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.

A tour of Melbourne's laneways: Part 1

Hosier Lane.

Especially magic if stumbled upon by accident.

Shameless self promotion

Need more silly

My kooky friend Karls - a refreshingly hands-off, let-him-discover-his-limits kind of mother - is over at my flat with her 5 year old son, who has disappeared to the bathroom. Eventually I realise that constant hissing noise is the sound of the taps running.

I pop my head into the bathroom. He's standing at the sink, both taps covered in soap - too slippery to turn off.

Whatcha doing? I say.

Washing the taps for you, he says.

The previous time he came to visit, he played with a soft Barpazoo toy of mine, which has traveled with me since I bought it during my first trip to Paris eight years ago. In his excitement and 5 year-old-boyishness, he tears it open. I am upset and a little annoyed, but then I realise that it's a toy for chrissake - it's meant to be played with.

This is the boy who, while riding his bike recently, yelled out "Look Mum, no hands!", let go of the handlebars and promptly fell flat on his adorable little face. This little scamp doesn't know the meaning of the word "fear". 

Later on, we are lying on the grass in the park while he tears around the playground. She tells me that on their way over, he told her that he's in love with me. My heart melts.

The things kids can teach us, eh? Don't get too attached to objects. Take risks. Give your love freely and whole-heartedly. And when busted, make up a story so cute that the other person can't possibly be mad.