone who's away half the time. One cannot smother when one is away! He was suave, funny, kind - he ticked all the right boxes, but he also came across (probably as I do) like he does this all the time.

I stayed the night.  I slept with him, and got to somewhere between second and third base (I've never been entirely clear on this one). It was nice waking up next to him the next morning.

We went out for breakfast. Around mid morning, I called it and toddled off home.  There were no "we should do this again" or "I'll call you soon" remarks.  Nor was it uncomfortable.

We have texted, from time to time, but we've never caught up again. Do I mind? No, not really. It becomes water off a ducks back after a while.  I think, once there is a man who really catches my eye, who knocks my socks off and blows me away, that it might start to matter.  I'm still waiting for that day to happen - clearly... as I still have many a blog post to write...

The Kid

I don't date younger men. At (nearly) 30, I find that - yes whilst being a broad generalisation - men mature later, therefore you're best off to date an older man.
I take this to the extreme and prefer the 32-44 bracket. Don't ask me where the number 44 came from - but 45 seems too old.

Every rule has its exception, and, every rule should be broken!

I met The Kid online.  He initiated, and insisted.  I was impressed by his perseverance.  Even when I knocked him back saying he was too young.

We met up at the pub.  I now blame him for my cider habit.  He was gorgeous. And incredibly fit. We played a couple of games of pool, then went our separate ways.

We met up again, a week or so later at The London.  We drank cider all night. He was nervous, it was sweet.
The night got messy, as it does when you go out drinking with a 23 year old.  We did a few of the bars in Balmain, until it was closing time.
It was late. I was drunk.  He was drunk-er.
We BOTH got in a cab and ended up at my place.

This ended in sex. Quick sex. Very quick sex.
Quick sex is not satisfying sex.  But sex with a 23 year old is fun, if nothing else.
The next morning, I dropped him back to his car. He was worried about me dropping him home as he was afraid his parents might ask where he'd been.

We had a fun night.  It was definitely enjoyable.  I did expect a 23 year old to have a fantastic stamina though.

When The Kid wanted to hook up again, dinner was out of the question.  For a starters, there wouldn't have been enough conversation commonality to make dinner comfortable.  Secondly: Date, or Sex. But not Sex, then Dating.
So instead of either, we flirted via text (so very 23yo of me!).

Then, one Thursday afternoon, I was off work, sitting at home in my trackies (a very good look) and got a usually flirtatious message out of the blue. So I replied with a "My place, 20 minutes". Without a word of a lie, 15 minutes later The Kid was on my doorstep.

He was smooth. He was polite. From the minute he got here he said hello, gave me a polite kiss on the lips, sat himself down and started to unlace his shoes.  I apologised for being in trackies, that I should have changed.  He asked why I would bother changing, when I was about to take them off anyway. He showed himself into my bedroom and started to take off his work clothes.

The sex was as I remembered it.  Short and sweet.
He left within a half hour of getting here. He was, again, polite about doing so, didn't waste time, wasn't rude about leaving, just got dressed, kissed me goodbye, said he hoped we could do it again soon, and went on his way.

We didn't do it again.  He moved overseas to play Rugby.  He texted me some, before he left.  He said he was hoping to catch up 'one last time' before he went.   He left on short notice though, and therefore, time unfortunately didn't permit.

Two things that I've learnt from this though, which has been reinforced since.
1. You can't do Sex, then Dating. It just doesn't work.  It confuses the excellent tension that you get pre-sex when you are dating.  You can't flip that. Everything gets all topsy-turvy.
2. Sex is fundamental. Maybe, with time, you can work things through. I'm not saying that The Kid would have been a write-off from a relationship perspective based on his bedroom performance. That's a whole separate blog right there, however, if you're going to do the whole one night stand/fuckbuddy thing - you need to be good. Not necessarily even great - but good as at least a starting point!

The Safe Guy

I met The Safe Guy at The London the day that this whole 'blog came into creation.

It was lunch with the Girls, down in Balmain, and I'd been telling them the story of 39. They were laughing at my ability to find myself in all kinds of situations with men of various natures, and I was giving them a run down of the latest shenanigans. 

As we're sitting at a table in the pub, I had one of The Girls on either side of me, and we were up against a wall, looking out into the pub, watching pub-crawl groups come and go, guys with their puppies in the bar (one of the great things about The London is that it's dog friendly, this in itself is a great pick up opportunity!).

We're sitting, chatting about this and that, and over wanders a dashing looking man who introduces himself. He explains that he and his mates are having a party upstairs, but it's dull and boring, and would be so much more entertaining if we would join them.

I declined, explaining that Girlfriend's husband was on his way to pick us up. He then asks me if my husband was coming too.  Smooth.  I explained that I didn't have a husband. We chatted, phone numbers were exchanged.  We went our separate ways.

I never met up with him but he called on several occasions, and when he did, this guy had a really odd habit, one worth noting. One I would love feedback on.
Every time he called and wanted to catch up, be it for dinner, drinks, coffee, he was always insistent that I "bring a single friend".  He, too, was going to bring a friend, but a first 'date' as a random pick up, and as a double date... this was just all too complex, therefore it never happened.

What continuously perplexed me though was this:
Was it that he thought it would be more comfortable with twice the amount of people?
Did he think he was doubling the odds? i.e. maybe my mate was going to be a better option?
Was he uncomfortable about meeting up with a stranger? Although he was the one who continually pushed.
Did he think he was going to get an orgy out of it? Is that seriously even an option?

Did he think I was a potential serial killer and therefore needed witnesses?

Am I over thinking it?

Either way, I guess I'll never know now...

39 & 36

I went out with a whole lot of work people one night. We went to the prestigious Ivy Bar.
I don't mind the Ivy, but there are five bars to choose from, but choosing the wrong one can end up with a dull evening.
The Pool Bar upstairs generally won't take people in in large groups. If you're with a couple of pretty girls, dressed nicely though, you're in without a second glance.
The place is gorgeous. The people are gorgeous. The staff are gorgeous.  It's actually quite sickening. But it's a nice bar.  The Change Rooms downstairs from the Pool Bar have little beds, sometimes curtained off...
It's an easy place to be, never pay for a drink, if you're into that kind of thing.

There were too many of us to get into the Pool Bar, and we headed to my favourite Playground instead.
This was, of course, quite conflicting for me; Play and Work, both in the same place... Play won out.

We do our lap of the bar (I'll come to explain this in the Guidelines) and settle ourselves down in my favourite spot at the bar. I am with a darling friend of mine from work at this point, a very very camp friend of mine, and we were at the bar sitting quite close together, scoping out all the decent men in the bar.

Sitting about a half dozen people up from us at the bar is a very attractive man, with a girl on each side.  He has about an inch of beer left in the bottom of his glass and he looks a tad bored. 
It's hard, here, to explain the look of these girls without sounding somewhat judgemental, because that is what I'm being - I judged them on first appearance... And the only word that comes to mind is, well, skanky... This is a bar usually full of suits, and these girls were in micro-minis with VPLs, and faux-leather... So not-pretty.

As I'm buying myself and my friend a drink, I ask the bartender to replace this mans beer. This is done, he looks over slightly confused, I raise my glass, cheers him, look away and go back to my conversation... and place a bet with my friend as to how long it's going to take him to walk over.

After five minutes, my new friend wanders over, but, seeing me sitting very closely to my male friend at the bar, stammers a "thank you for the beer", and backs away. My friend scoots off to find the rest of our colleagues, and I smile at my new friend, and explain that a girl is always safe with a gay friend at the bar.

We get to talking and he's a 39 year old man from Chicago, over here on a sabbatical.
American accents are sexy. Most would disagree, but they make me weak at the knees. I found this particularly entertaining, because I'd been message swapping with a guy from Chicago who'd been living in Sydney for a few years, over internet dating.

So I ask 39, what's a guy like him doing in a bar like this... by himself. He explains that he was with his little brother, but his brother had to go meet up with a girl on a date... You see... he's been doing this internet dating thing.

Of all the bars on all the nights in all the world... chances were I couldn't have randomly picked the one guy who's brother I'd been chatting up online.

We integrated with my work mates, got to chatting, and 39 asked if I wouldn't mind texting his brother to let him know that he was still in the bar (no mobile here in Aus). He replied saying he was five minutes away.
The second he walked into the bar I spotted him. Undeniably. What are the odds do you think?
This website boasts of over 350K+ Sydney based singles. At a half, 175,000 men, and I end up chatting up his brother?!

I said nothing. 39 introduced us.  He asked me if we'd met before, said he recognised me from somewhere (funny that). I changed the subject, asked him how his date went, and he rambled on about her being a crack-whore. Then he twigged (hopefully not from the crack-whore comment).
What was most distressing at this point, as it all unfolded there at the bar (workmates present), was the look on 39's face as the groundwork unravelled before him.  He turned around and walked away.

Little Brother aka 36, insisted that I go and sort it with 39. I took his advice, found him at the bar, and somehow managed to explain that I'd been tuning his little brother on a website. 36 left. 39 and I had a few more drinks and at about 2am it was time to leave.  I ended up back at 39's place, which actually ended up being 36's place... Hmmm.

The rest of the night was average, we were both pretty drunk and I think top of my agenda was sleep...
39 was playing golf the next morning, so we were up at 6. He got up, thinking I was still sleeping, and through the paper-thin walls I heard the following conversation:
36: How did your night end up?
39: Fun, good clean fun. Yours?
36: Quiet, I called it.
39: Oh really? We thought you brought someone home with you...
36: So, are you going to see her again? Dinner is on tonight at The Victoria Rooms. I'll write it down and you can pass it on.
(36: Exit stage left)

He brings me a glass of water. He kisses me good morning. I pretend to wake up. I mumble something about the time and having to get to work. The last thing I'm wanting right now is a dinner invite - not that I'm presuming to get one - but I don't need that kind of awkward at 6am. I get dressed whilst he's in the shower, and after he's out of the shower, say a quick goodbye and drop him my card whilst he's still in a towel.


A couple of hours later, I bounce into work only to be greeted with grins from my colleagues and expectations of stories... I try to relay what on earth went on, only to have to explain it as I have above, 39... and his brother, 36.

About a week later (after 39 had gone back to the states) I get a text message, from 36... just saying hello...

Template

As promised - the Template - the priceless email I received that is now used as my basis for "it's not you, it's me..."

I've left this as close to the original email as possible - it's too priceless to modify.

You get the gist, and of course needs to be modified for each circumstance, but it's now a great Template, has been used for such instances as The Gardener, and soon, the Baker.




Hi,

Sorry to not write to you sooner, it's been a busy wknd/week, just got back from Brissie, ha, like that's an excuse....

It's been so great to meet and get to know you, and while I'm not exactly sure what i'm looking for I have some ideas, and you're a great catch, there are so many likable qualities to you, I admire your determination, strength, hope, intelligence, sense of humour and plans for the future, you're pretty (and drive a nice car!)

I had fun meeting you and enjoyed your company, the similarities of our situations are almost unbelievable and it's tempting to catch up again..
I think though that I've not been "on the scene for long" I need to meet a few more girls before I know what I really want, try to get it right this time ;) not to mention the career choice I will have to make in the next few weeks! Bout the only thing i'm sure of is whether I'm an Arthur or Martha!

So for the time being I probably want to cool it and just see what happens
I'm not sure where you're at but wish you all the best, in case we don't catch up in the future
And who knows neighbour, might see you round the traps!

Oh yeah, Kept meaning to ask you about that tongue stud.... what's that about?
xx The Quiet One.




So there you have it - adapt at will for those of you who might find it useful - best "break up" email I've ever had ;) (considering we were hardly dating!)

The Osteo

The final of my four dates on The Weekend was with The Osteo.
We'd emailed, chatted on the phone, and I was very much looking forward to this date.

We went to Milsons Point for Brunch on the Sunday, and I ended up picking him up on the way there.  I actually like starting a date this way, as there is an instant distraction; you have to focus on driving rather than focus on your date. It does make for a great ice-breaker.

We went to Lavender Blue for brunch, they do a good brunch there, and it was lovely. He was a very handsome man, and entertaining to boot. He told stories of his flat-mates, how one of them lived off vegemite toast, how the other was needy. He was funny and witty. This appeals to me above all else.

When brunch was over he asked if I wanted to head over the road for a cheeky bevvie. It was at this point after midday, so one wouldn't hurt. I was excited at this point to discover that the Cricket had started, so we watched the game for a while whilst enjoying a nice glass of white, chatting away about the Cricket.  It was a great afternoon, laid back, easy, the way I'd choose to spend the day with any friend had I the choice.

I dropped him home and upon doing so he said that he'd really like to catch up again, that he'd enjoyed himself so much, and when I was free next.   I had two nights that week free, Monday night and Thursday night.  He responded that he knew that it wasn't following normal dating 'protocol' but that he'd love to catch up again the next night, even though it was so soon. He'd mentioned that he had a family lunch, so I suggested he see how his lunch go and touch base with me in the afternoon, but I'd definitely like to catch up again.

I heard from him the next day, later in the afternoon, and he was still with his family so I suggested maybe Thursday would suit better. He agreed.

Come Wednesday he bailed out of Thursday, saying he thought I was a great chick, that I had a lot to offer, that he'd really enjoyed the Sunday, but that he didn't want to meet up again.
I'll be honest - as that's the idea here - I was gutted. But on reflection, I'm glad he was so truthful, because meeting up a second time would have been misleading.


So, an entire weekend full of dates. Two got no further than first date. Two did, but not by much... At least it was compressed... I now understand why people do it in six minutes. I haven't tried the conventional speed-dating scene yet. But understand now why I think it's a good idea...

The Gardener

I was excited about this one. We'd exchanged a few emails, chatted on the phone, and he was lovely, and most attentive.

We met at the Town Hall over a lemonade before dinner in Balmain on the Saturday of The Weekend.  I joked around with the bartender, talking whilst I waited for him, about going easy on the lemonade, but The Gardener didn't find it so funny when he got there.

Dinner was nice (see The Ambulance Chaser).
He was nice. Really nice.
Cricket was this guys life. This works well for me - I love the cricket, and good thing too, otherwise we wouldn't have had a thing to discuss. Except maybe the dog.

He was a placid fellow. Nice, oh, so nice.

He bought John Butler tickets for second date on a whim based on a random comment I made about liking a song... I couldn't make it that night, nor could I cancel the commitment I had.  He went anyway... on his own.

We did make date #2. He wouldn't eat seafood, chinese, (actually make that asian food of any type), or anything spicy. Basically, the guy lived on pasta.
We had a nice evening.
He dropped me home, even snuck in a kiss, and I remembered what it was like to have someone to come home with... but that faded as soon as it appeared as I got my keys, wished him farewell, and headed to bed.

I remember my neighbour telling me, as The Gardener has picked me up "You're going to eat him alive".  She was right, I would have.

I remember emailing him, using The Template to end it. He sent me back a sweet, but slightly broken email. I felt bad, he was so lovely, so nice.
I honestly hope he has found the woman of his dreams, she'll be a spoilt and very loved woman.

The Nerd

Short and sweet.

Saturday morning of The Weekend. Went up to the local shops and had coffee with The Nerd.  Now you may think that The Nerd is an unkind Term, but alas you are wrong! It is a term of endearment when one has a nerd fetish, as I do ;)
I love technology, everything about it, what it enables us to do, all the cool shit that it does for us, what we have at our fingertips because of it.  I started my corporate life out in Tech Support. God I miss that job.

So, we had coffee. He was nervous. His pictures (online dating) were kind. We talked about BlackBerries and Servers and Technical Support. It was a HOT date...
It also lasted <30 minutes.

A couple of days later he sent me an email telling me how to fix a problem I'd never been able to resolve with my BB, very sweet of him. There was no follow up coffee, nor question of one, no spark, no flirting, nothing.

If I bumped into him again now, I'd have another coffee with him for sure. I'd stay friends with him because I did like that side of him, but I wouldn't date him, and both he and I were after someone to date. I was not about to blur that with a "lets just be friends" line.


I know I keep these posts neutral: no names, no photos, but I kinda have to break this rule here because it is so pertinent, and short of him reading this post, which is unlikely (but I suppose not impossible) I think it's harmless.
His name was Chad. Perfect.

The Quiet One

So, Friday night, the first of The crazy Weekend.

I found this one online.  We'd exchanged a chunk of emails, and he'd laid good groundwork - one thing that always impresses me, this guy could make me laugh in print, we were already onto a good thing.

Here's a tip though - If you choose to do the internet dating thing, and if you choose to meet somewhere like a pub (which is a great first date by the way) make sure you've been given a clear and recent photograph!
Short of smiling at every mid-thirties man who walked through the door, which, in itself is really not such a bad idea ;) I honestly had no idea what I was looking for!
The Quiet One had posted photos which were distant, so I had to hope that he recognised me, and then in doing so, still chose to come over to the table ;)
In addition, I refuse to wear my glasses in a pub, so seeing as far as the door was useless anyway!

Thankfully, he recognised me, and, as a bonus, he was a bit of a looker at that! Amazing eyes. Crystal blue, like holiday brochures.
I got the impression that he was nervous, and very shy. We chatted, a lot about parenting. We found comfortable conversation. It was nice, easy, relaxed.
He mentioned that there was a great Japanese restaurant that his mate had told him about, just a few doors up. Asked if I was hungry.  So we headed out for dinner. We turned first date into date 1.1
I'm always wary of this extension of date option. I realise that you're supposed to leave the other person wanting. The old chasing game. I'm also not a believer in games...

I was conscious, at this point, that I had no cash in my wallet. I hate having an empty wallet.
This may come as a surprise to those of you who have read my previous posts, but I'm a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to first dates (or first dinner dates at least). Some things should just be left the old fashioned way (I'm happy to debate this one). 
First dinner should be covered by the guy. But the girl should still offer. He should turn her down and cover it.
Post first date, if there is interest from the girl, she can insist on taking him out to dinner as she 'owes him dinner', and she must insist on paying for dinner (on the night).

So, we're walking to the Japanese, and it literally is just two or three doors up, so I politely excuse myself heading for the ATM. He stops me outside the restaurant, and says that it's ok, just come in.  I insist, explaining that I have no cash, that I'll be back in just a minute, so instead, he kisses me (!) and pulls me into the restaurant.

We eat, the conversation continued to be excellent, then the bill came. $70 for dinner. I instinctively went for my purse. Problem. $20 note. He's looking expectantly at me across the table.
This to me, at this point, seems unreasonable. I made it clear I needed cash. Fair enough, the going for the purse move was misleading, but reactive only. So I say to him: I'll get dinner next time?

As we leave, he wishes me goodnight, says he's had a great night and that he'd love to catch up again. We go our separate ways. When I got home, I sent a text saying thank you for dinner, I had a great night, would be nice to do so again.


I had a pretty hectic schedule that weekend ;) so the lack of response, whilst noticed, didn't worry me too much. But the following Tuesday, I received a response: I enjoyed dinner too, let's go for a climb one night this week?

We caught up, the following week, went climbing. I like activity-dates. Sweating like a pig, though, is not exactly how you want someone to see you if you're thinking about dating them! We had fun, and then, of course Date 2 turned into, you got it, 2.1  We did dinner afterwards. I, of course, paid for dinner. In fact, I think, in his mind, there was no question about it. There was no offer, no move towards the wallet... It was a payback dinner. 
Again, the conversation over dinner was easy, comfortable, entertaining.  When we went our separate ways, he suggested catching up that weekend.

We exchanged a few texts over the coming week. I played it very cool. Then, out of nowhere, I got the email which, from that point onwards would be referred to as The Template.

I'm actually tempted to blog the entire email, but I think it's worthy of its very own post, so I'll leave it for another day. So instead, I'll summarise:
It was a 'break up' email really, except we weren't dating, so we couldn't break up. But it was excellently written. It was effectively "it's not you, it's me", however written so well you didn't realise what was going on until you got to the end due to its cleverly crafted nature and adept flattery.
It came from out of the blue, considering the note we left on. But the thing that threw me more than anything else about this email was the skill by which it was written! There was no chance I was not plagiarising this email - hence The Template ;)

He's emailed me from time to time since then, touched base, seen how I was doing, what I was up to, filled me in on his life. He's a nice guy... Way too nice for me. 
I've adapted some of that niceness into my life now though, and as such I wonder how many people out there are using this same Template...

Speed Dating

Dating was taking up too much time.

I don't have much free time, the bits that I do are precious, so I figured it was time to try my own method of speed dating. Sort of.

So there was The Weekend.
I did dinner Friday night: The Quiet One.
Brunch Saturday morning: The Nerd.
Dinner Saturday night: The Gardener.
Lunch Sunday: The Osteo.

There were many other things that I still had to fit in around the dating regime of that weekend, but I found one thing more than anything else... I started to forget which conversations I'd had with whom. And as a result I started to keep a journal.
It is thanks to that journal that I have enough notes to write this 'blog and to have an idea of who is who, what went on when, and where I went at what point in time...

My memory is terrible at the best of times, so it's been a handy little keepsake.

You need to keep ample time between dates, incase they're great, but they can be as short as a 20 minute coffee.
Always do coffee first.
Never commit to lunch.
If coffee is great, then it can always extend into a wander through the shops, an activity (keep it clean kids!), lunch or something else, but having a time constraint for later is a good plan as it leaves you wanting. And being left wanting is great! It means that it's worth going back to.

NEVER tell them you have another date lined up afterwards... Not socially graceful.

The Accountant

I did end up taking a hiatus for a while.

I think the definition of hiatus is apt - from the cambridge dictionary:
"a short pause in which nothing happens or is said, or a space where something is missing"

"Short pause" being the operative term. Four weeks out was considerable, especially reflecting on the prior 10 (or so) weeks. Ok, so I'm not even sure I could put hand to heart and say it was four... but the point is, I made an effort to take a break.

When I jumped back to it, I went on a date with the Accountant. It was Christmas Eve. An odd day for a date really. It was also the day I got my puppy, so the puppy joined us. A puppy makes for a great pick up tool. But if you're going to try this method, trust me, borrow one! (I have a really cute, energetic one up for grabs!)

The date was non-eventful, and the first of many nonchalant no follow ups (We're not including The Player here). This, I find in the dating world - particularly the online dating world - is a common theme. Drifting is easy. You can just not. (Yes that sentence is complete). So if a date is just average, then not following up seems to be ok. This annoys me, as I kinda like closure. Yup: delete, move on.

Kinda like spring cleaning.

The Toy Boy

In our building there was a cafeteria. The owner of which was particularly gorgeous. One of those people who was always surrounded by gorgeous people. One of the guys he had come in to do some cover work every now and then was The Toy Boy. My goodness, this guy used to make my coffee taste SO much sweeter!

I drank more coffee on the days this guy used to work than was imaginable. It was ridiculous.

He was also about 19. Ok, so he was really 23 or so, but that's still younger than my baby brother!

At our work xmas function we went to the local Bowls club to play some afternoon bowls. Lots of fun.
The Toy Boy also happened to be there.
He also decided to come play with us.
He also decided to partner with lil ol' me.

Lil ol' me was rather pleased with this outcome. The flirting was outrageous. I'm pretty sure that I have no shame when it comes to flirting - and consequently aiming to get my way ;) I'm also pretty sure that most of the other people there noticed that too!

We ended up leaving there, heading into the city to kick on for the night, but leaving The Toy Boy behind. I retrieved his number by way of a mutual friend. Flicked a text, got an instant response.
BINGO!
Seems the shameless flirting paid off.

Before too long I get a call, take it, deciding to put my ageist differences behind me.
Ask this lovely young man what he's up to and if he'd like to join us.

He proceeds to tell me that he's stopped in at home to punch a few cones, that he's smashed, completely totalled, but would love to catch up...

So very appealing. (Sarcasm is hard in the written form). Funnily enough I chose to give it a miss. My stoner days are long over.


I don't think there's much more to say here. I was going to make a comment about not being judgmental, but clearly that would come across as false. I think that what it comes down to, more so, is that that lifestyle doesn't suit mine (is that an uppity way of being judgmental?).

I still see him from time to time. He's still just as gorgeous, and I'd still like to shag his brains out.

Boots

So I have this friend...

No really! It's not one of those stories where I'm trying to guise myself as someone else.
This friend is the one who primarily makes me ponder a lot over what makes a date a date.

In about September/October last year I was out at The Playground (Yes, shock horror I know!) with my favourite partner in crime, and we bumped into an old colleague. This colleague (we'll call him The Botox Man) had a friend with him. This friend is the man we'll refer to as "Boots".

So, The Botox Man has this amazing knack for remembering details that you wouldn't possibly think that someone would remember. For example, you may make mention 18 months ago about wanting to go on a holiday to Fiji... this guy remembers that shit and asks if ever you 'ever took that holiday to Fiji'.
Completely besides the point!

Boots however swore that he knew me from somewhere. Now, I never forget a face. Names, dates, times, sure - I'll forget those things, but a face - no way! No chance.
Even when on a blinder, I'll remember a face.

So Boots wears a wedding ring. This is a good thing. This means he's a safe, easy conversationalist with no sleazy antics... right?!
He's smart, funny, good looking, easy to talk to. No wonder the guy is married.
We sit around, chat, we work in the same speciality, so that makes the conversation even easier.

Was there chemistry? Absolutely. But this one is easy. If there is a ring on that finger, you just simply don't go there. There are no ifs, no buts. It's a clear no go zone.

After a while we trotted up to the Ivy, The Botox Man headed home. So it was just the three of us left. We danced until the wee hours, then, as civilised adults do, we went our separate ways. Perhaps suggestions were made, but the point is, regardless of the suggestions, I went home anyway.

The next morning, the strangest thing happened... I get an email from a man I'd done a series of negotiations with some 12 months earlier... claiming he'd had a great night the night before with this chick who's memory wasn't nearly as good as the boots she wore... ... ...


The emails continued over time. Light hearted, always clean, but with a hint of innuendo.
Then one day (yes yes, believe it or not) my morals got the better of me and I emailed him saying that enough was enough (the emails were usually prompted by him). He was a married man, and if I were his wife and read his emails, I'm not sure I'd be happy. So whilst there was nothing 'wrong' with anything that was sent... I'm not entirely sure it was 'right' either.
He said that I was overreacting, that I was reading into something that wasn't there, but if he was making me uncomfortable, then it was fine, he'd stop writing me.

:/

Now, I pride myself on not being high-maintenance. At this point, I'm feeling pretty high-maintenance. So I reply, apologise for getting my wires crossed, and fair's fair.

He responds it's all cool, forget about it, we should catch up for lunch sometime.
I postpone until the point that you can't postpone anymore.

So this brings me really to something I've raised before, and hence my point. This to me is not a 'date'. It isn't a date because there was no intent (on my part) for it to be so. And I think there has to be. That said, if there is intent, does the intent have to be communicated? Surely "I'm asking you out on a date" doesn't need to be that explicit. "Would you like to have dinner with me" would imply, usually, to me anyway, that that is a date, but surely the context of the question also has to be implied.
The reason I believe this is because surely a man and a woman can catch up and have dinner together without it being interpreted as a date?
I can think of many instances where this is the case.

I've gotten no further with resolving this. Everyone I talk to has a different opinion. A lot of people say you 'just know'. But if that were the case, then either I'm naive, or it just doesn't apply in cases such as The Old Friend.

The Devil

The next night.

Ok, I think we've moved on from promiscuity to general whoring at this point... (how does two one nights out in a row classify me as a hussy? It just does in my book!)

I had a shindig that I was attending and didn't know many people there, but a friend of mine lived right up the road from where it was held, so he joined me.

We'd had a random 'pash and dash' a year prior. Nothing had come of it, it was never mentioned again. There's a rule you see, you don't screw the crew! We all know this one.

We drank a lot, decided to leave my car parked at his place and I'd collect it the next morning. We drank stupidly... (Still in destructive mode remember!). I was on good behaviour, and on the prowl. The night got late. He left. Checked in with me somewhere in the early hours to ensure I was ok. (How courteous). I wasn't. I was DRunk. So, as he lived only across the road, his strong suggestion was to head to his place, and crash there, and he'd make me some food in the mean time.

How very courteous! And I was hungry, as one is at some ungodly hour after lord knows how much tequila...
So off I went, and trundled up to his place...

Now of course, being the lady I am, I graciously sat down, ate my nicely made egg sandwich with my knife and fork and slept on the couch...
...
...

or maybe not.
At least the sex (if you could call it that) was better!

We did brunch the next morning, and I didn't have to introduce myself ;)

The only thing that got me was when he realised he had a bump on his forehead half way through brunch which we were having with a friend of his). Which made me cackle hysterically. He had no recollection of how it got there. Then it dawned on him.

The Rollercoaster Designer

First night out post The Player was disastrous. I was angry, hurt, bitter... and worst of all, in self-destruct mode.

So, off I go, back to the playground.

I was supposed to meet a girlfriend there. A notoriously unreliable one. I walked in, looked around, couldn't see her, walked to the bar and ordered a drink.
Now, this place called the 'meat market' for a reason. You don't stand at the bar on your own for long. It took a whole of about three seconds before I had company. Seeing as I couldn't see my girlfriend, I figured this would pass the time.

This guy was priceless. Amazingly arrogant. We bantered about how long you should wait for someone. I have an eight minute rule (for meetings) as I believe that time is precious and not to be wasted.  He believes that 'at the rate he charges' (apparently a grand an hour) he can afford to just sit around and wait.
I debated that he charged a grand an hour. He pointed out that I must not know many lawyers. I pointed out more so that if he charged that rate, he could afford a decent suit. He seemed unimpressed.

He and his mate (there were three of them, one was quiet) kept asking what I did for a living. So I told them I did handstands. It was the first thing that came to mind, and it was bugging the shit out of them, so I stuck with it.

He was a recruitment consultant.  I tried to redeem myself (on the suit comment) by telling him I was in the market for a new job.  His response: "Oh no sweety, I only do executive recruitment". Arsehole.
His mate was a real estate agent...

Then there was the third one, their other mate. He was quiet, just kept smirking. He'd listen, scoff, then look around, wander off, come back. When he did talk, he was hilarious. I asked him what he did for bread, he told me he was a rollercoaster designer. Kudos.

My girlfriend never showed, so I called it. The RD asks if I'm going home on my own. I tell him what is real: I always go home on my own. I've never had a one night stand in my life.
He asks me if I always play by the rules.
Me: not always.
Him: So lets go then.
Me: *thinking* - Screw it. Lets go.

We left and I did what I always swore I would never do. I took him home. First one night stand ever. It was terrible. What he did when he slept could not be classified as snoring... Bellowing perhaps, paint stripping, grating... I think you get the gist...

6am couldn't come soon enough. I handed him a towel, pointed out the shower and called him a cab.

And then the priceless moment came, thankfully I was expecting it:
Him: So... I don't know your name
Me: Do you need to?
Him: It would be useful.
Me: And why's that?
Him: For when I call.
Me: I think we both know that's not going to happen... It's called a 'one night stand' for a reason.
Him: So...
Me: Why don't you just make one up?
Him: Hmmm. *thinks this over* How about Clair
Me: Claire's fine.
Him: is that with or without an 'e'.
Me: If you like the e, add an e, if you don't leave it out.

So he takes my number (lord only knows why), adds it to his phone under "Clair" (he went for the sans-'e' option), and surprise surprise, never called.



I get why I don't do the one night stand thing now. It doesn't appeal to me. That said, this, unfortunately, wasn't the last...