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!

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 ;)

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...

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 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...

The Fairy

On a random night in August I went, with another of my fave girlfriends, to a bar I like to refer to as "The Playground". It was the night she met a man who would be known for a long time as the Silver Fox. We were sitting at the bar when the bartender asked what I was drinking. This baffled me at first, until I realised that the nice tall man across the bar was wearing a rather large smile.

Buying a drink across the bar. A nice move. Non-confrontational, and puts the follow up on the other person (a trick that would be replayed in later days ;)

After having my girlfriend check him out for me (alas no glasses that night) and make sure I wasn't making a seriously bad move, I trotted off around the bar in search of the tall sexy man who'd bought me a drink.
I found him, sitting quietly, waiting. (Oh, so smooth).

I remember the first conversation quite clearly, as he was heaven. Melbourne based (tick: remember The Glassy - can't stalk from Melbourne!), Daddy (tick!), English (tick: hello accent!).

After putting my gorgeous girlfriend in a cab, and making sure the Silver Fox wasn't going to follow her home, I offered The Fairy a lift.
You know those days where the radio station is really kind and plays all the best tracks, back to back, and you could drive forever? We picked up take away coffee from Krispy Kreme (It must have been nigh on 2-3am) and drove. Hit the beach. Walked and talked.

In a way, it was stupid. Here's a stranger who could have left me for dead on Cronulla beach, taken the Audi and no one would have ever known... *shudders at the thought*

He went back to Melbourne. I travelled a lot for work last year, so I still saw him. He came to Sydney occasionally... We still talk. All over a drink across the bar ;)