Once again I am taking a well deserved break, a hiatus from the wondrous online matchmakers, from the time wasters and from the dick pic sending obsessed. (Yes, men, we know you have them, yes, I know you’re proud of your male members’ size, girth and ability to perform. But I do not need to see action shots or videos from your previously saved album. I just don’t need to see it! If I don’t know you, it does nothing but turn me off.)
I’ve come to the realisation I’m going to be alone forever. I’ve already starting looking at purchasing a litter of cats. British short hair are my cat of choice. With a chunky body and round, sad looking face, it’s like I’m looking in a mirror!
I’ve preemptively joined a cat lovers club on Facebook and have restarted crocheting my winter blanket, so far 10 years in the making.
Do people still do decoupage? As I feel it would be an appropriate hobby to start at this stage of my very single and depressing life. Anyone in need of a decoupage box? I’ll be taking orders soon.
So my last few dating experiences have been, let’s just say, akin to a multi-car pile up, on the freeway, in peak hour, during a heatwave, with the air conditioning on the blink.
Where to start? I’ve had a few more dates that I’ve yet to mention, most of them weren’t too bad. But all have led me to saying goodbye to RSVP…… for now.
But I’ll start where I left off with the last blog. What I didn’t mention, the few details that I didn’t previously include which have had a few close friends in hysterics. The last guy I mentioned, the guy I hooked up with, the one that I knew was going to be a one night stand, but helped me recover from the man child I had been seeing, the one that was a great conversationalist, had fantastic taste in music, the 48 year old….. well….. that’s what he had on his profile. To set the mood, the lights were dimmed, we were slightly out of breath, we’d just partaken in some action in the bedroom, and after all was said and done, laying on the bed in postcoital bliss, he told me that he may have embellished on his profile. He wasn’t 48, he was 55! Was he the oldest guy I’d slept with? Holy moly, that’s only 15 years my senior! Of course it’s the oldest guy I’d slept with, I really haven’t had that many. (4 to be exact) and 55years old, was definitely the top of the list. He asked me if it bothered me. I replied that it didn’t, because, really, it’s not about the number, but how you act. But what did bother me, was that he lied on his profile. Why is it, that it’s okay for them to lie on their profile? He was upfront about everything else? Why lie about your age?? Oh well, too late by that point. It didn’t really worry me too much.
But as we were drifting off to sleep, he asked if I would mind if he could put on his CPAP machine. Well….. ?What could I say??? No you can’t breathe tonight? I said no problem, and as he attached the machine to his face, then put on what only could be called an elbow warmer, I had to stifle a giggle. How quickly the mood had changed from sensual, to pure comedy. He must have seen my face and explained it…. kept his elbow warm, he had arthritis in it, after he’d had a fall and broken his arm. I couldn’t contain my laughter any more. I was in hysterics, I had just slept with a guy that was 55, which on it’s own wasn’t a big deal, but he’d had a previous fall, had arthritis, wears an elbow sleeve to keep it warm and needs a CPAP machine, to adequately breathe overnight, it was like I was taking a medical history from an elderly patient!! Once I’d recovered from my bouts of hysteria, we both fell asleep. After a few hours I snuck out, leaving the 55 year old sleeping to the gentle hum of the CPAP machine.
Onto the next perfect match, or two. I actually think I may have had better luck on that 80’s tv show! I mean Dexter WAS pretty accurate.
The 2 new matches. One was a truck driver, the other a government employee.
The truck driver was very keen to start with, he worked shift work, so he understood my sleep/work pattern. He was great at texting, which is perfect for me, and he likes to travel.
So we met for a date. A pub, it was nice, the food was nice, the conversation, a bit awkward. He was an over sharer….I mean, anyone who knows me, (or reads my blog) knows I’m pretty open, but there’s a few things I wouldn’t mention on a first date. He liked to talk himself up, talk about how he competed at national level in sport, toured overseas etc etc, he also name dropped all the doctors he was friends with. He also listed all of his assets. The properties he owned and the businesses he’s invested in. (To tell you the truth, I don’t care how much you’re worth, what you earn, or what you own, I care if you’re a good person, you can make me laugh and family means everything to you….. that’s about it)
But what was to be the highlight of the date, was the vivid description of how his mother had died. How she had been in hospital for a minor procedure, was getting ready to go home and had had a fall whilst freakishly getting both arms caught and unable to break her fall. So she had fallen head first to the ground, her nose had been pushed back into her brain. As she lay there unconscious without assistance, her brain swelled so much her skull split! Then when he organised the coffin for her funeral, they had to get it specially made to accomodate the size of her head! The story being told, whilst I was attempting to eat chicken satay. I mean…. why???? Why would you tell that story on a first date???? Obviously he was traumatised, but why did I have to be?
But silly me, I give people a second chance. I’d continue chatting with him. He obviously didn’t feel the same way, I didn’t react with enough enthusiasm to his stories, or I didn’t stroke his ego enough, so, his messages slowly reduced until he completely disappeared. So another one bites the dust.
And behind curtain number 2. Government worker and single Dad of one child. His beliefs and morals seemed to be aligned with mine, same sense of humour, likes to chat. So of course I was prepared for a terrible date. What was he hiding? Was he actually 60? Did he wear dentures? Did he have a weird fetish? Did he have a collection of toenail clippings he’d kept since 1974?
I nervously went to the date, a lovely pub in Guildford. He was early, waiting for me. Always a winner, when they are punctual. He had a lovely smiling face and was quietly spoken. He too, looked a bit nervous.
He was so sweet and had taken the time to make a bit of a game, some questions cards to ask each other to get to know each other, to avoid the awkward silences, to have a bit of a laugh at each other. It worked, it worked really well. We had a laugh, and knew more about each other that we never would have just in normal conversation in the same time frame. We had a not so great meal, but I really enjoyed the company and conversation. After dinner we had a walk around Guildford. Before saying our goodbyes. On the way home I called my bestie to tell her how well it all went. The best date ever!
It was a lovely night and the over the next week, we continued to chat and message. It was so easy, my cynical view of online dating was starting to waver. I’d finally met a decent guy, one who didn’t lie, one who had similar views to me, who had gone through many of the same things I had. Until…… there’s always an until. Until, I get a message, A very long message, that explained how regretfully he couldn’t start a relationship, that he needed to spend his time on his child that was having a few issues. That he couldn’t commit whilst she needed him.
Of course I understood, your kids come first, but I was devastated. Back to my cynical view of online dating.
So for all those that have enjoyed my dating adventures, I’m sorry, I’m having another break. Don’t worry though, give me a few months and I may try another site. But until then, the blogs won’t stop! I’ve had so many people tell me some of their stories, that I’ve got heaps of dating material.