Tag Archives: bloggingfundamentals

A shout out to all the ambos

It has recently come to my attention that paramedics don’t always have the highest opinion of nurses. I don’t know why they think so poorly of us. I certainly hope I’ve never offended anyone. But I think ambo’s/paramedics are bloody fantastic!

They have one of the hardest jobs in the world. First on the scene to car accidents, assaults, heart attacks, drug overdoses, drownings. If you can think of it, they’ve probably done it. Us nurses and midwives have the luxury of back up, we have our colleagues, other nurses and midwives, doctors, psychologists and even security when we need them. We also have all the equipment. Those awesome humans also known as paramedics don’t have any of that. They’re on their own, dealing with things we could only imagine. Dealing with people who can be, in no particular order- in pain, scared, grieving, drunk, high on drugs, hurling abuse, threatening with violence, bleeding, dying, giving birth….. any, or all of the above, and they do it with very little thanks or acknowledgement.  
So from this nurse and midwife to you paramedics out there. THANK YOU….. you guys rock.

And if you happen to drop off a patient in the middle of the night to my hospital, come and say hello to me in the emergency centre. I’ll make you a cuppa. Presently, I’m the one with the black eye

Wendy xx

An epic battle lost. 

An an epic battle occurred in my household this week, something akin to Rhonda Rousey taking a beating from Holly Holmes. I was the one who ended up worse for wear. My worthy opponent was left unscathed.

Let me set the scene……

I had come home from a very long nightshift, to find my son had cleaned the house! That in itself was a wonder, I thought the heavens would open and a choir of angels would sing Hallelujah! The dishes were done, the bedrooms and living rooms tidied, the floors vacuumed. I was in complete shock. I knew he’d done it to get his pocket money, but usually that’s not enough incentive do it, obviously he’s completely skint. After singing his praises, and transferring the aforementioned money into his bank account, I took the boys to school. Upon my return, I slipped off my Birkenstocks, cracked a cold Coke Zero and cooked my self some toast. 
With tomato on toast and a Coke Zero in hands, I made my to my very much loved couch. A few steps from my destination, I slipped on what I later realised was spray and wipe which my son had used to clean up his spilt coco pops and milk, on the tiles. Instead of attempting to break my fall with my hands, like a normal person, I instinctively tried to save my Coke and toast (you may now realise how I prioritise my food over my own welfare) I successfully saved both toast and Coke, whilst face crashed into the arm of my beloved couch. It may have brought a tear to my eye at the time, but wasn’t overly painful. So I sat myself down with feet up and enjoyed my breakfast prior to getting to bed, in child free peace.

Upon waking I realised my eye was sore. I attributed it to my being run down and sleep deprived from nightshift and I thought I had developed a sty in my eye. I shrugged it off and pottered around the house preparing dinner, ironing my uniform etc before hitting the shower to get ready for work. It was until I was in the bathroom that I saw what was causing my eye to be sore….. I had a black eye! It looked hideous, just on my right side underneath my eye, but hideous all the same. I thought about attempting to hide it, but after consulting my Facebook family, I owned it and walked into work as if I’d lost a fight to a worthy opponent.

My colleagues took great delight in regaling stories of my foray into UFC cage fighting, to anyone that would enquire about my injuries. My patients stole awkward glances at me, obviously thinking I was a victim of domestic abuse, until I explained my woeful story, luckily it gave them all a laugh. (I don’t think anyone really appreciates the lengths I go to, to make my patients laugh)

 My son apologised, for leaving unwiped spray and wipe on the floor, but as I said to him, I’d much rather a black eye than to have to do housework whilst doing my nights…… so thanks Dean xxx

My exciting week as a hermit 

So nothing too exciting to report this week from me.
BUT……. I’ve successfully transitioned into becoming a hermit. Can you believe it??? Success within a week!! I’ve spent my entire week off at home, doing hermit things, didn’t get to do the Netflix marathons as planned, as I was looking after my boys who have conveniently contracted gastro. That’s right people, don’t be jealous now, I had an entire week relaxing at home cleaning up vomit from every corner of Adam’s room, (unfortunately he hasn’t quite worked out how to vomit in a toilet bowl yet) Maybe he’ll master it in the next 15 years. Dean made it to the toilet, but missed the bowl. But luckily he can clean it up. I however, spent my Monday cleaning up vomit, washing vomit filled bed linen and clothes and tending to miserable boys. I spent a considerable amount of time moving Adam’s queen size bed trying to find an elusive vomit that I could smell but couldn’t see. He’d managed to squeeze an enormous vomit between the side of the bed and the wall. It looked like a Pro Hart masterpiece down there!


The smell permeated the whole house. I used 2 whole cans of Glen 20, then moved on to scrubbing the carpet with what I’ve found to be an amazingly adaptive product, a Sard Wonder stain remover spray. It removes the stains AND it removes the vomit smell and replaced it with refreshing eucalyptus. That’s a win/win for this hermit Mum. I’ll be stocking up on payday.

(The wonder product)

(Dean will kill me for that photo…. and yes, he’s wearing my dressing gown)

But the excitement doesn’t end there. In between loads of washing, scrubbing and deodorising, I played and lost games of words with friends. I know, everyone wants my life, you’re all very jealous.
(What on earth is an Etwee Paul?)

All I can say is Thank God for the one big night of friends, food, football and an amazing fountain filled with Margheritas. Thanks boys, it made my week. xx 

Online dating…… some clarifications

So….. I’ve been chastised by a friend, that I have been a bit one sided with my dating commentary. That I paint the men in a negative light, but aren’t so forthcoming with my actions. So this is for you Jon…..

Do I like having sex? You bet I do. I’m having my rebellious teenage years now. Having sex and drinking alcohol. 2 things I hadn’t really experienced properly until last year. Now I enjoy both. “General fuckstickery”….. if can quote the aforementioned friend.

Have I hooked up with a guy or two? Why yes, yes I have. Knowing full well what I was in for. No expectations. None of them ever said they were looking for a relationship.

Do I want a relationship? Yes, yes I do. For as much as I like sex, I want the whole package. I don’t want to go around sleeping with random men. I want someone to grow old with. We don’t have to get married, we don’t have to even live together, but I want some commitment from them, that they actually want to be in a relationship with me. That they want to go out with me, be seen in public together and maybe go away on holidays together. Be there for me when I have a bad day. Celebrate with me when things are great.

So when I blog about guys like the manchild and his tantrums, it’s not that I didn’t like sleeping with him, I did. Maybe he mistook the fact that I was very much enjoying seeing him, shall we say, on fairly frequent basis for action in the boudoir, maybe he mistook that to mean that, that was all I wanted. Maybe I am partly at fault. But….I did specify on everyone of these occasions that I wanted more. That I wanted to get to know him. That on my days off, I wanted to go on a date. What I have issue with, was his inability to accept that I wanted more, when he had emphasised early on, that that is what he wanted too. I wanted a proper relationship. He either changed his mind, or never was really interested in a relationship and wanted me to just have sex with him. But, the clincher was when he said I wasn’t allowed to keep looking for someone who wanted a relationship, whilst he was allowed to.. That’s my issue. The lies and double standards.

As to the CPAP wearing older man. I had a great time. I’d go back to visit him. Yes, he’s older and wears an elbow warmer to bed, but he’s a great conversationalist, intelligent, made me laugh and was fun in bed. So if I feel that if that’s what I need, another fun and entertaining night, I’ll certainly go back again. But it’s not what I’m looking for in the long term.

I hope that clears a few things up. I am not and will never be a man hater, I’m not a prude….and I love sex as much as the next person. If not more. 

As to my profile, the next time I try online dating. Apparently this should be my bio….

Is that better Jon?

PS, I still think you’re a dick xx

Becoming a hermit

I think I’ll become a hermit.

The recent bout of online dating has left me drained and emotionally battered. I’m also devastated that the plan to adopt 27 cats has been foiled, when I remembered I’m highly allergic. There’s not enough Zyrtec in the world to stop my eyes puffing up like Puffin Fresh donuts, or stop me wheezing like a 90 year old emphysemic patient, with only days to live. I have to apologise, the orders for decoupage boxes me also be delayed. As I’ve come to realise that I lack, well, shall we say, I’m completely devoid of both talent and the patience it takes to cut out millions of magazine pictures and arrange them in artistic way. Mine would end up looking like a creepy stalkers’ photo board.  

So I’ve changed my plans and decided to become a hermit. Not the crustacean kind, the kind where I voluntarily live in seclusion from society. Usually it’s done for “religious “reasons, but I’m doing for, “I can’t be bothered trying any more” reasons. 



I realise that working may pose a problem for my transformation into becoming a hermit, but I’m willing to sacrifice my career for my dreams. I’m no quitter. I could quite happily spend my days on the couch, binging on Netflix and my favourite movies on iTunes, eating popcorn and drinking Coke Zero. I could get my endless supply delivered to my doorstep. I also hear Dan Murphy’s delivers. So there really isn’t any obstacles to stop me achieving my dream. I think my full transformation will be complete by Thursday. I’ll will have had my two days off from work and children, so I should be well on my way to hermitism. (I know, I’ve made up that word, but it sounds good)

No dates, no people, no messaging, no sexts, no dick picks, just me, my TV and my best friend – microwave popcorn.

The only problem I can foresee, is that I am catching up with friends tomorrow night, I have a job interview on Thursday and I have to pick the kids up on Friday, maybe church on Saturday and ….oh…. And I might go to paintballing on Sunday and go out for the Arsenal v Spurs game Sunday night, but other than that….. I’m all good for hiding away at home.

Manners, where have they gone?

Over the last 2 weeks of school holidays, I’ve become more cranky than usual, today I realised why. Manners….. or lack thereof.

Now I was always taught to use manners, to be respectful, polite and kind to others. It’s just the way I was brought up. I had presumed that everyone was taught the same at home. I certainly hope that I’m doing the same with my sons. Although as teenagers, they don’t always respect their mother whilst at home, I generally get feedback that my boys are well behaved and have lovely manners whilst out. Thank God! I’d voluntarily relinquish my parent listener if that wasn’t the case.
But what do most people think manners are? Do the youth of today even know what having manners means? I don’t know whether it’s my emerging old woman crankiness, the fact that over half the population are now younger than me, or that people are just plain devoid of the ability to use manners. But I seem to come into contact with some very rude and ill mannered people of late.

People don’t hold doors open for others and kids don’t stand up on public transport for the elderly, disabled or heavily pregnant. In general people seem to be wrapped up in their own little bubble. Unaware, or just don’t care about people around them. What happened to “Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you”?? Or for those who don’t speak fluent bible. “Treat everyone as you would like to be treated”

What I’ve noticed whilst out and at work, is that not many other people have been raised with the same emphasis on manners. There’s no please and thank you. I’m lucky if I get eye contact. And if the patient remembers my name after looking after them for hours on end, I’m ready to set off fireworks and shower them in gifts! But those patients are few and far between. I’m not expecting gifts for doing my job, and I understand in an emergency their minds aren’t in the right place, they might be in pain or scared, or both, I really don’t expect anything from them. But it’s the non emergent patients and family. The ones that really should have gone to their GP, but still want to be seen and treated within minutes of their arrival. The ones that seem to forget that we have limited staff and other patients that need our assistance before we see them. I’m not asking for much, other than a please and thank you occasionally.

And don’t get me started on the drivers on the roads. When have we become so unAustralian that we no longer give the nod of acknowledgement when we someone flashes their high beams on letting us know of an upcoming speed trap, or a thank you wave when someone lets you in?

Surely I’m not the only the only one out there that still nods and waves! Dean and I have made a game of it. I let someone in and we wait for, hope for, the wave. I let someone in and we wait for, hope for, the thank you wave. But it’s a bit like Christmas eve, you’re all excited, waiting for Santa to come…… then you realise you’re an adult and Santa’s not coming and you’ve got to supply the presents and cook and clean and go through bed exhausted. Waiting for acknowledgement is a bit like that.

So tonight when I go to work, I’m going to up the ante. I’m going to let in as many people as I can on the drive to work, smile and say please and thank you as much as humanly possible and be thankful that I’m at work. If good manners can rub off and make a good impression on one person. It’s worth it.

So get out there and be nice, thoughtful and well mannered, people. Don’t get cranky and cynical like me xx

Online dating. Part 4, the final instalment….. for now.

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. 

Wendy xxx

Online dating. Part 3 

Part 3…….take a seat ladies and gentleman, it’s been a bumpy ride this last month, so strap in and I’ll take you on a journey that will blow (or permanently damage) your minds!! 

This blog is bluntly honest and I may be accused of over sharing.  So  if you’re prudish, or are members of my family, or just don’t want to hear about my dating/sex life. Look away now….. abort. I repeat, ABORT! This mission is too dangerous, you may never get these visions out of your head!
So, last time I blogged, I had been on a few dates with a certain 50 year old gentleman, well…..at least I thought he was a gentleman. 

Well after a week I found out he was a toddler in a man suit. This blog is primarily dedicated to him. 

I’d never witnessed a grown man having a temper tantrum, but can now tick that off the bucket list. And what may you ask, was the trigger for said tantrum?? From the first date, he had reiterated time and time again, that he wanted a relationship….

….NOT….JUST…..SEX. 
Well, I’ll let you use your imagination, let’s just say things got intimate, I won’t go into details, but it was good. He then began messaging at all hours of the day and night. Now I’m sure most of you know what sexting is, some of you may have participated, it can be fun, but this not so gentlemanly man, took it to extremes. No leading into it, no shall we say foreplay. 
This had all developed over a week, a week that I was working and I was coming up for days off. Two glorious days where I don’t have kids or work. Two days a fortnight, that’s it. So on these days off, I had planned on going on a date with this man child. 
When I asked him if he was free either of those days, he said he was busy. Not a drama, I’d plan to catch up with other friends. I asked him one more time, as I actually wanted to get to know the guy, he said he couldn’t and maybe I should go back on that dating site and find someone else!!! What the actual Fuck??? When I asked him why he reacted that way, he replied that he had seen me online. Well, it escalated quickly from there…..
Firstly- I explained that a few guys had messaged me, and I messaged them back that I was dating someone at the moment….. well maybe not in those words.
Secondly- if he knew I was on the dating site, so was he!


It deteriorated from there. Texting back and forth, I tried to take the high road…… but I’ll let you decide.








After that disastrous week of dating, I tried to brush it off like toast crumbs. But like most things in my life, you think you’ve got them all off, but later on you find a few that  you have got some stuck in your bra.

 Even though you try and be discreet, you end up having to stick your whole hand down your top to retrieve them.

 So I tried not to be hurt, booked in another date on one of my days off. The date went well, great to talk to, funny, excellent taste in music. I had a a great night…. but, (of course there’s a but) it was only going to be a hookup, I knew from the invite to his house, but it was what I needed. To completely forget the tantrum, I went and did exactly what I had been accused of, but had been innocent of, until then. 

Then a few days later…… more texts from the man child. 


I may have led him to believe I was contemplating it….. but 4am???


Then this response, when I regretfully couldn’t make it. 


I continued to get texts explicitly depicting what he wanted me to do almost every day for two weeks. I ignored them all, then ended up blocking him. He then called me from a different phone number and left a message. 

After that night, I decided I needed a break from this whole online dating business. I went to delete my account and low and behold, I had new matches. What’s the harm?? Have a look, see what the online wizards have matched me with. One guy stood out. Take a chance I thought. What’s going to happen??
Well….. I’ll leave you on that cliff hanger. Way more to tell. But I don’t want to do any irrevocable damage to your brains. 

The moody teenager

Now I know we’ve all been one once….. a teenager that is, and for most of us I’m sure we were all moody at some point. I know I was moody, I remember thinking my parents had no idea how hard my life is, but I really don’t think I was as insolent and egocentric as my eldest has been lately.  (Well, I hope I wasn’t) He seems to have enjoyed the bit of freedom I’ve given him and decided that he wants it all ….now. He wants to be treated like and adult, wants to make all the decisions about his life, without any assistance from any parental figure (what would we know) yet still be financed, fed, watered, taxied and sheltered without so much as a thank you. 
Last weekend said teenager asked if he could go to a friends house on the public holiday Monday. I said it wasn’t a problem as long as he was home by 1200 as I’d already made arrangements to meet a friend at 1230. I stupidly thought we’d discuss travel arrangements and the finer details in the morning. Silly me. I woke at 0700 to find he had already left. I had no idea what friend he was meeting up with, where he was going or what he was doing. He also thought it was not a good idea to answer his phone when this mother, now a raging dragon, called him. 

At 1130 he texted back apologising for not saying good bye and that he was going to head home after he had gone to McDonald’s for lunch. The dragon in me had settled a little and I reminded him that he needed to be home by 1230. I awaited the responding text……. a few minutes later, I get another text saying the train won’t get to the station until 1300, then he had to catch another bus to get home, he’d be lucky to get home by 1400. 

The dragon in me awoke once again. Not only had I been worried sick all morning, but now my plans would have to change once again! I composed myself attempted to calm down my angry texting fingers, which threatened to crack my phone screen with each letter typed, stating I would pick him up from the train station and drive him home. 

He sensed my anger at this point and tried the come up with alternative plans, however, none were going to improve my mood or the need to cancel my plans. 


I then packed my youngest into the car, with many a complaint from him, he was happy chilling at home, and drove to the train station. I used the cruise control the whole way. I was scared my angry accelerating foot, would overpower the sensible me and get me in trouble. I didn’t want to compound my mood with a double demerit speeding fine. 
When I got there, my eldest wouldn’t even look at me. I was able to keep my mouth shut for a whole 27 seconds, before my mouth exploded with what could only be called “accusatory Mum verbal diarrhoea”.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Where were you?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“What were you doing?”

“Watching wrestling, you don’t even like wrestling!”

“Who were you with?”

“Costa, who on earth is Costa?”

“Where do you know him from?”

“Where does he live?”

“Perth? Where in Perth? Perth isn’t helpful in an emergency!”

“Do you realise that if something happened, I’d have to tell the police the last time I saw you was last night? I had no idea where you were, what you were doing, or who you were with!”
It was at this point I think I took a breath. It was also at this point that I saw in the rear vision, that not only was my son not apologetic, but he had a look of disgust on his face, as if I’d had no right to even ask him these questions. At 16, he was obviously an adult, and what on earth was his Mother raving about?
I stopped. Realised I was getting nowhere. Then just said, I was disappointed. 
A few hours after being home and me not saying another word, he came out of his room and said sorry. In the same breath, he asked what was for dinner.
Back to normal. 
Now I know this is normal, but I wish it could be over now. I want my kind, caring, fun, loving, son back. Not this long haired, infrequently bathed, over deodorised, lout that inhabits the front room of my house. I really hope this stage is short lived.
I really apologise to both my parents for my moodiness. My parents, who for some unexplained reason decided it was a good idea to have 4 children. How they survived the teenage years 4 times over, I’ll never know. xxx

Online dating. Part 2.

Here’s the next instalment…..

Well, I’ve bitten the bullet, after my first disastrous attempt of online dating last year, I’ve finally built up enough courage to try again. Let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger and I’m certainly not going to find my ideal partner whilst working nightshift in a women’s hospital. AND I’ve come to the realisation that I don’t want to grow old, alone and the owner of 27 cats. So….. back on the proverbial horse. 
I had to psych myself up this time around. I had to tell myself not to take things personally, don’t freak out when you get unsolicited dick pics, don’t be so sensitive. Maybe I should lower my standards? Change my parameters for my ideal partner search? Should having ones own teeth really be a priority? Do I really need a man that has the same expectations as me when it comes to personal hygiene? Should I view illicit drug use, just as an optional extra????

In a word no…. I won’t lower my standards, or my search parameters but I no longer look at the photos or age. I’ve gone on dates where they look amazing in the photos and in person they look like Chewbacca. Or they look hideous on their photos and are surprisingly good looking in person. Plus, I’m no Supermodel, so why should I judge a person by their cover? And age….. well, I’m 40 now, no spring chicken myself, who knows what I miss out on if I use +/- 5 years of my age as a criteria. So now I’ve expanded my age search requirements to under 55. 

Since I’ve reactivated my account, I’ve been on 6 dates. They haven’t been all bad. However, I have found that I have absolutely no idea what men think. I think I’m fairly upfront and honest, I don’t play games, and I’ll always be kind and let people down easily if I think it’s not working. Most men don’t seem to play by the same rules.

I went on one date, drove 50km to meet up with him, chatted away for hours over brunch, thought we had a good time and had a connection, he said that next time, he’d drive up to my area for a date, to never hear from him again. 

I’ve gone on other dates that said on their profile that they want a relationship, want to find a partner to spend their lives with, to learn pretty quickly that they just want to hook up. Come on guys, just say what you mean/want. I’m sure there’s girls out there wanting the same thing. 

One guy I met up with, after texting for weeks, looked fantastic on paper, we liked similar things, both worked in caring professions. But when we met up, he had the personality of wet toilet paper. So I ended it gently but pretty quickly. 

I have had luck making another friend however. This guy was great, perfect gentleman on our coffee date. We were both quite shy, don’t have a huge circle of friends, kids aren’t needing us as much. The only problem, was that he was a male version of myself. It would have been like dating me! Weird, really weird. But, we get along like we’ve known each other for ages. Everything was easy. So we’ve decided to continue being friends. Everyone can do with more of those. 

The most recent guy is in his 50’s, seems nice so far, had a few dates now and things seem to be going smoothly, I even got flowers and champagne on the first date! So we’ll just have to wait and see what the next few weeks brings. 

So I haven’t fallen in a heap, I haven’t  met with an untimely death, but I don’t think I’ve met the one just yet. 

…….So until the next instalment.