Why I Need a Husband

It’s been a while since I last posted with the silly season and all, but today I spent a holiday day working on some home improvements. Off to Bunnings I went to solve my storage woes and replace all the dead carcasses in my pots out in the courtyard.

I had looked up the storage shelving that I needed online beforehand so the task should have been simple. But when I arrived I struggled to find the item and wandered around the stinking hot store feeling a little helpless. It was crazy busy, clearly everyone else was on the home improvement bandwagon as well, so I couldn’t find anyone to help.

But then I spotted what I needed. It was on a high shelf, even for me standing at 5’10”, but I attempted to get it down but quickly realised my error. That thing was damn heavy and there was a sticker clearly indicating that it was a two person job. But I was not one of two! Only me, myself and I. Feeling defeated and deflated I looked for a substitute, but all the other items also had this two person sticker – like the shelves were mocking my singleness!

After looking for a willing assistant for about 5 mins, I gave up and headed out to the garden section. I found the perfect pots I needed to replant my yukka’s which remarkably were still alive and even thriving, but those flipping pots were heavy too!!! And on a high shelf.

I ended up buying way too many pots of herbs despite the fact I rarely cook these days and headed to the exit. There I found quite a cute young man who commented that I had ‘a good selection’ in my trolley and proceeded to tell me all about the rocket and basil he is growing at home. He was being overly friendly and perhaps even flirty….so I couldn’t help thinking ‘will you lift my shelves and maybe even assemble them for me?’

It’s hard to find a man that can lift stuff and is good with his hands these days…

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Seated at the Kids Table

This past Saturday night I went to a Christmas party with all of my friends. Life has got a little busy over recent years and we haven’t actually had it for three years. This particular quirky party originally started as a post Christmas party where you could re-gift the crappy presents that you received at Christmas. The intention was to would wrap up something rubbish that you got, offload it to some unfortunate sod and get very, very merry.

The highlight of that original party was inducting Norma the garden gnome into our circle of friends. Norma was an unwanted work Kris Kringle gift, but she wasn’t just any garden gnome. Norma had cleavage and buttcrack – she was all class!

She became the ambassador of the party and each year for the next 4 or so years she returned to the party to be regifted. The party eventually turned into a pre-Christmas party where you had to go out and intentionally buy the crappiest gift that you could find for $10. But with weddings, new houses and babies over the past few years the party was neglected and Norma had become very comfortable at her current residence.

This year she made her reappearance and moved into her new home as per the parties of old. However, the party itself was not the same. It used to be a rowdy night where the beer, wine and vodka flowed freely, the folk in their late 20’s and early 30’s acted their age playing with water pistols, rainbow wigs and fake moustaches (all crappy gifts). The singles flirted shamelessly and sometimes there was a party pash or two.

This year, there were only two singles. Myself and one of my girlfriends. But there were a lot of rowdy people acting like children – because they actually were children! It was the first party we’ve had where most of the adults had descendants. It was a constant barrage of ‘look what I can do’ and ‘excuse me, can I have a chip/juice/candy cane/that/no not that, THAT’.

Don’t get me wrong, kids are awesome. I used to be one and I hope to have some myself eventually. But it feels like something you really need to ease your way into. Despite being 32, I’m not quite there yet and I think it has a lot to do with not having found my future baby daddy as yet. I just can’t picture my life like that right now.

My friend had an adorable little boy recently and he is gorgeous and I love him already! But, I look at him and I just can’t picture my current life revolving around a child. I work late, study part-time, often have nothing in my fridge but booze and really enjoy my ‘me’ time. Sure, I want it to happen and I know it will happen, but I very much enjoyed my nap(s) on the lounge on the Sunday after the party and having a lazy day watching dvds.

I guess I better enjoy those days whilst they last hey – after all, the psychic has said my future husband is on his way!!!

Any day now, any day…..

Festive Rejections

Although based on past experience I have an inkling that my future husband is not on RSVP, I decided to give it another crack on the weekend. So far I’ve sent a few guys a kiss and I have got a couple of rejections back; a few guys haven’t replied, perhaps waiting for a better offer; and I am talking to one guy that after one email seems so far reasonably normal.

At 32, I’m ideally looking for a man that is about 31 to 45. That is quite a big age range, but based on people I have met in my personal and professional life, age really is just a number. I know men that are 35 year old manchilds, but also 45 year old men that are very young spirited.

But for some reason, 25 year old men seem to like to send me kisses on RSVP. I kind of picture them sending kisses out on rapid fire to play the odds game that maybe they will eventually get a hit.

I am a courteous online dater and always respond promptly either way if I am interested or not and I have just noticed that RSVP has got into the festive spirit this month! Their latest rejection option is ‘I don’t want to take things further right now but hope you have a Merry Christmas!’

Hmmm yes, I won’t be using that one. It might as well say ‘No, what were you thinking?! Merry Kiss My Ass’.

Men Always Add an Extra Inch

Ok, so in a similar vein to my previous post, I am going to complain about another height related problem with dating. Men seem to struggle with measuring themselves, yet we all know they have done it…..

A few years ago on my quest for a gorgeous 6’5″ giant, I went along to a speed dating event specifically for tall men 6 foot plus. Seeing I am 5’10”, I decided to go with a conservative kitten heel of no more than 1 inch. So I knew I was standing about 5’11” that night. I turn up and gaze across the room looking upwards to try and lock eyes with my 6’5″ future husband. However my view kept getting interrupted by men at eye level. How could this be?!?!

The night progressed and after we had completed 6 out of the 12 dates we gathered for a half time intermission. Whilst standing around the bar sipping champagne, I happened to notice that I was taller than some of the men. Thus, they were certainly not 6 foot and above!

Now of all the things that men can lie about on the dating scene, I find that height is surely a big no no. It’s not exactly something that you can hide. Sure, you could shop at the same place that Tom Cruise gets his shoes, but eventually if it goes well there will be an occasion where you will be barefoot together. It would get really quite awkward for him to be walking around on tippy toes the whole time…..

I appointed an executive matchmaker earlier this year (more about this disaster later) and in my top 5 ‘must-have’ criteria, I listed ‘taller than me, ideally 6 foot plus’. My matchmaker delivered a profile of a match and he was listed as 5’11. Knowing I only had an inch to play with there, I again opted for a conservative 1 inch kitten heel for our date. Yet again he was shorter than me – by about an inch.

So the lesson here is that men always add an extra inch for good measure. And I mean always…

Short Girls are Selfish

Driving home from work this evening I passed many enthusiastic, endorphin rich individuals running around the bay. However a couple quite caught my eye….as they instantly enraged me!

The reason for the rage is perfectly warranted. Some people are just selfish, evil people who are ruining the world. You know the types, the ones that don’t wave when you let them in in traffic, the ones that stop dead in front of you on a busy footpath so you smack into them yet somehow it is your fault, and finally short girls that date tall guys.

Selfish, rude tarts!

Honestly, there are not enough 6 foot plus guys to go around in this world for short chicks to be stealing them, especially in Sydney! It is apparent that world stocks of tall men are depleting because 5 foot shorties keep taking all the 6’5″ men and the net result must surely be 5’8″ spawn?!? Tall men are an endangered species.

But rest assured, some selfish shorties get what they deserve. Kanye must be Kim’s punishment….

Things I’ve Learnt From Online Dating

So like most new age singletons, I’ve given online dating a go. When I say a go, I mean that I have spent many hours trawling the various sites looking for someone that the reason that they are single isn’t immediately and abundantly clear from their profile.

There are a few tried and true things that I can rely on to exist in a guy’s profile – always at least one of these, often a combination:

The hat pic
If a guy is wearing a hat in his first profile pic, there is a 99.3% chance that he is bald. Not that that really matters guys, but you are fooling no one.

The tiger pic
Especially true for Tinder, everyone has been to Thailand and patted a tiger. Oooooh how strong and manly you must be to wrestle drugged up tigers at tourist attractions! I want to have your baby. Now.

The motorcycle/surfboard/skydiving pic
Honestly life with you must be so action packed and full of adventure. I can’t imagine that you ever sit on the couch scratching your balls…

The tattoo pic
Chicks apparently dig guys that look like Chopper Read.

Gym
All guys go to the gym. All the time. It’s a gun show everyday.

The intelligence test
Now this I actually like on profiles. If a guy can’t work out what the red squiggly line is beneath a word, or the difference between there/their/they’re, I know he is to stupid to ride this ride.

‘Trying to quit’ smokers
Despite my profile stating that I am only interested in non-smokers, the Nicabate crew seem to think I’ll relent. I guess the pool of smokers is becoming too small these days and they need to look further afield. Perhaps governments should use that as an anti-smoking campaign – “You won’t be able to get even an online date if you don’t quit….”

Mug shots
Many profiles (especially those on the AYI – Are You Interested app) look like they are auditioning for Australia’s Next Top Criminal. Pass….

Tight Ass Tuesday
On RSVP you need to buy stamps to communicate with the potential love of your life once they indicate they are interested in you. The amount of guys that try to ‘dodge the system’ by cryptically embedding their email address in their profile is ridiculous. Oooh I wonder if he will pay on our first date?!? I’m getting the feeling he is the romantic type!!

I have no doubt that online dating can work. I have met one or two decent guys off RSVP in the past, but it’s needle in a haystack stuff.

As per my favourite quote ‘online dating is a lot like looking for a Ferrari in a Datsun dealership’, unfortunately there are a lot of used and abused banged up shitters to test drive ;p

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Psychic Says

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I generally consider myself a rational and intelligent woman. There are two things that tend to disprove this theory:

1. I love watching Neighbours – yes I am the only one in Australia still doing so.

2. I willingly hand over $160 once a year to a woman with a black cat and a crystal ball.

Three years ago I was referred to a ‘clairvoiant’ by a friend from work. I was lured by her review that the psychic had told her things about her family that she could not have possibly guessed. So myself and two other girlfriends booked in and headed off one Saturday for our readings.

The reading is done at her house at a little table near a window. We are all in there for an hour each, in which time our palms are read, we hold the crystal ball to impart our ‘energy’ and finally tarot cards are read. The psychic asks only our first name and date of birth, but not the year.

Each of the three times that I have been, she always starts with reading my palm and seems to think that I must already be married according to my ‘marriage’ line. Each time I reluctantly say no as I do not want to lead my reading if she is fishing for info like ‘the Mentalist’, but considering I am mostly seeing her to find out when my future husband is going to make an appearance, I feel I have to throw her a bone.

Whilst reading my palms on my first visit, the pyschic said they were giving off my own psychic energy and pointed out the purple glow. I looked down at my hands and they were indeed a blueish tone. But I was not cold and as the psychic was looking down at the lines on my palm with a magnifying glass, I looked around the room searching for where this mysterious blue light was coming from, but I couldn’t see anything suspicious.

My reading progressed with insights into my personality which definitely rang true, but I didn’t get anything too specific about my future out of that reading. She did tell me that she saw a man in law enforcement coming my way and that I would practically fall over him, I wouldn’t need to go searching for him, but nothing else that was too interesting. At the following reading which was in early October last year, I got much of the same info again. However, by mid October I had met that law enforcement guy.

A detective moved in one door down the hall in my apartment building and despite my reservations about that being a little too close for comfort, we got involved and it ended in a spectacular fashion. It’s now just a wee bit awkward that I might run into him in the hallway – with his girlfriend who has since moved in and their new baby who was born about 7 months after I stopped seeing him. I think the baby might be mine….

Anyway, on the last visit to the psychic this year, she said she was glad it didn’t work out with that detective as he was incapable of being faithful. Could she have not told me (or his baby mama) that before?!?! She also described another guy who I was dating after the detective who I really liked and thought I could actually get serious with, but alas he ended up moving away for a new job. Again, where was that warning?!?

However my most recent prediction is far more specific. We are now on the hunt for a man of Irish descent, called Lachlan with a surname something like Flanagan, Finnagin, Flarrity or O’Brien.

Last month I attended an industry event and met a Flanagan. My heart skipped a beat when he introduced himself. Could it be true?!?! Could this be my future husband? Turns out probably not. I think he may have been gay. Well, that must be the reason why he hasn’t asked me out. Right? Right?!?!

So let’s keep our eyes peeled for this Lachlan guy everyone, eyes peeled!!

If the psychic said it, it must be true….

Sharing is caring

As a 32 year old single woman searching for that elusive single male in Sydney that doesn’t bore and/or repulse me, I often retell my dating dramas to my coupled up friends for their amusement.

Yes amusement – often things happen to me that you just couldn’t make up and it eases my pain to share these stories with others!

I also loved reading a great blog about dating in Sydney http://www.huntingforahusband.com which I read over a couple of days end to end. It finished a while back and I have found myself at a loss without it!!

So I decided I’ll give writing my own blog a go and here it is…