Bikes and boys ahoy

The more observant amongst you may have noticed that I put a blog post up recently, only to take it back down again a few days later. The truth is, I'm sick of hearing myself whinge about singledom/men. As someone* pointed out to me earlier tonight (when I was less drunk than I am now**), I was making lots of generalisations about an entire gender. I really need to stop doing that. People are individuals who happen to be male or female, beyond that - well, it's really not up to me to make sweeping judgements based on a handful of experiences with individuals.

*changes subject apropos of nothing*

You know one side effect of riding a beautiful bike that I really love? The people who start up random conversations with me because of it. It's like having an adorable puppy***; everyone wants to stop a while and  exclaim and fuss over it, ask questions about it, and maybe even pet it. Tonight as my friend* and I approached the princess, there was a small group of well-dressed people taking a close look over it, and as I got closer they cooed over my panniers, wanted to know where I got my (knock-off knogg) lights, and asked did I buy the bike from Steve, purveyor of fine bicycles in South Melbourne?**** We all stood around and had a nice little late night (drunken**) chat about how fine it is to ride a bike in Melbourne.

And just like that, I'm feeling more hopeful about the world once more.

Good night!

*you know who you are!
**two glasses of wine and I'm officially off my face.
***God I wish I did have an adorable puppy. Then my life would truly be complete.
****Details may not be correct, see '**' above.

Online Dating: The Stealth Version

The advice pretty much everyone gives me re: dating (those many happily settled friends of mine, that is) can be pretty much summed up as follows: "Forget online dating. Join a group." Hmm. I tend to bristle at this advice for several reasons:

1. The things I'm interested in doing in my spare time are inherently girly and do not tend to attract folks of the manly persuasion (baking, cycling my vintage pashley in a skirt, crochet, watercolours, zumba, reading, yoga). I know girls who have taken up rock-climbing/football/beer-tasting for the sole purpose of meeting a husband; but I just can't bring myself to do it. It just seems too much like... faking it.

2. Groups scare me.

Well that's it, which really isn't much of an argument now that it's laid out in print.

But the truth is, I have quietly been getting out there and meeting people through various online forums since I've been back. Just dipping a toe, in typical 'fraidy-cat fashion, into the waters of Socialising With Strangers. Just every so often when I've got nothing better to do on a quiet weekend. I've been to a couple of arthouse movie meetups, a group bike ride to a gallery, and I'm off to a (women only) book group this weekend. It's a little strange, and I'm still getting over the awkwardness factor, but it's also kind of interesting. People are generally interesting, don't you think? Everyone has some kind of story.

I've found I've met more interesting girls than guys - I'm in that age bracket now where there's a surplus of amazing, accomplished girls and a dearth of comparable guys, sadly - but you never know, I guess. And if I only meet great girls via this particular avenue, I'm fine with that.

I'm sort of treating my life like a giant science experiment at the moment; meddling with the ingredients, recoiling from spillage, agitating the mix, and trying not to set anything on fire.

Any Woman's Blues

Oh boy. This dating thing is all fizzy lemonade while you're not that emotionally involved; when it's all: "let's go for coffee! Yeah, I like Peep Show too. Oh, you like dark chocolate? Yeah white chocolate shouldn't even be CALLED chocolate". Once you've made yourself vulnerable though - this is not a euphemism, by the way, I haven't so much as smooched one bloke - and put your heart out there on that line, the pain of a million remembered heartbreaks comes roaring back. The pain that brings all your insecurities out of hiding and returns you back to that angsty teenage girl wailing to Tori Amos in her bedroom all over again.

Yup, it's time to put on some sad songs and wallow like a hippo.




Best comment under an Elliot Smith video: "everytime i feel depressed, i listen to this song. then i feel more depressed; it's awesome"


(worth repeating. *Sigh*)

Two-timing, double-dating hussy

Wow, this online dating thing really is an emotional roller-coaster. One minute you're top of the world, ma! with four dates lined up in one short week. Next minute you're All-by-myself-ing into your chocolate gelato after a date gone bad, wondering where it all went wrong.

Lordy! So, there are currently two* potential dudes (although after last Saturday, it may have been whittled down to just the one). I don't want to go into too much detail about these guys, in an attempt to protect their privacy - Melbourne is a small town, after all - but I will say that they are both lovely and decent, but also quite different in nature. Light and dark, you might say. One is a confirmed urbanite who reads the Guardian online and wears a suit to work, the other grows his own vegetables and wears hi-vis. I'm intrigued by both of them, and I am enjoying the process of getting to know them.

But oy, it's taking me from one emotional extreme to the other, sometimes in the same day.

Dating in your thirties? Completely different ball game to dating in your twenties (frisbee in the park vs. juggling sharks, let's say).

You have been through so much. Sometimes you wonder if you can survive one more heartbreak. You're alternately wary and hopeful. You can't help imagining what someone you just met would be like as a long-term partner, a husband, a father, based on whatever crumbs of information you have to hand. Something about them reminds you of an ex. You recognise certain traits which put up a red flag. And of course, they're sitting on the other side of the table, also having experienced heartbreak and battling on and trying to find the right girl, looking at you and wondering whether their future wife would eat her pizza quite so messily.

You get pickier as you get older, no doubt about it. You live, you learn. Isn't it ironic? And other Alanis Morisette lyrics.

On the other hand, it is exciting. A text message gives you flutters of excitement. A great date leaves you on a high for days. You spend hours detailing your experience to friends and family, and they give words of encouragement or caution. I am loving this about being back home: my family have taken an active interest in the nuances of my love-life. I have my brothers threatening to beat up anyone who treats me badly, my sister-in-laws picking favourites, and my mum giving me dating advice that she's learned from god-knows-where (certainly not reality). My Dad is mildly amused by the whole shebang, concerned for my safety but also wanting the same stability and happiness for me that he and my mum have enjoyed.

So, I'll keep putting myself out there. It's been interesting. Mostly enjoyable, all told. I haven't entertained one dark thought about quitting and becoming a bona-fide hermit. I am, amazingly, hopeful. Once more unto the breach, dear friends! I'll keep you informed.

* Yup, two. I did not expect to be dating two guys at once. It's uncomfortable, and I don't like doing it; and I'm hoping the situation will resolve itself soon. It's just that I wasn't sure I was going to hear back from the first guy; so I agreed to meet the second, and then eventually I did hear back from the first guy**, and by then it was too late to cancel the second guy, yada yada, here we are.

** Word of advice blokes: a woman likes to know where she stands. We love it when you text the next day. Love it.

Online Dating - Southern Hempishere edition: Jumping a bracket

It's back on, baby. The online dating escapades. The occassional thrills! The inevitable spills! The slightly hurtful bafflement of being rejected by three different men with three different automated responses in one evening: "Sorry, I'm overwhelmed with responses at the moment". "Sorry, I don't think we have enough in common". "Sorry, I may be on the cusp of 40 but I'm really looking for a supermodel aged 20-22, because I am a LAWYER".

Honestly, it's been ok so far. Similarly to my experience in the More Crowded Hemisphere, the online dating world in my experience is mostly full of nice people like myself, who are looking for a relationship but aren't in the habit of talking to strangers in bars (hello! Who does that?). The main difference between the site I used in the UK and the site I'm using here is the subscription fee; or lack thereof in the current case. It's literally a free-for-all. This concerns me a little, so I'm being quite discriminating about who I have contact with. Although, realistically? Psychopaths have money and addresses too, so I guess it probably doesn't make that much difference - I'm just working on the assumption that your average axe-killer would not want to give up their credit card details in case the detective on the case of MY MURDER discovers the electronic paper trail that leads back to said psycho.

Hmm. Well, I'm still here. FOR NOW.

I went on my first "Date" on the weekend (I don't classify the first meeting as a date, see here for more). We went ice-skating, at his suggestion. It was good fun, a bit silly, and reminded me of London. Aw! I hope I'll see him again, but I'm feeling quite relaxed about the process (the meds are helping with that). I have another coffee/milkshake meeting scheduled.

Of course, I've had those moments where a great weariness descends and I feel exhausted by the whole process; usually when an overweight, fifty-something trucker messages me to say "How about it?", or when you don't hear back from your awesome date first meeting. This isn't helped by the fact that sometime in the last 6 months I have skipped from the "could-be-late-twenties-on-a-good-day" bracket to the "definitely-in-her-mid-thirties" bracket. Sure, I scrub up pretty well, but there's no denying my age any longer - especially since I have lost weight (a nice layer of fat is nature's facelift).

But it's been mostly interesting and enjoyable so far. And eye-opening to boot - I was a little discriminatory towards my fellow aussies on my homecoming, I must admit. I'm ashamed to say I had fallen for the stereotype of the big, dumb, sports-obsessed aussie bloke versus the refined, well-read Englishman.

Current bogan hit-rate = 0 (discounting the trucker). Well played, Australian men.

How much more can a deeply cynical/hopeless romantic take?

There comes a time in every single girl's life (so far, so frickin' Carrie Bradshaw, right?) when she feels that she is done with the whole search. Done. Over it. She is at the end of her tether, and she just can't summon the energy to even think about putting herself back out there. Her options at this point seem to be:

1. convert to lesbianism;
2. become a nun; or
3. get cats.

None of these options are open to me because:

1. I like boys;
2. I like boys; and
3. I'm allergic.

Picture this scenario. You meet a guy, a lovely, tall, kind-eyed guy who you stumble across in the course of your everyday life and, after enjoying a long and rambly chat outside in the sunshine, pluck up the courage to ask him out for a coffee. He says yes. The stuff of daydreams.

So you meet up for a date in an intimate venue and it's going really well - the attraction is apparent, you talk about all sorts of things, and the more time you spend together the more you discover you have in common. A love of folk music. A disdain of alarm clocks. A belief in the revolutionary power of cycling.

A couple of hours fly by.

And then, just as he is saying how glad he is that you asked him out, and is suggesting that you meet up again soon at a place he knows, you make an off-handed comment about how scary it was asking him out, when you didn't even know if he had a girlfriend or not.

He squirms. He says "What if I told you that I do have a girlfriend? And a son?"

WHAT. IN. HOLY. HELL.

The "date" ends shortly thereafter.

So. Not the worst date I've ever been on (I'll blog about that another time), but definitely in my Top 3 All-Time Shitty Dates. Being single in your thirties sure does suck sometimes.

The fifth rule of online dating is...

...don't neglect the real world. There are a whole lot of options out there. It's easy to become a bit disillusioned with internet dating - if I read one more profile by a "pub lover" who likes "putting the world to rights over a pint", my brain is going to shut down in protest. By comparison, real-world meetings can seem much more straightforward and agenda-free. You like roller-blading? I like roller-blading! Coffee? Simple. Well, maybe not quite that simple, but y'know - the attraction is apparent; you don't have to waste any time emailing aimlessly back and forth; and there aren't a frillion other girls competing for his attention at the same time.

It's good to step away from the screen now and again.

* * * *

Actually, this rule pretty much applies to modern life in general. I read in the weekend papers about an internet rehab clinic that's been set up outside of Seattle, to help people (gaming geeks, mostly) wean themselves off their unhealthy addiction to the 'net. For about a millisecond I wondered if I qualified as addicted (I do seem to spend an inordinate amount of time online nowadays - doesn't everybody with a computer-based job?) - but then I remembered that I went cold turkey for a week in Slovenia and I didn't start getting the shakes 'til day 6.

Part of me is amazed by the possibilities the internet represents (building virtual communities; instant access to vast amounts of information on virtually any topic, yada yada), and part of me is worried about the consequences of living so much of our lives via an electronic interface, not to mention the deleterious effects of exposure to the 80% of online content that is porn/paranoid conspiracies/celeb gossip-mongering/blogs about people's boring-ass lives.

Just typed myself into a corner there. Back-up!

It is rather amazing to have witnessed how quickly the internet has infiltrated every aspect of our lives since we first heard whispers of a "world-wide web" (gasp!) around our High School circa 1991. I was remarking to someone just the other day how grateful I was to have been born into a pre-digital world: one consequence of this was that my generation had a simpler, slower-paced, generally more innocent upbringing. We certainly don't take instant electronic communication for granted. Those post-digital-revolution kiddies are going to freak-the-flip-out out when the grid goes down.

The fourth rule of online dating is... don't lose heart

A while back - about a year and a half ago now - I took a leap into the world of online dating (which you can read about here). I was lucky; my experience was a positive one overall, and thankfully weirdo- and creep-free. I went on several nice enough meetings/dates with dudes of varying attractiveness; the loveliest of whom I found myself in a verging-on-serious relationship with. Ultimately however, we had to face up to the unavoidable fact that we are at different stages in our lives - and that was that.

In my experience, heart-break only gets harder to recover from the older you are. However [grits teeth], I try to remind myself that there are some consolations to be had from growing older - it is only at this point in my life, for instance, that I have felt confident enough about my body to wear a mini-skirt. Not that my legs are better than they were in my twenties; it's just that now I am that much less prone to giving a sh*t about the imperfections.

There's a spirit of recklessness that kicks in during your thirties - I've only got a few mini-skirt wearing years left, so might as well get my pins out, no? Maybe I will get that tattoo after all...

But back to the point: I've gathered the pieces, dusted myself off, and have been thinking about giving the whole cyber-dating thing another whirl. Despite the fact that I have been just one text message away from bitter (to paraphrase Carrie Bradshaw) - and have felt like dropping out of the game altogether at various points - when it comes down to it I'm a romantic at heart. I believe love is our only real purpose in this crazy mixed-up world - to give love, to accept love and to cultivate love in our hearts defines us as human beings in my opinion.

And it couldn't hurt to meet a few more nice English guys, surely.

However, I want to be fully ready before I throw myself back in there. Internet dating is most decidedly not for the faint of heart. I want to be in that strong, resilient, contented place I was in when I originally signed up and logged on.

I'm nearly there. I'm hovering at the edge of the water in my bathers, my toes curling around the ledge as I give myself a little pep talk and take a deep breath...

The third rule of online dating is: don't confuse your candidates

In particular (and you'd think this would go without saying, really) don't send someone a message starting "Hi [wrong name here]!". It results in red faces for all parties concerned, and most likely the premature termination of any futher contact.

Luckily, in my stupid case, the bloke concerned had a sense of humour about it and messaged me back, making a joke about the conveyor-belt feel of the dating site we are both navigating.

It is so easy to slip up in this strange online world where you can go "cyber-shopping" for a match, scrolling through page after page of eligible men, adding some to your favourites (ie. the trolley) and being added to other people's favourites, all the while trying to manage the varied messages that come your way. A few blokes have sent me one essay-length message after another, back and forth, back and forth until I find my heart sinking at another "ping" in my inbox. Let's meet up already, dudes! There is no point wasting good Facebook time if we meet up and the chemistry is off.

Speaking of which, it makes sense to bone up on your potential candidate (and I do mean "bone up on", not just "bone" - the devil is in the detail) before you meet them, in order to avoid this kind of embarrassing pratfall. Otherwise, just refer to the first rule, and stick to safe topics like global warming, the upcoming Mayoral election, and Conchords vs. Boosh.

It's a potential minefield for the chronically vague. I only hope someone out there will one day benefit from my mistakes.

The second rule of online dating is: Don't invest too much too soon

I cannot emphasise this enough to anyone thinking about giving this cyber-matching thing a whirl. Early on I decided that when I first met up with a potential candidate (shall I just call them "dudes" from now on? I think I will), after exchanging detailed enough email messages to determine that they were a) genuine, b) sane and c) relatively normal, that I would call the first meeting just that: a meeting. Not a date. If, when you meet in the flesh and things go well, and there is laughter and easy chatter and a definable spark; then you can arrange an official Capital-D Date. If however, things don't go so well, and there are awkward moments and no flow or attraction, then you can go home with no harm done, and look forward to your next meeting.

(I should say at this juncture that I haven't had a bad experience yet. This whole experience so far has done nothing but reaffirm my faith in the general goodness of people.)

This "emotional holding back" has been a hard-won lesson for me. I have often invested too much, too early, and made myself far too vulnerable to upset if things didn't work out, especially in my late twenties when I was seriously unhappy and thought that salvation would come in the form of a man. On the other hand, if things did work out, the relationship would be rushed through from "dating" to "serious" way too quickly, and I would end up falling into a full-on, overwhelming, life-changing, compromise-making relationship without even the time to stop and think about whether this was actually what I wanted.

Right now, I am finally (at the grand age of 31) in that place where I would like to have a boyfriend, but actually, I am doing just fine on my own.

In fact, I am even beginning to question whether I want someone in my life right now. Boys just take up so much damn energy. And I seem to attract that particular species of bloke who needs a hell of a lot of looking after. Right now I just want to look after myself for a bit. Also, I am feeling more content than I have in a long time, and I don't want to rock my little boat too much.

The first rule of online dating is: Don't Talk About Online Dating

It's all part of the dance. Whilst on an online date, you can talk about things that are made mention of on the website, but you cannot bring up the actual website, directly or indirectly. If one of you slips and makes mention of the website, the other must pretend they didn't hear and hastily change the subject. To come right out and talk about other dates you have been or are planning to go on is sheer dating suicide. To confuse your potential suitor for another online candidate is kamikaze territory (aren't you the one who has a sister in Iceland? No? Are you sure?)

It's best to feign ignorance of the whole world of online dating. That way you can keep up the pretense that you both met randomly, and just happen to know each other's life history/taste in music/career plan by sheer coincidence.

Of course, if the date is not going well and you want to put off your potential suitor, then it makes sense to talk about nothing but online dating. As in, the number of years you have been online dating, unsuccessfully; an extensive rundown of how many online dates you have been on previously; the picture you once put up on your profile of you in your underwear in order to garner more dates, etc.

Online Dating: Dispatches from the Frontline

What better day to write about dipping my toe into the unknown waters of online dating than today, while the streets outside are still strewn with the petals of hastily-bought roses in the aftermath of Valentine's Day?

To bring you up to speed - I have been single since breaking up with my long term boyfriend in June last year. I think I coped fairly well, considering that 1) I had high hopes for the relationship; 2) I had just helped him deal with the fallout, emotional and practical, of an unexpected bereavement; and 3) earlier the same year, I turned thirty, with all the self-analysis and reassessment of life choices that that particular landmark entails. No longer the chicken of Spring, etc.

For a while there, I focused very hard on holding myself together and getting back to a level of emotional stability, and just didn't have the energy or the inclination to even think about men. It was all about me, at that point. That is one of the plus sides of being single in your thirities, you have a lot of free time to devote to self-reflection and development. I did a lot of yoga, drank a lot of chamomile tea, and cried in front of my boss.

I had always said that if I found myself single and in my thirties, that I would try online dating. Many of my friends have tried it at one point or another, with varying degrees of success. It seems to have lost the tarnish it once had of being the sole preserve of nerds, losers and psychopaths. I know that the ideal situation (at this point I can hear my mum's voice in my head) is that you would meet someone through friends, or at work. However, here in the real world, my work is full of old men and accountants, and my friends are all female. I just don't come into contact with that many, or even any, eligible men. So, internet dating it is.

Anyway, so far, it has been a strange experience, but not a bad one. After getting a friend to write up a profile (it works on a recommendations basis), adding quite a few people to my "favourites" list, and sending out a load of messages to potential suitors, I sat back and waited. After a week, my inbox resounded with a vast, echoing, wind-whistling, tumble-blown silence. I think it is fair to say my ego was a little bruised.

After a few weeks of feeling like Superted pre-super powers (scary voice-over: When he was made, they found something wrong with him... and threw him away like a piece of rubbish!), I cracked and decided to make my profile funnier, and a bit ridiculous ("6 ft tall blonde amazon with teeth that sparkle like diamonds"). These English people (men and women) are extremely witty and eloquent, so no ordinary "nice and normal" write up is going to do the trick. I also changed my profile pic to a more natural, less dressy shot.

Anyway, it either worked; or those cosmic forces that decree as soon as you stop giving a sh*t, you get what you wanted, came into play. A few people have got in touch and some have even added this little teddy bear to their list of favourites. I have been on a couple of dates so far, with a few more scheduled. More to come on that, later.

* * *

You all remember what happened to that bear, don't you? That's right, a Spotty Man from outer space brought him to life with his cosmic dust, took him to a magic cloud where Mother Nature gave him special powers...

That bear became... Super Ted!