I met Trevor at a trivia night. Isn't that where everyone finds boyfriends? LOL. He was my first in a string of four year relationships. And I'm not going to get all soppy on you now and tell you how 'wonderful' it was. It's irrelevant. Yes, he took me out to fancy restaurants and entertained me by thinking up the most interesting places to visit- and this may help to explain my lofty standards. But the focus is this: I'm going to remember the beginning of how it ended. And that is to say....
Open relationships are garbage.
I mean, Trevor was overseas, having previously been disloyal to me and now we were in a quasi-relationship. What the hell is that?
So there was Russell, the brother of a friend of my brother's (are you confused yet?) and we were on a boat, which you all know I don't have a great track record with, and it was Valentine's Day. Success! Pash! This experience showed that I daren't be afraid of picking up on a boat, because it can happen, even with alcohol involved. Anyway, I don't know what weirded HIM out but I suspect those two GARBAGE words: OPEN RELATIONSHIP!
That was the only incident in the whole so called 'open relationship' that I could bring myself to do such a thing. And from then until that June/July when it was officially over, I punished myself. Ugh! Open relationships are GARBAGE!
After that, I was understandably quite upset, so I drank a lot of beer at the local pub. So much beer that I ended up with the biggest drop-kick the whole world has ever met. He had no aspirations, no real job, no life, no licence, no conversation skills, no charm, no looks.... NOTHING. It was a real moment of beer goggles... until I actually 'met' him in the morning and he was totally in love with me. OH MY GOD!
I went overseas. I was, after all going to change Trevor's mind. But it was the most stupid idea I have ever had. Although he professed that he wasn't seeing anyone, he was working with his future wife. With the mission to pash a Swede, I set off on the prowl on Christmas eve, at a Swedish nightclub and met Lars. He was a gardiner. The literal translation of his job description in Swedish was a 'flower teacher', as a 'gardiner' is actually the word for curtain. Anyway, the apple cider was the most beautifully sweet stuff and it was reasonably cheap, Lars was a Swede, albeit a boring one, and we had a boring kiss only made memorable by the fact that he was Swedish.
Then I met the Harvard graduate, Malcolm. What a fine specimen he was! Lawyer specialising in Native Title. Highly intelligent. Great conversationalist. Cute. It was like a piece of chocolate I was just DYING to eat. Now I have re-read this paragraph, I would go so far as to say here was your Mr Darcy, your Colin Firth. In EVERY way....But... OH NO.... There was baggage. And he took his Louis Vutton suitcases and hopped on to the metaphorical plane. Needless to say I was devastated and if I saw him again, I would possibly just stare and sigh.
Next, it was nightclub time. What was I thinking of mixing with classy people anyway? There was a particular joint which was named after a part of a candle and used to be the name of a popular eighties toy..... I'm sure some of you are familiar with the place but I am avoiding naming it directly to save my reputation. Anyway, I met Harry, Sam and Dan here. Harry was cute and tall but he was VERY young at five years my junior. He was a tradie and a really nice guy. We went to the Pancake Parlour on a date. Although..... it didn't feel like a date.... It felt like me talking to myself for two hours because he had the social skills of an ant. So I said goodbye to him, only to run into him at the club further down the track and find out that he still had the hots for me. It was time to run away, time to make up a lame ass excuse and leave.
Wow! Then there was Fred. The chemistry there was AMAZING. He was short and for the first time in my life, I didn't care that he was short! He had no foreseeable complex about his height, he was cool and confident, he actually spoke as much as I did and he wasn't a bad kisser either. I was on a trip to Albury and staying in a caravan with gal pals. He was on a trip to Albury staying in a caravan with mates. Everyone was on a trip to Albury staying in caravans! There were people everywhere. It was an amazing trip and I thought a lot about Fred when I returned. However, it seemed that all he wanted was a little 'fun'. I carry too much guilt to have 'fun'.
Sam was trying to get over a girl that screwed him over. He was rubbish. He didn't really know what he wanted, he was not the brightest tool in the shed and... yeah.... I just re-read that.... He was a tool. He worked at Target and looked like he would for the rest of his life. He was a nice guy and a great pash. He paid for dinner.... But this whole situation was going nowhere- on both sides.
Dan was AMAZINGLY cute. He came over to me at the bar next to the club and started talking. We had a lot to talk about. I had a lot to stare at. He was SUCH a nice guy. So, there were copies of Playboy in the toilet and that bothered me, but he asked me to be his girlfriend and well, he was cute so I said yes. We went on a holiday to some lake somewhere and he even let me drive his new Holden! The first thing I did was spin it out of the driveway with a cheeky grin! :-p Anyway, poor Dan was not very smart at all. He didn't remember a whole lot and he would make up bullshit stories. Dan was the man who made me HATE bullshit stories and Kevin was the man who reinforced that. It didn't help that these two boyfriends came one after the other.
Anyway, I knew it wasn't working and I was thinking about dumping Dan, but he got in first. I was fine about it, really, but a friend told me that she would give me $50 to ditch Dan and I couldn't get the money unless I tried to get him back. I tried poems, the usual pathetic stuff, but, to no avail. Poorer and dateless, I decided to give Kevin yet another try. I had already dumped him three times, but he wouldn't go away and he was oh so NICE. After bidding goodbye to my single life with an Irish stranger at an inner city pub, so began the next four years of my life.
And this brings me up to 2009!
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