Advice Part 67- Dating Disasters Part 4 (the original Dating Disaster)

I realised today that I haven't written a "Dating Disasters" themed blog for a while. And why may that be?

• Because I am no longer single? Ha ha. Funny. VERY funny.
• Because I am now so well-versed in avoiding dating disasters that every date I go on is a rip-roaring success? No. Please try again.

The answer is that I don't have any new dating disaster stories to impart because I, umm, haven't been on ANY dates (good, bad or indifferent) for at least 6 months.

I think we'll let that one go through to the proverbial keeper without comment.

But my advice to young players is that starting at the very beginning (which is, as The Sound of Music would tell us, "a very good place to start") can sometimes provide you with valuable insights about what is happening at the moment.

How do I know this? Read on.....

I had what could best be described as a somewhat delayed adolescence. In fact, it wasn't until I was (wait for it) 23 YEARS OLD that I first went on what could be described as a "date " (and those inverted commas are more important than you may think.....).

Dear god, this is SO SAD.

Anyway. Leaving that aside, my "first date" was one of those "is it or isn't it?" situations which seem to have plagued me EVER SINCE. To give a bit of background, I met the object of my ill-considered affections at uni, and, after some heavy-duty emailing, he suggested we "meet up for a coffee." Which turned into dinner and drinks.

All went well. Or so I thought, given my distinct lack of dating experience. Conversation was easy, there was some mild flirtation, discussion about single status, and the date lasted for 5 hours.

And when I got home and checked my email, I was delighted to find a message from the man in question, saying he had had a fantastic evening, was thinking of me in the car on the way home, and wanted to "catch up again really soon."

I took this as a good sign.

BUT (and there's ALWAYS a "but....").....

The next morning, another email arrived in my box. Written in the cold light of day, my previously ardent suitor "wanted to clarify what (I) thought last night was." He believed it was "a friendly meeting, not a date", and "didn't want (me) to get the wrong impression from (his) very friendly behaviour."

What the HELL?!


I wish I could say that I am now a maestro at avoiding such ambiguous situations. But, unfortunately, I am still absolutely RUBBISH at this sort of stuff. And I wouldn't mind betting that I'll still be engaging in such "friendly meetings" when I'm well into my 80s.

Advice Part 66- Too much advice....

Aah, the amusement....I'm giving advice on how to avoid unwanted advice.

Anyway......

If you're anywhere near as clueless as I am, you probably rely on other people's advice A LOT. But my advice to young players is that whilst this can be helpful at times, there is such a thing as TOO MUCH advice. And knowing when to stop seeking alternative opinions is a VERY valuable trait.

How do I know this?

Read on.....

In the last month or so, I have been suffering from a crazy eczema outbreak. What makes this particularly intriguing is that I have NEVER had eczema before and it's only on my face.Weird.

So, eczema novice that I am, I decided to ask some knowledgeable people for a bit of advice on the subject. BAD MOVE. I soon realised that everyone seemed to have a different suggestion for what was causing my new blotchy face, and what to do about it.

Here's a small sample of the "potential culprits"....

• Washing my face too much in hot water (Colleague 1)
• Touching something that I'm allergic to, then rubbing my hands on my face (Colleague 2)
• Office air conditioning being too dry (Colleagues 1, 2, 3)
• Stress (Mum)
• Allowing my cat to sleep on my bed (Mum and Colleague 3)
• Allergy to make up or shampoo (Dentist- yes, even my DENTIST wanted to offer some advice on this!)
• "Just one of those things" (Doctor)

 

The proposed cures were equally varied, and included:

• Not washing my face (Colleague 1)
• Washing my face in cold water only (Colleague 3)
• Washing my face using a special cream (Colleague 2)
• Buying a humidifier for the office (Colleague 1)
• Tricking my cat into not sleeping on my bed (Mum and Colleague 3)
• Anti-histamines (Colleague 3)
• Changing my make up and shampoo (good old dentist again)
• Anything BUT hydrocortisol cream (Colleague 3's SON, who had popped into the office for a visit)
• ONLY hydrocortisol cream (Doctor)

What the HELL?! After this, I felt more confused that ever. And the advice just keeps on coming.....

I think I'll go and buy a big paper bag to wear over my head. That should solve all my issues.

Advice Part 65 - Sexist rap?

I have always considered myself to be something of a “feminist”. Whilst I have stopped short of reading The Female Eunuch, and have yet to burn my bra or stop shaving my legs (sorry, had to chuck in a few clichés there....), I would describe myself as VERY committed to ensuring that women are treated equally to men.

But in the past month or so, I have come to realise that I have a MAJOR problem reconciling my feminist political views with my musical tastes.....

My advice to young players is that it MAY be acceptable to briefly suppress your moral outrage for the sake of a bit of enjoyment. But as soon as the fun is over, get back on your moral high horse lest it gallops away (I am going to wring every last drop out of that image...)

How do I know this? Let me explain....

It may come as a surprise for those of you who know me, but I have a rather unfortunate penchant for a particular "niche kind" of R&B, hip hop, and rap music. 

"A-ha!" you're probably saying. "That's no surprise at all. I bet you like nice, conservative R&B, like Boyz II Men, or Mariah Carey or Rihanna."

But if you thought that, you'd be VERY wrong.

Rather, my predilection is for blantantly sexist and misogynistic music which:

• objectifies women
• features near nude dancers gyrating in the video clips
• is full of lyrics about sex and the singer’s “performance in the sack”

 So, some tracks which I like:

• Gett Off- Prince
• Baby got back- Sir Mix-A-Lot
• Novacane- Frank Ocean (this is a KILLER track!)

 

The strangest thing about this is that there seems to be some sort of positive correlation between the sexism of the lyrics, and the amount I like the song- the more sexist, the more I’ll like it.

What really disturbs me is that if I heard these sort of sentiments expressed anywhere other than in music, I would be absolutely FURIOUS.

But, worst of all, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA why I like this sort of music. It seems to exert some sort of irresistible appeal for me. As soon as a sexist rap track starts playing, I can't resist.

This is one of those times that I wish Dr Freud was still alive, because I'm sure he'd have a field day with this sort of fascination.....

Advice Part 64- You work WHAT hours?!

With the weekend almost upon us, I thought it was an appropriate time to write about an issue which has been perplexing me for some time.

And what may this be? Working hours.

My advice to young players is that acting like a martyr by working long hours is NOT impressive, and rather than making you look "driven" and "ambitious", it actually looks like you desperately need a life.

How do I know this? Read on....

A few weeks ago, I went to drinks at a bar with a friend. She mentioned that some other people would be joining us soon, but that they were still finishing up at work.

At 8:30pm.

On a Friday night.

Hmmmm.....

When the said individuals eventually arrived, I decided to make polite conversation with one of them:

• Me: So. What do you do?
• Him: I'm a corporate lawyer.
• Me: Wow.....(big pause).....Umm, that must be interesting.
• Him: Yeah, really long hours though.
• Me (knowing exactly where this conversation was heading): Right
• Him: Yes. I work late most nights. And on the weekend, too.
• Me: Oh.
• Him: What sort of hours do you work?
• Me: Well, I usually finish at the office at 4:30, although I sometimes stay until 5.
• Him (eyes boggling): 4:30 AM? Gee, that's CRAZY! I've never worked past midnight. Phwoar!
• Me: Err, no. 4:30 PM. I work 8 hours a day.
• Him (very embarrassed): Right.

What really disturbed me about this exchange was that my interlocutor thought that working until 4:30 IN THE MORNING was a more likely scenario than working until 4:30 IN THE AFTERNOON, which is what I would describe as "normal hours."

What the hell?!

 

Maybe it's just me, but if I am hired to work 8 hours a day, I am going to work 8 hours a day. I'm not going to sit in the office until 10pm so that I look "committed to my job", because, frankly, there's other things in my life which are important. Like actually going out, relaxing and (shock, horror) ENJOYING MYSELF.

Sure, I may not ever be able to afford a house in Woollahra and I'm not going to be shopping in Gucci or Hermes any time soon. But you know what? That REALLY doesn't worry me.

Now, back to work!

Advice Part 63- My wine bar fantasy

One of my worst traits (and yes, there are many bad ones) is that I have a REAL problem with my endless pursuit of “wild flights of fancy” and “hare-brained schemes.”

In the past year, for example, I have SERIOUSLY considered

a)      Hosting a Pedro Almodóvar film festival

b)      Moving to Spain to teach English

c)       Quitting my job and writing a novel

My advice to young players is that idle daydreaming is all very well and good, but it’s best to realise that sometimes, fantasies are best left in the ethereal realm....

How do I know this? Read on....

A few months ago, I was walking through my suburb when I saw that a shop was up for lease. And, needless to say, my imagination immediately began running riot. This was the ABSOLUTELY PERFECT opportunity for me to OPEN MY OWN, PRIVATE BAR! Just think of it.....

• I wouldn’t need to commute to work- I’d just walk up the street.
• I could have a few drinks ON THE HOUSE and not have to catch a cab home.
• I would never have to worry about horrible music, as I’d be controlling the tunes
• I’d have a legitimate excuse for foraging around in second hand shops, searching for furniture
• AND I could spend DAYS coming up with a suitably witty name for the establishment

I got so excited about this that (I hate to say it) I actually contacted the real estate agent, asking how much the rent was.

It was only then that I started to realise that this was an absolutely ridiculous plan because....

• I don’t have any money
• The rent was $65,000 a year (plus costs). And that’s not even considering the money needed for hiring staff, fitting the place out, and ordering stock
• I have NEVER worked in a bar, so I’d have no idea how to make even the simplest drink
• I am not a “night person”, which is a bit of a problem if your establishment’s key trading hours are in the evening
• AND last (but not least) I wasn’t able to think of a single witty name, let alone a selection....

Consequently, the wine bar was placed on the proverbial “back burner.”

But I’m confident in the knowledge that in a few months, I’ll probably have another equally impractical and unachievable mission occupying my time.....

Advice Part 62- Babies

Having reached the ripe old age of 31, I have started to notice a disturbing trend. Many of my peers are forming relationships (!!!!), getting married (!!!!) and having children (!!!!). This means that I am now having to interact with babies on a (semi-) regular basis.


This would all be well and good. Except that babies HATE ME.

My advice to young players is that if, like me, you have a rather negative effect on younger citizens, then this provides you with a great opportunity to revel in your single and childless status.

How did I reach this conclusion? Read on.....

In the last two weeks, I have had two eerily similar experiences at my local cafe (yes, the one with the "witty banter"), where I have run into acquaintances from yoga who have recently had children. The same near identical conversations ensued....

• Me (approaching yoga buddy and child): Oh! Hi there! Haven't seen you at yoga for a while! How are things going?
• Yoga buddy: Yeah, good. I've been pretty busy with this one (indicating offspring) so I haven't had time to go.
• Me (sympathetic face): Of course. (Awkward pause, whilst realising that I must acknowledge the elephant in the room). So. This is the baby, eh? What's his or her name?
• Yoga buddy: It's a her. Her name's Lola.
• Me (trying to delay the inevitable): Wow, great name. She's very cute.
• Yoga buddy: Here, you should have a hold! Lola, meet my friend.....
• Me (starting to panic): No, no! She looks very comfy there. Don't disturb her.
• Yoga buddy (thrusting baby at me): Oh, you must!
• Me (beginning to get very shrill): Look, babies hate me. I'm not good with them. You hold her.
• Yoga buddy (grinning away): You just need a bit of practice. And Lola loves EVERYONE. Here she is!

With this, the seemingly happy baby was thrust at me. I tried to do some "amusing baby things." I smiled at it. I pulled funny faces. I tried to "coochy coo". I pointed at its mum and grinned.

But all to no avail.

It began screaming and shrieking and waving its tiny fists in the air, whilst I hastily handed it back to its parent.

• Yoga buddy (looking a bit shocked): Wow. She's never done that before. She really didn't like you, did she?
• Me (triumphantly): No. But I told you that!

The thing is, I have NO IDEA why babies hate me so much. Are they like horses, and can smell my fear? Is it something to do with my hair and glasses? Do I emit a "childless and loving it" odour which puts them off?

God knows.

All I can say is that sometimes being eternally single does have its rewards....

Advice Part 61- "Witty" banter

There are few things I enjoy more than going down to the local cafe every afternoon to get my obligatory skinny flat white. However, since I have become a "regular" (i.e. someone who doesn't have to say their order, because the barista knows exactly what I'll be having), this pleasant interlude has taken on a more stressful vibe.

Why? Two words. Witty. Banter.

My advice for young players is that it is all well and good being friendly with your local cafe folk, but just be aware of the risks of venturing into "banter territory."

How do I know this? Read on....

A few months ago, I started working in a new place. And naturally, one of the first things I did was to find a purveyor of caffeinated beverages near my place of employment.

In choosing a new cafe, these are the criteria I used:

• Coffee tastes good i.e. barista actually knows what they're doing.
• Reasonable price. No more than $3 for take-away.
• No more than 5 minutes walk from work
• Attractive staff

Anyway, after a lengthy process which entailed my visiting four potential "locals", I made my decision.

All was fine and dandy at first. Until the regular barista decided that I was "banter-able."

The following conversation now tends to ensue with unfortunate regularity....

• Barista (grinning): Sooooooo, how's your day going, my dear?
• Me (pretending to be absorbed in the newspaper): Err, alright
• Barista: Only alright? That's not what I want to hear.
• Me (trying desperately to think of something witty): Yes, well.....(having a brain wave) How's your day going?
• Barista: Oh, you know. Better now you're here, ha ha!
• Me (trying to look "flattered"): Hmm. Yes. Well. Thanks (Frantically searching for smart quips in deepest depths of brain). Hey, why aren't you wearing your favourite hat today?
• Barista: I have to give the brain a bit of air. Do you like me better with my hat? I always like to please the ladies, you know (big wink)
• Me: Erm.....

This sort of "banter" occurs EVERY DAY now. Although it's even worse on Mondays and Fridays, when I have to endure some "witticisms" about my weekend.

And it drives me mental!

I'm all for a bit of small talk, but this sort of exchange leaves me totally floored. I have NO IDEA what to say, as my organ of wit seems to have shriveled and died.

If it ever existed in the first place.....