OK. So Soleil has now been single for a whole two years. It has been a wonderful adventure- but the sharing stops with this entry. *START SUMMARY*
1) The Edwardo scenario needs to stop. Everyone is telling me that he is a tool because he is only pursuing the physical. It's counter-intuitive and I am going to fall in love with him. It's already started to happen and it's wrong, wrong WRONG.
2) My friend that I love soooo much who I wanted so badly in grade 6 is at it again. I love his cuddles and he says he is waiting for me. I can't handle this. He shouldn't wait. Pressure will only end up in me doing something I regret. I know my life is NOT "Zack and Miri Make a Porno".
3) The musician from my cousin's wedding..... He's got me listening to Florence and the Machine's 'Cosmic Love'.
'The stars, the moon they have all been blown out. You have left me in the dark. No dawn, no day I'm always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart'
'I heard your heart beating- you were in the darkness too. So I stayed in the darkness with you'.
Now- I love twilight. I love the red hues and the sharpness and definition that the sun gives everything. If it was guaranteed that twilight meant sun, blue skies and that heightened contrast I love- I wouldn't mind being in the twilight. But the one that Florence describes... I'm sorry. It sounds shit.
I love the song. I just listened to it over and over. And then I thought of Ben Harper's 'Amen Omen' and the end of my most passionate love affair- The one in my late teens and VERY early twenties. And I can link these two songs to that moment- easily. What an awful time- but what a cornerstone of my existence. Of this blog. Of everything. We stayed in the darkness together until it was unbearable. And we dwelt on the darkness so it engulfed us. We should have eaten some popcorn and watched a movie instead. But no- we dwelt. Because we knew it had been love and rather than changing with it- once those fireworks died we sat in the dark and moped. And THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN (At least- from this half of a new relationship).
So- As I write, looking out and admiring the twilight, I know that it's time to delete those internet dating accounts and to just stop looking full stop. It's time to just let myself be. And if that means that there is someone out there who fits me well- I'll let it happen. I'm done with this game. No eleventh hour this time. The game is up. I've done my dash- I've dabbled enough in a 'dark side' I never thought I would visit and I'm richer for the experience. My stories have made and reinforced me. I am just someone who has been looking for something that nobody truly understands. Something that everyone has an opinion about but is just a stereotyped, cliched book of fluff- and as mentioned in my bio, I transcend the stereotypical and cliched. It's time to go.
Bye bye, my lovelies!
Soleil
xoxo
HOME
H-O-M-E S-W-E-E-T H-O-M-E
Welcome, young and old to the exploits of Soleil. Raw insights into the dating life of a relatively young 'fish' in a big sea. A blog anyone in the Western world who has ever dated can relate to at some point. Where it was good enough for others it was good enough for Soleil. She pushed the boundaries and found herself right back at the start again- armed with knowledge and wiser for the experience. It's a story without the Hollywood ending- But with a character determined not to fall into a Bridget Jones heap because as Lily Allen puts it 'all she wants is a boyfriend'. Soleil wants to live her own life and not conform to a societal expectation- but rather the expectations she has of herself. This is her journey. ENJOY!
An easy to navigate menu of Soleil's new exploits:
THE FINALE
2009-2010
For the previous menu- *CLICK HERE*
2011
*CLICK* for December- what I am prepared to say (and believe me- there ARE omissions. BIG ones):
(This was published in 2011- hence the sub-heading)
*CLICK* to know why Soleil is a slut:
*CLICK* to read about her festival boyfriends:
*CLICK* for a mushy mission statement- realism alert
*CLICK* for Kombi Van- Part Deux
Welcome, young and old to the exploits of Soleil. Raw insights into the dating life of a relatively young 'fish' in a big sea. A blog anyone in the Western world who has ever dated can relate to at some point. Where it was good enough for others it was good enough for Soleil. She pushed the boundaries and found herself right back at the start again- armed with knowledge and wiser for the experience. It's a story without the Hollywood ending- But with a character determined not to fall into a Bridget Jones heap because as Lily Allen puts it 'all she wants is a boyfriend'. Soleil wants to live her own life and not conform to a societal expectation- but rather the expectations she has of herself. This is her journey. ENJOY!
An easy to navigate menu of Soleil's new exploits:
THE FINALE
2009-2010
For the previous menu- *CLICK HERE*
2011
*CLICK* for December- what I am prepared to say (and believe me- there ARE omissions. BIG ones):
(This was published in 2011- hence the sub-heading)
*CLICK* to know why Soleil is a slut:
*CLICK* to read about her festival boyfriends:
*CLICK* for a mushy mission statement- realism alert
*CLICK* for Kombi Van- Part Deux
Kombi Van #2
I had another weekend of weddings and frivolities. My cousin had the most laid back wedding possible for 300 people. It was amazing. A beach wedding and reception at a homestead in the country- with a bus to ferry people to their accommodation until the wee hours of the morning.
And Soleil- felt- lucky.
She was hearing some amazing compliments.
My 'dress' consisted of my mother's skirt, a piece of gift ribbon and a pin- topped off with a button necklace pendant- the button being ripped off another outfit. It was the artiest thing I had ever done in the fashion sense. And.... It just worked. My mother was in awe of it. I looked beautiful- and no one would have a dress like it.
The 'Boston Strangler' from last year was flabbergasted. He of little tact proclaimed 'I don't know if I should say this or not but WOW. Have you lost weight?'. I wish I could have honestly returned the compliment but it was a lie. He had put on about 25 kilos and my sister-in-law couldn't believe that I had been interested in someone so 'big'. He was commenting on me to other people and had to be reminded that his girlfriend was actually in attendance!
There were boys EVERYWHERE trying to impress me. They were trying to get me alone to talk to me. The 'Boston Strangler's' brother was amazed at my Rocky knowledge. Then there was Maverick- so called after Tom Cruise's character in Top Gun.
Maverick has been given a provisional acceptance into the Air Force as a pilot. Hmm..... pilots. They seem to be away a lot AND they are super duper smart. DOUBLE WIN! This one is no exception. In fact, I had met him before at the Tool concert last month. We revealed our inner geeks to eachother via crossword puzzle on the train journey home. This guy ticks boxes.
My cousin thought it would be a good match. My other cousin's friend says that he's not a bad lover- also a nice little piece of advice that ticked boxes. Maverick was practically in. The problem was- did I find him attractive?
Maverick is tall. He has a shaved head- which I NEVER go for. I love the thickest hair possible on a male- like Tom Cruise in real life plus..... an extra metre in height. Tom Cruise is SUCH a short arse. But I really go for the preppy pretty boy/jock look. And Maverick doesn't have that. He admits to being nothing but an unmotivated prick growing up- which intrigues me because he is anything but that now. So.... things progressed and Maverick and I ended up making out in the kitchen. It was getting hot and heavy and he was trying to persuade me to go back to his- OR to stay with me. But..... even though I have not seen Edwardo for weeks now, I just wasn't going to go there in this situation. I told him that he would have to wait. He asked to give ME his number. I promptly replied that THAT was not the way my world worked and that if he was ACTUALLY keen he would need to acquire my number through other means and that I would be open to the prospect of seeing him again through this avenue.
So Maverick left, reluctantly. There were a few people who had to drag him. But I was happy. There was more of a field to play.
Then there was the jacuzzi crowd. The homestead had a huge indoor swimming pool and hot tub. It was 4 in the morning and everyone was loose in the tub. There was Thunderbird- a member of an original band who actually earns money for his art. He was the red-headed guitarist who is often 'made' to dress up in costume on stage. (Well..... he IS a ranga!) Once he even played nude!? (ROCKSTARS!!) Anyway, to put it his way he was- 'melting like butter' in our conversation. He reminded me of 'Blonde Boy Wonder', who was really a ranga, whose company I kept last year. He was from Tasmania- same as my former ranga lover and he even spoke the same. But this guy- purely with the status of muso on his belt- was WAY cooler.
Enter drunk Shane Warne type into the hot tub. He tells Thunderbird that HE likes me and to piss off. We flirt. Thunderbird returns..... and let the game begin. Warney continues for a little with his eye contact and his smiling. He then says that he wants me to get out of the spa so he can give me a private viewing of his 'member'. EWW! And when he presents his crotch area to me and I look away- he gets the message and starts hitting onto my cousin instead. THEN my cousin asks 'Do you have a girlfriend, Warney?' and the reaction is a blunt, resounding 'Yes!'. Hmm..... what a keeper!
So Thunderbird is in the spa. He grabs my hand and starts telling me that we wear rings on certain fingers to signify certain things. The thumb- travel. The index- authority. The middle- you like to party. The ring- you are looking for love (or have it already). The pinky- something about elevated status- I forget. Anyway. He has me holding hands and then he starts following me around. He gives me a foot massage. It is probably the best one I have ever had. It didn't even tickle! Then.... he decides to be my cave man protector. I sleep on the couch- he sleeps below me on the floor. It was sooooooo sweet! So I invite him to spoon. Soon the offer is there of relocating to the kombi. But- this is a family wedding and I have a paranoia about waking up in the morning to find the fam surrounding the kombi van staring in through the window at a butt naked daughter/sister. NOT COOL! To add to the stress, the kombi hadn't been 'christened' so it would have been quite a sordid arrangement. I don't like or appreciate the expectation. PLUS- I was thinking about the other guy. :-/
So Thunderbird and I spooned. He got sick of the fact I hadn't kissed him- so I did. And.... and stuff. And then.... THEN the party moved to the same room as us. AWKWARD! We had nowhere to go- it would have been very obvious to have just retreated to the Kombi. Plus- the expection. I didn't like it. So we stayed there- in an awkward position on the couch- giggling. Eventually he went to the toilet and I spread out and fell asleep- he was relegated to the floor again. Subservient male muso. I didn't think that was supposed to happen. I guess I'm not your regular groupie. In the morning, my breath was foul. I wasn't going to kiss him. In fact, we hugged and that was it. Even though his kisses----- may have been better than the other guy. I was told that Thunderbird's gig is on this coming Tuesday at a well known venue in Melbourne. I can't disclose that because then his identity is compromised- but there is an expectation that I- the lover of music I am- will be there. But I most probably won't. I'll rock up to one of their European shows instead. I wonder if he will remember me?
Morning arrives. Maverick comes back. I hide in a bedroom. Thunderbird and Maverick are talking. Oh shit. This is awkward. I don't even think they have ever met before. I have to stay in the room for at least an hour until the coast is clear. The scenarios that were possible with me out in the lounge room are not good. I don't want them both to know they have shared the same girl. There is general talk about how it wasn't obvious who the single guys were and talk about who picked up. The girls stay tactful to protect me and the boys stay quiet- all the while I am frozen in this nearby bedroom- with paper thin walls and no iPod to distract me. Maverick leaves. I walk out of my self-imposed exile. Thunderbird gets my number. He sees a picture of me dressed as Pippi Longstocking on my cousin's laptop. He's impressed. The theme was what you wanted to be when you grew up. As a ranga- he's oddly a little flattered that I ever wanted to be one. In the words of Kamahl, 'Why are people so unkind?'. :-p
Anyway, Soleil has made an impact. And as for Maverick, I'll keep you posted as to whether or not he calls.....
And Soleil- felt- lucky.
She was hearing some amazing compliments.
My 'dress' consisted of my mother's skirt, a piece of gift ribbon and a pin- topped off with a button necklace pendant- the button being ripped off another outfit. It was the artiest thing I had ever done in the fashion sense. And.... It just worked. My mother was in awe of it. I looked beautiful- and no one would have a dress like it.
The 'Boston Strangler' from last year was flabbergasted. He of little tact proclaimed 'I don't know if I should say this or not but WOW. Have you lost weight?'. I wish I could have honestly returned the compliment but it was a lie. He had put on about 25 kilos and my sister-in-law couldn't believe that I had been interested in someone so 'big'. He was commenting on me to other people and had to be reminded that his girlfriend was actually in attendance!
There were boys EVERYWHERE trying to impress me. They were trying to get me alone to talk to me. The 'Boston Strangler's' brother was amazed at my Rocky knowledge. Then there was Maverick- so called after Tom Cruise's character in Top Gun.
Maverick has been given a provisional acceptance into the Air Force as a pilot. Hmm..... pilots. They seem to be away a lot AND they are super duper smart. DOUBLE WIN! This one is no exception. In fact, I had met him before at the Tool concert last month. We revealed our inner geeks to eachother via crossword puzzle on the train journey home. This guy ticks boxes.
My cousin thought it would be a good match. My other cousin's friend says that he's not a bad lover- also a nice little piece of advice that ticked boxes. Maverick was practically in. The problem was- did I find him attractive?
Maverick is tall. He has a shaved head- which I NEVER go for. I love the thickest hair possible on a male- like Tom Cruise in real life plus..... an extra metre in height. Tom Cruise is SUCH a short arse. But I really go for the preppy pretty boy/jock look. And Maverick doesn't have that. He admits to being nothing but an unmotivated prick growing up- which intrigues me because he is anything but that now. So.... things progressed and Maverick and I ended up making out in the kitchen. It was getting hot and heavy and he was trying to persuade me to go back to his- OR to stay with me. But..... even though I have not seen Edwardo for weeks now, I just wasn't going to go there in this situation. I told him that he would have to wait. He asked to give ME his number. I promptly replied that THAT was not the way my world worked and that if he was ACTUALLY keen he would need to acquire my number through other means and that I would be open to the prospect of seeing him again through this avenue.
So Maverick left, reluctantly. There were a few people who had to drag him. But I was happy. There was more of a field to play.
Then there was the jacuzzi crowd. The homestead had a huge indoor swimming pool and hot tub. It was 4 in the morning and everyone was loose in the tub. There was Thunderbird- a member of an original band who actually earns money for his art. He was the red-headed guitarist who is often 'made' to dress up in costume on stage. (Well..... he IS a ranga!) Once he even played nude!? (ROCKSTARS!!) Anyway, to put it his way he was- 'melting like butter' in our conversation. He reminded me of 'Blonde Boy Wonder', who was really a ranga, whose company I kept last year. He was from Tasmania- same as my former ranga lover and he even spoke the same. But this guy- purely with the status of muso on his belt- was WAY cooler.
Enter drunk Shane Warne type into the hot tub. He tells Thunderbird that HE likes me and to piss off. We flirt. Thunderbird returns..... and let the game begin. Warney continues for a little with his eye contact and his smiling. He then says that he wants me to get out of the spa so he can give me a private viewing of his 'member'. EWW! And when he presents his crotch area to me and I look away- he gets the message and starts hitting onto my cousin instead. THEN my cousin asks 'Do you have a girlfriend, Warney?' and the reaction is a blunt, resounding 'Yes!'. Hmm..... what a keeper!
So Thunderbird is in the spa. He grabs my hand and starts telling me that we wear rings on certain fingers to signify certain things. The thumb- travel. The index- authority. The middle- you like to party. The ring- you are looking for love (or have it already). The pinky- something about elevated status- I forget. Anyway. He has me holding hands and then he starts following me around. He gives me a foot massage. It is probably the best one I have ever had. It didn't even tickle! Then.... he decides to be my cave man protector. I sleep on the couch- he sleeps below me on the floor. It was sooooooo sweet! So I invite him to spoon. Soon the offer is there of relocating to the kombi. But- this is a family wedding and I have a paranoia about waking up in the morning to find the fam surrounding the kombi van staring in through the window at a butt naked daughter/sister. NOT COOL! To add to the stress, the kombi hadn't been 'christened' so it would have been quite a sordid arrangement. I don't like or appreciate the expectation. PLUS- I was thinking about the other guy. :-/
So Thunderbird and I spooned. He got sick of the fact I hadn't kissed him- so I did. And.... and stuff. And then.... THEN the party moved to the same room as us. AWKWARD! We had nowhere to go- it would have been very obvious to have just retreated to the Kombi. Plus- the expection. I didn't like it. So we stayed there- in an awkward position on the couch- giggling. Eventually he went to the toilet and I spread out and fell asleep- he was relegated to the floor again. Subservient male muso. I didn't think that was supposed to happen. I guess I'm not your regular groupie. In the morning, my breath was foul. I wasn't going to kiss him. In fact, we hugged and that was it. Even though his kisses----- may have been better than the other guy. I was told that Thunderbird's gig is on this coming Tuesday at a well known venue in Melbourne. I can't disclose that because then his identity is compromised- but there is an expectation that I- the lover of music I am- will be there. But I most probably won't. I'll rock up to one of their European shows instead. I wonder if he will remember me?
Morning arrives. Maverick comes back. I hide in a bedroom. Thunderbird and Maverick are talking. Oh shit. This is awkward. I don't even think they have ever met before. I have to stay in the room for at least an hour until the coast is clear. The scenarios that were possible with me out in the lounge room are not good. I don't want them both to know they have shared the same girl. There is general talk about how it wasn't obvious who the single guys were and talk about who picked up. The girls stay tactful to protect me and the boys stay quiet- all the while I am frozen in this nearby bedroom- with paper thin walls and no iPod to distract me. Maverick leaves. I walk out of my self-imposed exile. Thunderbird gets my number. He sees a picture of me dressed as Pippi Longstocking on my cousin's laptop. He's impressed. The theme was what you wanted to be when you grew up. As a ranga- he's oddly a little flattered that I ever wanted to be one. In the words of Kamahl, 'Why are people so unkind?'. :-p
Anyway, Soleil has made an impact. And as for Maverick, I'll keep you posted as to whether or not he calls.....
Mission statement
You ALL told me to throw away the checklist. ALL of you. Well, here it is. My love mission statement instead:
Mr 'Perfect',
I don't need you to complete me- just to compliment me. I don't need you to think I'm perfect and vice versa but I do need to be myself and for that to be enough.
I need you to try to understand me as I will you- not forcing opinions but using logic and reason to reach new heights. If you preach, I will retreat. Please keep in mind that even if I don't seem to think efficiently, I must not be afraid to speak my mind to you as I have been in known to do in the past. I am not preaching- I am looking for knowledge. I'm quite deep- you are too. Please listen and encourage and I will do the same.
Let's love or tolerate the quirks rather than allow them to impinge negatively on our feelings. Sometimes I shy away from myself if I like someone 'too much'. Pedestal love is a thing of the past. You are not better than me. I am not better than you. Encourage me- sometimes I need to be reminded of my own awesomeness. And if my volume is too much for you to bear, or the slurping or the eating is noisy- know that it's not my intention to piss you off.
Keeping the whites of our eyes is more important than anything. We need to laugh at ourselves rather than the misfortunes of others. Empathy is one of my strengths, but life on the whole should be positive. Let's smile and laugh through problems- this might require a nap and some chocolate, but nothing is tough if we ourselves are tougher.
As for the rest, the physical stuff all sounds so Mills and Boon. Of course it is important, but it's easy enough to figure these things out. We will know if it works because we know what we like and we know how to reciprocate. We are comforted by each others scent and sleep well in the same bed at night.
I still have what I perceive as a happy freedom and you still have yours. We are two free souls who have a better life now that we know each other. Compromise does happen BUT.... you are not a puppy dog and I am not your nagging shadow.
Mr 'Perfect',
I don't need you to complete me- just to compliment me. I don't need you to think I'm perfect and vice versa but I do need to be myself and for that to be enough.
I need you to try to understand me as I will you- not forcing opinions but using logic and reason to reach new heights. If you preach, I will retreat. Please keep in mind that even if I don't seem to think efficiently, I must not be afraid to speak my mind to you as I have been in known to do in the past. I am not preaching- I am looking for knowledge. I'm quite deep- you are too. Please listen and encourage and I will do the same.
Let's love or tolerate the quirks rather than allow them to impinge negatively on our feelings. Sometimes I shy away from myself if I like someone 'too much'. Pedestal love is a thing of the past. You are not better than me. I am not better than you. Encourage me- sometimes I need to be reminded of my own awesomeness. And if my volume is too much for you to bear, or the slurping or the eating is noisy- know that it's not my intention to piss you off.
Keeping the whites of our eyes is more important than anything. We need to laugh at ourselves rather than the misfortunes of others. Empathy is one of my strengths, but life on the whole should be positive. Let's smile and laugh through problems- this might require a nap and some chocolate, but nothing is tough if we ourselves are tougher.
As for the rest, the physical stuff all sounds so Mills and Boon. Of course it is important, but it's easy enough to figure these things out. We will know if it works because we know what we like and we know how to reciprocate. We are comforted by each others scent and sleep well in the same bed at night.
I still have what I perceive as a happy freedom and you still have yours. We are two free souls who have a better life now that we know each other. Compromise does happen BUT.... you are not a puppy dog and I am not your nagging shadow.
My festival boyfriends
I just saw the previous post sitting in the outbox and I thought..... I might as well post it. I didn't really give December away. There were plenty of things I missed out. So.... on to the remainder of January. My goal was 10 guys. I can only count 8. There could have been 9 if I hadn't have given my friend the cold shoulder last night. He has been dishing out the flattering compliments for a while now and he had his arms around me while we were watching a movie. And I just seized up. Welcome back to picky-ville, Soleil!
So.... I went to a hippy festival the other weekend where the highs were high and the lows were even lower. I have never experienced anything quite like it.
Happy High Herbs has a lot to answer for. It's a shop- selling herbs. Legally. Down Brunswick St way. God knows how they get away with it. Anyway, they sell liquid cocaine. Now someone mixes this into your solitary can of UDL and you have a hazy night of thinking you are top shit- waking up in an orange Kombi van next to a yank whose name you have to learn by getting to know his friends over a breakfast of 'Frog In A Hole'. The coffee Yankee made for me had plastic floaties. The pots and pans were dirty. So I declined on the eggs and peeled myself a banana instead.
Yankee walked me back to my camp. We had a meeting time of 7 pm at the Sunset Stage. And..... from my end.... It didn't happen.
Then, there was the guy that looked like Hunter S. Thompson from 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'. I kept telling him how boring he was (he was in Superannuation) and he found this endearing. We kissed, we danced, we spoke. Hunter had a slight lisp but was intelligent, just like Yankee. I decided, at this stage in my life, that education was the deciding factor between 'go there' and cold-shoulder. So I went there. He walked me back to camp at sunrise. I retired to a place a lot less comforting than the orange Kombi van.
When I got home, Edwardo messaged. He came over and we didn't even kiss once. He came over another time and.... I better not love him. That would ruin everything.
Then there was a barbecue- where my friend I have known since primary school asked me to marry him. He is actually quite serious and he tells me he loves me all the time. He worries about me and often plays the knight in shining armour..... but I turned it into a joke wedding where there were nude bridesmaids and jelly wrestling. There is shitloads of chemistry there but...... I just can't. My priorities aren't in the same place.....
Another male friend was over last night. There is no chemistry there so I am not even going to kiss him. Not even for the good of the tally. I am wondering though..... what about that guy I never ended up on a date with? Should I attempt to go there? It's probably a waste anyway. It's always rejection when I ask guys out. Edwardo would say something about my attitude. He'd say I should do it. So.... Maybe I should. :-/
So.... I went to a hippy festival the other weekend where the highs were high and the lows were even lower. I have never experienced anything quite like it.
Happy High Herbs has a lot to answer for. It's a shop- selling herbs. Legally. Down Brunswick St way. God knows how they get away with it. Anyway, they sell liquid cocaine. Now someone mixes this into your solitary can of UDL and you have a hazy night of thinking you are top shit- waking up in an orange Kombi van next to a yank whose name you have to learn by getting to know his friends over a breakfast of 'Frog In A Hole'. The coffee Yankee made for me had plastic floaties. The pots and pans were dirty. So I declined on the eggs and peeled myself a banana instead.
Yankee walked me back to my camp. We had a meeting time of 7 pm at the Sunset Stage. And..... from my end.... It didn't happen.
Then, there was the guy that looked like Hunter S. Thompson from 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'. I kept telling him how boring he was (he was in Superannuation) and he found this endearing. We kissed, we danced, we spoke. Hunter had a slight lisp but was intelligent, just like Yankee. I decided, at this stage in my life, that education was the deciding factor between 'go there' and cold-shoulder. So I went there. He walked me back to camp at sunrise. I retired to a place a lot less comforting than the orange Kombi van.
When I got home, Edwardo messaged. He came over and we didn't even kiss once. He came over another time and.... I better not love him. That would ruin everything.
Then there was a barbecue- where my friend I have known since primary school asked me to marry him. He is actually quite serious and he tells me he loves me all the time. He worries about me and often plays the knight in shining armour..... but I turned it into a joke wedding where there were nude bridesmaids and jelly wrestling. There is shitloads of chemistry there but...... I just can't. My priorities aren't in the same place.....
Another male friend was over last night. There is no chemistry there so I am not even going to kiss him. Not even for the good of the tally. I am wondering though..... what about that guy I never ended up on a date with? Should I attempt to go there? It's probably a waste anyway. It's always rejection when I ask guys out. Edwardo would say something about my attitude. He'd say I should do it. So.... Maybe I should. :-/
* A draft from December*
I was going to take this down and stay silent for the whole month of December.
I wasn't going to tell you about my friend who tried to kiss me
I wasn't going to tell you about the 5 guys who emailed me after a single speed dating session of 10 and the fact that I ignored them all. (When my cousin did it, he had a 90% strike rate- so 50% seems quite dismal in return.)
And I wasn't going to gossip about Edwardo and his 'formula' for relationships. Edwardo states there are three important parts to a relationship:
1- The physical connection
2- The friendship
3- Relationship compatibility
And apparently.... I only have 1 and 2. Yet still he is around...... calling me by his ex-girlfriend's name. Well I suppose I have been warned. And.... even though I rock his world in number 1...... and he rocks mine...... There comes a time when all good things come to an end and I am not in the mood to facilitate that just yet....
I wasn't going to tell you about my friend who tried to kiss me
I wasn't going to tell you about the 5 guys who emailed me after a single speed dating session of 10 and the fact that I ignored them all. (When my cousin did it, he had a 90% strike rate- so 50% seems quite dismal in return.)
And I wasn't going to gossip about Edwardo and his 'formula' for relationships. Edwardo states there are three important parts to a relationship:
1- The physical connection
2- The friendship
3- Relationship compatibility
And apparently.... I only have 1 and 2. Yet still he is around...... calling me by his ex-girlfriend's name. Well I suppose I have been warned. And.... even though I rock his world in number 1...... and he rocks mine...... There comes a time when all good things come to an end and I am not in the mood to facilitate that just yet....
Overload
I said December boys had an amnesty and I will stay true to my word. The problem is, December was such a blur that I don't think I will do it justice. Edwardo was still there, there was a speed dating night where half the participants wanted a date with yours truly and my friend took home the organizer. And.... There were others.
Now it's 2011 and my kissing slutiness has come to the fray. 5 pashes in 8 days. I'm sure there are many out there who have surpassed this and my hats go off to you. So... Who were these guys and did any of them call?
#1: New year's pash
I was at a rock concert with my friends and I shocked them with the knowledge that I have never pashed a random at new years. My bestie scoured the crowd and used the line 'my friend needs a new years pash but if you don't want her, I will be happy to oblige.' Smooth! :-p
So there I was, in my dreadlock wig pashing with no other intention. Who knows how old he was. Who knows his name. And.... The feeling was gone. It was an empty pash. A waste of time. I should have given him to my friend instead.
#2: Friend pash
I won't talk too much about this one. It wasn't bad and I've done it before. It confuses the shit out of me. It cannot be- I don't know why he keeps trying!?
#3: Three pashes in one weekend. The first we will call Blue as he is a jock and Blues supporter. I was out with a friend to meet her new beau. He had a friend called Blue. Blue liked singing karaoke- which I love. He studied what I studied at uni- which meant he had brains. I ended up at his. He dropped me off via cab at the station that afternoon. He didn't drive me home. He complained that I just lived too far away. I distanced myself from him in the morning. There were some health issues he had and it makes me sound like a bitch for writing him off got that... But while macking... I couldn't work out whether or not he was attractive to me. He would say 'why the face, kiddo?' and... Like I was going to say anything!
#4 and #5: Same night, same bar.
One looked like River Phoenix. He grew up in a hippie commune. He was interesting. Art teacher. Told me about the cult he was in, how his parents gave him the hallucinogenic drug talk at 15 by giving details of their bad trips, and he seemed to have fantastic musical taste- the pick of the month so far in terms of guys. He was quite young- but he was an alright kisser- not the best but alright. Now, while we were pashing, the guy who had his eyes on me all night cracked the shits. River laughed and kissed me again. My friend thought the jealous guy was a better match for me, so she performed an Oscar winning role as placator.
Mr Jealous unbuttoned his shirt. He wanted to show me that he had sewn the buttons on himself. A Welsh English teacher, Mr Jealous was different once I had kissed River. He was really annoyed. His music taste was also exceptional. Even better than River's on parts- but he liked some stuff that I loathe like Devendra Banheart (damn autocorrect!). He told me about the Melvins concert- I might have to go. He also shared the knowledge of the FIB festival in Spain. I'm now dying to go. We kissed- but it reminded me of the new years kiss- forced. The heart was not all in. He wanted to come home with me. It didn't happen. The kiss was half-arsed.
I didn't get digits because I didn't ask. Blue never called but that makes it easy for me and now, now i have a sore throat. Better not be anything sinister. Maybe I deserve it.
Now it's 2011 and my kissing slutiness has come to the fray. 5 pashes in 8 days. I'm sure there are many out there who have surpassed this and my hats go off to you. So... Who were these guys and did any of them call?
#1: New year's pash
I was at a rock concert with my friends and I shocked them with the knowledge that I have never pashed a random at new years. My bestie scoured the crowd and used the line 'my friend needs a new years pash but if you don't want her, I will be happy to oblige.' Smooth! :-p
So there I was, in my dreadlock wig pashing with no other intention. Who knows how old he was. Who knows his name. And.... The feeling was gone. It was an empty pash. A waste of time. I should have given him to my friend instead.
#2: Friend pash
I won't talk too much about this one. It wasn't bad and I've done it before. It confuses the shit out of me. It cannot be- I don't know why he keeps trying!?
#3: Three pashes in one weekend. The first we will call Blue as he is a jock and Blues supporter. I was out with a friend to meet her new beau. He had a friend called Blue. Blue liked singing karaoke- which I love. He studied what I studied at uni- which meant he had brains. I ended up at his. He dropped me off via cab at the station that afternoon. He didn't drive me home. He complained that I just lived too far away. I distanced myself from him in the morning. There were some health issues he had and it makes me sound like a bitch for writing him off got that... But while macking... I couldn't work out whether or not he was attractive to me. He would say 'why the face, kiddo?' and... Like I was going to say anything!
#4 and #5: Same night, same bar.
One looked like River Phoenix. He grew up in a hippie commune. He was interesting. Art teacher. Told me about the cult he was in, how his parents gave him the hallucinogenic drug talk at 15 by giving details of their bad trips, and he seemed to have fantastic musical taste- the pick of the month so far in terms of guys. He was quite young- but he was an alright kisser- not the best but alright. Now, while we were pashing, the guy who had his eyes on me all night cracked the shits. River laughed and kissed me again. My friend thought the jealous guy was a better match for me, so she performed an Oscar winning role as placator.
Mr Jealous unbuttoned his shirt. He wanted to show me that he had sewn the buttons on himself. A Welsh English teacher, Mr Jealous was different once I had kissed River. He was really annoyed. His music taste was also exceptional. Even better than River's on parts- but he liked some stuff that I loathe like Devendra Banheart (damn autocorrect!). He told me about the Melvins concert- I might have to go. He also shared the knowledge of the FIB festival in Spain. I'm now dying to go. We kissed- but it reminded me of the new years kiss- forced. The heart was not all in. He wanted to come home with me. It didn't happen. The kiss was half-arsed.
I didn't get digits because I didn't ask. Blue never called but that makes it easy for me and now, now i have a sore throat. Better not be anything sinister. Maybe I deserve it.
A new, easy to read format
HI EVERYONE!
Welcome newbies and oldies alike to the adventures of Soleil!
Exciting news. Those of you who were finding this page difficult to navigate are in for a treat. Visit http://howtochooseaguyintendays.blogspot.com/p/soleils-guide-to-dating.html for an easy to navigate page!
Welcome newbies and oldies alike to the adventures of Soleil!
Exciting news. Those of you who were finding this page difficult to navigate are in for a treat. Visit http://howtochooseaguyintendays.blogspot.com/p/soleils-guide-to-dating.html for an easy to navigate page!
Newsflash! Soleil spill guts! (Warning - this is boring!)
A moment of admission. It’s not just the checklist that is stopping me from being successful with the male race. There’s a lot more to it. This is the entry which should be banned from this blog and has sat in my drafts box for a long time. Because it gives too much away- because it leaves me open to psychological manipulation by potential suitors who read this blog. Phoenix (awesome band by the way) says 'everything is everything. The more I talk about it, the less I can control'. And..... That's why the style of this entry is just so different. Because the narcissist in me that everyone loves shows vulnerability. And since when is that cool? Epic fail, Soleil. But, this blog is therapeutic to me. And it helps me to understand myself- as well as to let others inside. It is for this reason that I have decided to be honest.
You know this much- I bag out guys. Those guys I like who are capable of committing, I am NOT honest with. I give the impression to them that I am after something casual. I did that in March with ‘awkward’ boy. In fact, it’s probably also why it was awkward- I was jinxing it. And you know what? I’ll probably do it again. Letting a guy in is difficult for me. So, I’m going to develop intense likes for guys that I can never have- just to cover it all up, remove my own sense of responsibility from the picture.
On a first date, my body language is always ‘Oooh! Boy!’ at the start and then it turns to ‘I’m too good for you, go away’. Alternatively, if it’s one where we pash, I give the impression that I am after sex. It’s in my kiss. It’s a good kiss- but it’s a passionate ‘Fuck me now’ kiss. And that is why it ALWAYS solicits that response. And I don’t know whether I’ll stop that any time soon either. I like it. They do too. And.... I also like turning them down and seeing their expressions of disbelief. ;-)
I guess this makes me what has been coined an ‘emotionally unavailable’ (and somewhat cruel) woman. Symptoms of this include:
1) No serious relationships in a long time
2) Keeping a jam packed schedule
3) Texting people rather than calling them
4) Liking ‘emotionally unavailable’ men (the guys I can never have)
You see, being single is the bomb. But.... I get something from the male species. I have male friends and I love them dearly. I get along with them really well. They have a different perspective on the world. And I REALLY like that. I LOVE males. It doesn’t seem that way- but it’s true.
In my own fucked up way, I am looking for a guy that is 'emotionally unavailable' and therefore, an asshole. This is because I remember being ‘happy’ with an emotionally unavailable asshole. I remember feeling chemistry with said asshole. *Start the violins* And that was enough to have me imagining being married to the guy- granted he helped me with these delusions of grandeur. He said we would get married. He promised he would never leave me for as long as I was alive. He said we would grow old together..... *Start the heavy metal* He also said I couldn’t climb into bed until I’d done 50 sit ups. And that when I put on weight, it was on my face. And he put me in fat jokes where I was always eating cake. And once he almost ran me over with his car. *Switch music off* But I don’t care about that. That’s nothing to me. 50 sit ups kept me focused on my weight. I DO put on weight on my face. And the car thing...... he was drunk. The promises he broke...... well...... I couldn’t reconcile them and they broke my spirit. There was an open relationship- and in my naivety I ignored the inevitable. Because..... I was in love. 100% ‘I would have died for him’ love.
And in truth, the potential to experience a love like that again scares the shit out of me. So I press the reject button before it gets too close. So, an asshole who WANTS a relationship- not going to get much of a look in. But, there will be interest. The asshole who doesn’t show much interest in me.... Hello, Mister! The guy who doesn’t want to get married (enter my last long term relationship). Well, hi there! I don’t want to marry you either. The thought of having your babies repels me. But, you can hang around for a while. Kevin wasn’t a 4 year rebound. He was a guy who changed from a marriage-a-phobe to Mr Committed. And when this change occurred, I started seeing him as ugly. Picking apart his traits, as if looking for a reason to get rid of him. Because, you know, he was a supportive guy. He would never pick a fight with me- it was always ME picking fights with HIM! (For entertainment) Look, he really did shit me, but he was a good guy. He would have made an amazing father- just not to my kids. He wasn’t badass enough. And he knew and would comment on this accordingly.
See, I’ve set myself up to fail. If I hadn’t, I would have someone to snog and nothing to blog.
And so, any crushes I have are going to be for guys that aren’t ready for commitment. Because I don’t feel ready for that myself. And the whole 'settling down' concept shits me. I'm sorry. But the next person that comes along is fine? That's insane!! Anyway, the point where I like a guy occurs just as they are about to pull away or have decided they don’t feel the same way. Defence mechanism. Plain and simple. My camouflage. I’ve just exposed my true colours.
Look, I wish none of my exes any harm. They were really important to me. They are all great people. But, like most other people in this world, I was hurt by one guy. Boohoo. Violins again I know. Pathetic. Get over it. And I agree- It's not that a pine over him. It's not that I would EVER take him back. It's not that I am so obsessed I would stalk him. But this love I had for him.....was both destructive AND beautiful. There was 100% chemistry AND fun times. And it’s the only time I have really felt that way. So, I’m in a bind. The chemistry was amazing, and I would love to replicate that chemistry. I love that he was a strong man and felt a need to protect me. I never felt that to the same extent as any of the others. And... It doesn’t mean I want the shitty-ness that came with our relationship, I think I am older and wiser in that respect. But.... I associate ASSHOLES with the strong man I had & the AMAZING chemical side of things. THAT’S the fucked up bit right there.
So- I guess this is why I am doomed. I just long for some guy who is capable of understanding this bullshit and not care. Yes, I want him. Hard core. But even then, the relationship is doomed. Because if he says he will commit, I will be turned off. On the other hand, I will have to try my hardest NOT to fall hopelessly in love with him and scare him off.... And..... later on down the track if he changes his mind and wants marriage and babies, I’ll still bail unless I've sorted this weird shit out. Lose-lose. Unless he’s a top notch asshole. In that case, everything is sweet. Because, deep down I want a guy I can marry. Maybe I'll even start a family. Asshole is just that. And all will be well.....Until divorce proceedings in 2024. 'I promise to love and cherish you.... until I decide you are too boring for me and I need to blog again. This will occur on December 13, 2024.' Yes.... Soleil's not messed up at all! ;-)
You know this much- I bag out guys. Those guys I like who are capable of committing, I am NOT honest with. I give the impression to them that I am after something casual. I did that in March with ‘awkward’ boy. In fact, it’s probably also why it was awkward- I was jinxing it. And you know what? I’ll probably do it again. Letting a guy in is difficult for me. So, I’m going to develop intense likes for guys that I can never have- just to cover it all up, remove my own sense of responsibility from the picture.
On a first date, my body language is always ‘Oooh! Boy!’ at the start and then it turns to ‘I’m too good for you, go away’. Alternatively, if it’s one where we pash, I give the impression that I am after sex. It’s in my kiss. It’s a good kiss- but it’s a passionate ‘Fuck me now’ kiss. And that is why it ALWAYS solicits that response. And I don’t know whether I’ll stop that any time soon either. I like it. They do too. And.... I also like turning them down and seeing their expressions of disbelief. ;-)
I guess this makes me what has been coined an ‘emotionally unavailable’ (and somewhat cruel) woman. Symptoms of this include:
1) No serious relationships in a long time
2) Keeping a jam packed schedule
3) Texting people rather than calling them
4) Liking ‘emotionally unavailable’ men (the guys I can never have)
You see, being single is the bomb. But.... I get something from the male species. I have male friends and I love them dearly. I get along with them really well. They have a different perspective on the world. And I REALLY like that. I LOVE males. It doesn’t seem that way- but it’s true.
In my own fucked up way, I am looking for a guy that is 'emotionally unavailable' and therefore, an asshole. This is because I remember being ‘happy’ with an emotionally unavailable asshole. I remember feeling chemistry with said asshole. *Start the violins* And that was enough to have me imagining being married to the guy- granted he helped me with these delusions of grandeur. He said we would get married. He promised he would never leave me for as long as I was alive. He said we would grow old together..... *Start the heavy metal* He also said I couldn’t climb into bed until I’d done 50 sit ups. And that when I put on weight, it was on my face. And he put me in fat jokes where I was always eating cake. And once he almost ran me over with his car. *Switch music off* But I don’t care about that. That’s nothing to me. 50 sit ups kept me focused on my weight. I DO put on weight on my face. And the car thing...... he was drunk. The promises he broke...... well...... I couldn’t reconcile them and they broke my spirit. There was an open relationship- and in my naivety I ignored the inevitable. Because..... I was in love. 100% ‘I would have died for him’ love.
And in truth, the potential to experience a love like that again scares the shit out of me. So I press the reject button before it gets too close. So, an asshole who WANTS a relationship- not going to get much of a look in. But, there will be interest. The asshole who doesn’t show much interest in me.... Hello, Mister! The guy who doesn’t want to get married (enter my last long term relationship). Well, hi there! I don’t want to marry you either. The thought of having your babies repels me. But, you can hang around for a while. Kevin wasn’t a 4 year rebound. He was a guy who changed from a marriage-a-phobe to Mr Committed. And when this change occurred, I started seeing him as ugly. Picking apart his traits, as if looking for a reason to get rid of him. Because, you know, he was a supportive guy. He would never pick a fight with me- it was always ME picking fights with HIM! (For entertainment) Look, he really did shit me, but he was a good guy. He would have made an amazing father- just not to my kids. He wasn’t badass enough. And he knew and would comment on this accordingly.
See, I’ve set myself up to fail. If I hadn’t, I would have someone to snog and nothing to blog.
And so, any crushes I have are going to be for guys that aren’t ready for commitment. Because I don’t feel ready for that myself. And the whole 'settling down' concept shits me. I'm sorry. But the next person that comes along is fine? That's insane!! Anyway, the point where I like a guy occurs just as they are about to pull away or have decided they don’t feel the same way. Defence mechanism. Plain and simple. My camouflage. I’ve just exposed my true colours.
Look, I wish none of my exes any harm. They were really important to me. They are all great people. But, like most other people in this world, I was hurt by one guy. Boohoo. Violins again I know. Pathetic. Get over it. And I agree- It's not that a pine over him. It's not that I would EVER take him back. It's not that I am so obsessed I would stalk him. But this love I had for him.....was both destructive AND beautiful. There was 100% chemistry AND fun times. And it’s the only time I have really felt that way. So, I’m in a bind. The chemistry was amazing, and I would love to replicate that chemistry. I love that he was a strong man and felt a need to protect me. I never felt that to the same extent as any of the others. And... It doesn’t mean I want the shitty-ness that came with our relationship, I think I am older and wiser in that respect. But.... I associate ASSHOLES with the strong man I had & the AMAZING chemical side of things. THAT’S the fucked up bit right there.
So- I guess this is why I am doomed. I just long for some guy who is capable of understanding this bullshit and not care. Yes, I want him. Hard core. But even then, the relationship is doomed. Because if he says he will commit, I will be turned off. On the other hand, I will have to try my hardest NOT to fall hopelessly in love with him and scare him off.... And..... later on down the track if he changes his mind and wants marriage and babies, I’ll still bail unless I've sorted this weird shit out. Lose-lose. Unless he’s a top notch asshole. In that case, everything is sweet. Because, deep down I want a guy I can marry. Maybe I'll even start a family. Asshole is just that. And all will be well.....Until divorce proceedings in 2024. 'I promise to love and cherish you.... until I decide you are too boring for me and I need to blog again. This will occur on December 13, 2024.' Yes.... Soleil's not messed up at all! ;-)
November
Soleil went to a party where the male ratio was quite high. The males were all computer nerds or taken, but my dad is a computer nerd and it's on my own personality CV back there in the annals of history, so, I can't write that off.
Soleil decided to socialise and sit next to a random stranger. I could tell he was nervous from the crackled 'hello'. And from then I thought- game on.
I was myself, and I even let slip about my blog! And on that..... there appears to be another male in the audience who would like a date just to see the write up. This makes me chuckle a little, I'm sorry you aren't my type- even though you are an awesome guy. Sometimes Soleil just gets a little too superficial for her own good. *Refer to checklist* But, do you know what? I told a friend of mine that I wouldn't write up on him and I ended up reviewing him to his face anyway. If your name starts with R and you have a thing for me, Facebook inbox me. I'll let you buy me dinner.
Moving along, Mr November wants to be called 'Edwardo', so, he can have that wish. The first character in this blog with the opportunity to name himself.
To confuse matters I want to jump around to my friend who POSSIBLY wants more. If you are reading this, more's not going to work out. You are a dear, dear friend and I actually do love you- but the chemistry is not right.
Edwardo on the other hand, is a totally different 'kettle of fish'. I like the chemistry. I like the kiss. He's well spoken. His wardrobe is not unsalvageable- it's a typical guy without a girlfriend fare- the cheap t-shirts and standard pants. Yellow is not my colour, Edwardo, but...... I liked the fact that the cars looked like smurfs.
So.... What's the problem? The problem is...... Edwardo just wanted to mack on the couch. And then drive me home. And then mack a little more- having given me the knowledge that he was in a six year relationship as little as three months ago. Now, Soleil is of two minds. One is that she doesn't like being lonely, and he's too nice to be a rebound fling . It could be detrimental to my cause. The other that, meh- she can keep looking and mack away- changing her attitude about a few of these things. He's cute, he's smart, he quotes the Yip Yips on Sesame Street- so there you have the trifecta. The small issues don't seem to bother me. He is well-spoken. He says brahhhhnch rather than branch. He isn't cool, but he accepts who he is- which makes him cool enough for me! He has a little weight on him, but I don't care. I remember when I had a 'little' weight on me. *sigh* It makes no difference. DO YOU HEAR THAT, TREVOR? Trevor used to make me do 50 sit ups before bed time to keep me in shape. And while I wish I was still as svelte as I was back then...... It was because there was psychological bullying involved.
So, Edwardo- you can stay around for now. This could be fun. Temporary, yes. An unusual place for Soleil to be, but....... nerd boy, I dig you enough AND I like the win-win situation. I can have companionship, keep looking AND I have now resolved that my oldest male friend in the universe is not the man I will marry- irrespective of the fact that in grade 6 I told my mother that we would- without a doubt. He he he! Funny shit!
Soleil decided to socialise and sit next to a random stranger. I could tell he was nervous from the crackled 'hello'. And from then I thought- game on.
I was myself, and I even let slip about my blog! And on that..... there appears to be another male in the audience who would like a date just to see the write up. This makes me chuckle a little, I'm sorry you aren't my type- even though you are an awesome guy. Sometimes Soleil just gets a little too superficial for her own good. *Refer to checklist* But, do you know what? I told a friend of mine that I wouldn't write up on him and I ended up reviewing him to his face anyway. If your name starts with R and you have a thing for me, Facebook inbox me. I'll let you buy me dinner.
Moving along, Mr November wants to be called 'Edwardo', so, he can have that wish. The first character in this blog with the opportunity to name himself.
To confuse matters I want to jump around to my friend who POSSIBLY wants more. If you are reading this, more's not going to work out. You are a dear, dear friend and I actually do love you- but the chemistry is not right.
Edwardo on the other hand, is a totally different 'kettle of fish'. I like the chemistry. I like the kiss. He's well spoken. His wardrobe is not unsalvageable- it's a typical guy without a girlfriend fare- the cheap t-shirts and standard pants. Yellow is not my colour, Edwardo, but...... I liked the fact that the cars looked like smurfs.
So.... What's the problem? The problem is...... Edwardo just wanted to mack on the couch. And then drive me home. And then mack a little more- having given me the knowledge that he was in a six year relationship as little as three months ago. Now, Soleil is of two minds. One is that she doesn't like being lonely, and he's too nice to be a rebound fling . It could be detrimental to my cause. The other that, meh- she can keep looking and mack away- changing her attitude about a few of these things. He's cute, he's smart, he quotes the Yip Yips on Sesame Street- so there you have the trifecta. The small issues don't seem to bother me. He is well-spoken. He says brahhhhnch rather than branch. He isn't cool, but he accepts who he is- which makes him cool enough for me! He has a little weight on him, but I don't care. I remember when I had a 'little' weight on me. *sigh* It makes no difference. DO YOU HEAR THAT, TREVOR? Trevor used to make me do 50 sit ups before bed time to keep me in shape. And while I wish I was still as svelte as I was back then...... It was because there was psychological bullying involved.
So, Edwardo- you can stay around for now. This could be fun. Temporary, yes. An unusual place for Soleil to be, but....... nerd boy, I dig you enough AND I like the win-win situation. I can have companionship, keep looking AND I have now resolved that my oldest male friend in the universe is not the man I will marry- irrespective of the fact that in grade 6 I told my mother that we would- without a doubt. He he he! Funny shit!
To follow Suit
I REALLY wanted something to write about. So.... what did I do? I played 'let's message Suit'.
The facts, however, were not stacking up in Soleil's favour. While Spring is relationship weather and I have seen single friend after single friend dropping off my party-party list, I have had zero luck. In fact, I'm in the negatives of luck at the moment- and I thought that Suit might be something to look forward to. I thought that maybe Suit was worth a shot. But.... the facts. The facts are....
1) Drunken texts do not constitute interest- yet many of the texts I have received from dear Suit have been sent while under the influence.
2) One phone call in a month is not really interest either. I called him once too......But I seem to message a lot more often then he does.
3) Text messages have become bed related. Not all of them, and yes, it's a little fun, but...... that's casual talk. That's not effort. That's wanting a booty call.
4) Suit was supposed to come over. BUT after I didn't commit to booty call..... he suddenly had work to do.
5) Suit sent a photo of his undies. Stripey. This seems to be the latest trend. Interesting....
But in all honestly, I'm not an idiot. I'm also not a piece of meat. And..... while I was looking forward to this he could have put in a bit more effort and granted me a date rather than a booty call. Picky? Not particularly. I needed dinner and he'd already eaten! He could have had two dinners.... for me. And now..... NOW it seems the messages have stopped. Goodbye, Suit. You were over before we even began. And now I accept my fate. Wanted- house filled with cats. Will suit perpetually single Soleil.
The facts, however, were not stacking up in Soleil's favour. While Spring is relationship weather and I have seen single friend after single friend dropping off my party-party list, I have had zero luck. In fact, I'm in the negatives of luck at the moment- and I thought that Suit might be something to look forward to. I thought that maybe Suit was worth a shot. But.... the facts. The facts are....
1) Drunken texts do not constitute interest- yet many of the texts I have received from dear Suit have been sent while under the influence.
2) One phone call in a month is not really interest either. I called him once too......But I seem to message a lot more often then he does.
3) Text messages have become bed related. Not all of them, and yes, it's a little fun, but...... that's casual talk. That's not effort. That's wanting a booty call.
4) Suit was supposed to come over. BUT after I didn't commit to booty call..... he suddenly had work to do.
5) Suit sent a photo of his undies. Stripey. This seems to be the latest trend. Interesting....
But in all honestly, I'm not an idiot. I'm also not a piece of meat. And..... while I was looking forward to this he could have put in a bit more effort and granted me a date rather than a booty call. Picky? Not particularly. I needed dinner and he'd already eaten! He could have had two dinners.... for me. And now..... NOW it seems the messages have stopped. Goodbye, Suit. You were over before we even began. And now I accept my fate. Wanted- house filled with cats. Will suit perpetually single Soleil.
WTF?!??!
So...... I give you the news that I am going on a date and then.......
Hello...... Soleil.....
HELLO.....
IS ANY ONE THERE?!?!
And the answer is-
After a cataclysmic car accident of epic proportions on the day of scheduled date....
I am still yet to meet Suit, the workaholic. And maybe he just not that into me. How can he be? I'm just a person he calls and messages occasionally..... Sometimes drunk.... sometimes....... EVEN sober.
So. That one is a BIIIIG question mark. The messaging/calling relationship is 'working' for him I suppose....And counting chickens is not such a good idea. It's time for ME to diversify my funds.
In other news, the boundary between friend and more than friends was blurred the other day as the vulnerable Soleil's 'knight in shining armour' best male friend comforted her on a cold, lonely night. God, it was weird. And I knew it would be. It was just..... wrong. Because kissing a friend- just feels..... WRONG. Angelina/Billy Bob wrong. I can't articulate how wrong. The kiss- it wasn't a fish kiss like the last friend who went there..... But devoid of chemistry it was just not what I was looking for. And I wonder- do guys feel that way when they kiss a chick who is too into them? Or.... do they feel the same ALL the time? And..... the fish-kisser..... He soon wandered into obscurity after having enough of the prize he was after. Will this guy follow suit? *sigh*
Women are in general more emotional beings. Women have male friends they DON'T want to bang. And..... I like to think that I have male friends who DO NOT want to bang me. BUT...... the majority of men I ask on this issue disagree. Men want to bang their friends and will, like the praying mantis and certain types of spiders, die trying. It's in times like these that I am glad, but a little confused with the idea of being a woman. I, personally like being able to differentiate my friends from my lovers rather than confuse my brain's feelings of love for my "other brain's" feelings of love. On this matter, none of my ex-boyfriends are my friends and..... While once upon a time this caused me angst, I can understand from the point of view of the stranger sex why friendships just don't work from their side. I also refer to Awkward Boy who, earlier in the year spouted a whole heap of bullshit on horoscopes in an attempt to get me out of his house that morning and then called with 'HIS' decision of 'let's be friends'. Weirdo.
And do you know what? I TRIED to be friends with him. Because I didn't want to sleep with his stoned ass ever again but considered him nice enough to hang out with. And...... He ignored my texts.... phone calls..... and...... 7 months on...... unfriended me from a popular social networking site. WTF?!?!?
And, finally, the rest of the news. I replied to an email from a guy with a tattoo that said 'Carpe Diem'. I like the motto. Seize the day. Dead Poet's Society. I LOVE THAT MOVIE! And.... As for the motto itself... It's important. I'm all for it. And I told him that. And then........
Waiting for reply....
Waiting....
Wai.... Oh
*You've got mail!*
Reply reads: 'Well you were a waste of money, weren't you?'
What the?! Guys. What is wrong with you? I REPLIED! Some of my family and friends tell me jokingly that I should contemplate changing teams. But.... After careful deliberation it will not happen for any less than a mute Scarlett Johansson. Why mute? Have you heard her sing? Anyway, it looks like this girl is on an impossible man hunt and needs to look beyond Suit. *sigh*
Hello...... Soleil.....
HELLO.....
IS ANY ONE THERE?!?!
And the answer is-
After a cataclysmic car accident of epic proportions on the day of scheduled date....
I am still yet to meet Suit, the workaholic. And maybe he just not that into me. How can he be? I'm just a person he calls and messages occasionally..... Sometimes drunk.... sometimes....... EVEN sober.
So. That one is a BIIIIG question mark. The messaging/calling relationship is 'working' for him I suppose....And counting chickens is not such a good idea. It's time for ME to diversify my funds.
In other news, the boundary between friend and more than friends was blurred the other day as the vulnerable Soleil's 'knight in shining armour' best male friend comforted her on a cold, lonely night. God, it was weird. And I knew it would be. It was just..... wrong. Because kissing a friend- just feels..... WRONG. Angelina/Billy Bob wrong. I can't articulate how wrong. The kiss- it wasn't a fish kiss like the last friend who went there..... But devoid of chemistry it was just not what I was looking for. And I wonder- do guys feel that way when they kiss a chick who is too into them? Or.... do they feel the same ALL the time? And..... the fish-kisser..... He soon wandered into obscurity after having enough of the prize he was after. Will this guy follow suit? *sigh*
Women are in general more emotional beings. Women have male friends they DON'T want to bang. And..... I like to think that I have male friends who DO NOT want to bang me. BUT...... the majority of men I ask on this issue disagree. Men want to bang their friends and will, like the praying mantis and certain types of spiders, die trying. It's in times like these that I am glad, but a little confused with the idea of being a woman. I, personally like being able to differentiate my friends from my lovers rather than confuse my brain's feelings of love for my "other brain's" feelings of love. On this matter, none of my ex-boyfriends are my friends and..... While once upon a time this caused me angst, I can understand from the point of view of the stranger sex why friendships just don't work from their side. I also refer to Awkward Boy who, earlier in the year spouted a whole heap of bullshit on horoscopes in an attempt to get me out of his house that morning and then called with 'HIS' decision of 'let's be friends'. Weirdo.
And do you know what? I TRIED to be friends with him. Because I didn't want to sleep with his stoned ass ever again but considered him nice enough to hang out with. And...... He ignored my texts.... phone calls..... and...... 7 months on...... unfriended me from a popular social networking site. WTF?!?!?
And, finally, the rest of the news. I replied to an email from a guy with a tattoo that said 'Carpe Diem'. I like the motto. Seize the day. Dead Poet's Society. I LOVE THAT MOVIE! And.... As for the motto itself... It's important. I'm all for it. And I told him that. And then........
Waiting for reply....
Waiting....
Wai.... Oh
*You've got mail!*
Reply reads: 'Well you were a waste of money, weren't you?'
What the?! Guys. What is wrong with you? I REPLIED! Some of my family and friends tell me jokingly that I should contemplate changing teams. But.... After careful deliberation it will not happen for any less than a mute Scarlett Johansson. Why mute? Have you heard her sing? Anyway, it looks like this girl is on an impossible man hunt and needs to look beyond Suit. *sigh*
The eleventh hour
Hi,
It's the quitter again. But I can't even do that right. The heavens opened and I was delivered a Friday lunch date at the regular date place. And...... I'm excited.
Now, my big brother once gave me some dating rules that I was to abide by 'for my own good'.
1) No rangas. Oops! That was April.
2) No 'filthy kiwis'. Umm...... Speed dating night last year..... Soz bro
3) No real estate agents. Well.... It's not Friday yet. Not too late to back out I suppose....
Enter Suit. So called because he wears one. *drool*
Suit is 27. He is successful real estate agent. He's also a workaholic (that's fine- it's the opposite of clingy and it's what I wanted). Loves travel. GREAT musical taste. Funny. Appears cute (We'll see- his eyes aren't boring brown and he styles his hair). Athletic- he surfs! WIN! Can spell correctly. His email showed that he actually knew what the word e-f-f-o-r-t meant and could apply it to make a girl interested. He did not cheapen me and tell me I was a 'hot mama'.
Suit also texted straight away after I replied to his FANTASTIC email. He is excited that TOOL are coming to play gigs in January 2011 and was listening to the same cd as me! Did I mention GREAT musical taste! Just saying!
Stop. I'll only stuff this up. I always do. But you know what? If he's cute and I want date number two, I'm just gunna kiss him. Then he'll stay. Because kissing's what I do best. Sorry bro, your little sister doesn't care for rules anymore. Bring it. Eternal bachelorettehood.....If this guy has metal legs, a two-pronged tongue and the personality of a plank of wood, I'll be seeing you again soon!
It's the quitter again. But I can't even do that right. The heavens opened and I was delivered a Friday lunch date at the regular date place. And...... I'm excited.
Now, my big brother once gave me some dating rules that I was to abide by 'for my own good'.
1) No rangas. Oops! That was April.
2) No 'filthy kiwis'. Umm...... Speed dating night last year..... Soz bro
3) No real estate agents. Well.... It's not Friday yet. Not too late to back out I suppose....
Enter Suit. So called because he wears one. *drool*
Suit is 27. He is successful real estate agent. He's also a workaholic (that's fine- it's the opposite of clingy and it's what I wanted). Loves travel. GREAT musical taste. Funny. Appears cute (We'll see- his eyes aren't boring brown and he styles his hair). Athletic- he surfs! WIN! Can spell correctly. His email showed that he actually knew what the word e-f-f-o-r-t meant and could apply it to make a girl interested. He did not cheapen me and tell me I was a 'hot mama'.
Suit also texted straight away after I replied to his FANTASTIC email. He is excited that TOOL are coming to play gigs in January 2011 and was listening to the same cd as me! Did I mention GREAT musical taste! Just saying!
Stop. I'll only stuff this up. I always do. But you know what? If he's cute and I want date number two, I'm just gunna kiss him. Then he'll stay. Because kissing's what I do best. Sorry bro, your little sister doesn't care for rules anymore. Bring it. Eternal bachelorettehood.....If this guy has metal legs, a two-pronged tongue and the personality of a plank of wood, I'll be seeing you again soon!
I surrender!
I've been doing a lot of thinking. About previous boyfriends and their beautiful blue eyes. About being treated like a princess. About the nice dinners and the expensive presents and the weekends away....About how I have truly been in love and this apparently makes me 'lucky'. So.... a blind person who once could see is 'luckier' than one that has been blind his or her whole life?
Anyway, I haven't had any action for a while and I am really thinking about throwing the towel in in preference to the eternal bachelorette. It's not that there is no interest from 'naughtypal' and 'rongman' and all the other eligible men in their late 30s and early 40s that peruse the net for casual sex because apparently that is how relationships start nowadays... It's just that I'm my own worst enemy in the dating scene. I sabotage my dates. I appear way too arrogant and I don't even give them a chance. I'm not even excited to go on dates anymore. And the next step.... boyfriend-ness.... It's effort, it means I have to give things up....
Because love scares me. Love also scares assholes. It's common ground I suppose. Because feeling that you would die for an insignificant other is just insane. I don't want that again, but I do want it at the same time because it was blissful happiness and drugs running around mad in my brain. I can't get my head around it. I don't understand how I could have let it happen to me before. Stupid girl. I mean the other stuff I mentioned at the start are all very nice things, but so too is the single life. No compromises. No sacrifices. Financial problems are your own stupid fault. It's not insane. Just.... peachy.
The problem is this bind....I've been standing on the edge of this cliff for too long. 18 months in fact. And I need to jump off. My statistics blog entry is clearly wrong. It said Prince Charming would have come and swept me away in August. And it's September. And no one has kissed me this WHOLE MONTH! So, it must be over then. I don't know what I want. Love frightens me. You've read this far- I throw most boys away before they've even bought me dinner. Alternatively, if I find someone I like, I have stuffed it up in the past anyway by being too keen. So I've stopped showing an interest in them at all. Sometimes I'm interested.... But I don't think either side can tell if I like them or not. I don't want to tell them, that would be disastrous and I would come off as too eager.
So.... I send signals. This seems to backfire too. When it's reciprocated I run away scared or laugh because I was 'just testing'. What else can I do? Those I like..... They run.... Maybe they were 'just testing' too. Karma I suppose. They run just like I do from those that like me. I just can't win this one.
It's time to jump off. To admit. I am Soleil. And I am going to be single forever.
5....4....3....2....
Anyway, I haven't had any action for a while and I am really thinking about throwing the towel in in preference to the eternal bachelorette. It's not that there is no interest from 'naughtypal' and 'rongman' and all the other eligible men in their late 30s and early 40s that peruse the net for casual sex because apparently that is how relationships start nowadays... It's just that I'm my own worst enemy in the dating scene. I sabotage my dates. I appear way too arrogant and I don't even give them a chance. I'm not even excited to go on dates anymore. And the next step.... boyfriend-ness.... It's effort, it means I have to give things up....
Because love scares me. Love also scares assholes. It's common ground I suppose. Because feeling that you would die for an insignificant other is just insane. I don't want that again, but I do want it at the same time because it was blissful happiness and drugs running around mad in my brain. I can't get my head around it. I don't understand how I could have let it happen to me before. Stupid girl. I mean the other stuff I mentioned at the start are all very nice things, but so too is the single life. No compromises. No sacrifices. Financial problems are your own stupid fault. It's not insane. Just.... peachy.
The problem is this bind....I've been standing on the edge of this cliff for too long. 18 months in fact. And I need to jump off. My statistics blog entry is clearly wrong. It said Prince Charming would have come and swept me away in August. And it's September. And no one has kissed me this WHOLE MONTH! So, it must be over then. I don't know what I want. Love frightens me. You've read this far- I throw most boys away before they've even bought me dinner. Alternatively, if I find someone I like, I have stuffed it up in the past anyway by being too keen. So I've stopped showing an interest in them at all. Sometimes I'm interested.... But I don't think either side can tell if I like them or not. I don't want to tell them, that would be disastrous and I would come off as too eager.
So.... I send signals. This seems to backfire too. When it's reciprocated I run away scared or laugh because I was 'just testing'. What else can I do? Those I like..... They run.... Maybe they were 'just testing' too. Karma I suppose. They run just like I do from those that like me. I just can't win this one.
It's time to jump off. To admit. I am Soleil. And I am going to be single forever.
5....4....3....2....
Single's Big Brother?
Ok, so I haven't had any dates. I've been too busy to date. I've been so busy that all I really want to do is slide into a self-induced coma for a week. And it's not happening. BUT.....
Firstly, the potential. We'll call him 'Matty'. He could be Mr September. If I WANT a Mr September.... But.... what does this guy want? Seriously. His emails are two words. His first email said 'You are one hot mama'. What am I, 40? THEN he leaves his number and a two word 'Call me'. Who are you? And why? Effort and men..... I think I like to be a little spoilt. I like THEM to make the effort. It's the done thing. I can't be the hunter. So...... maybe.... unless there is a comment to the contrary.... I will ignore the opportunity.
And... on missed opportunities....Speed dating organisation..... Thanks for the email. Single's Big Brother sounds kinda fun.... But it kills me to say no. It's not because my mother won't support it. It's my stupid career. And then there are the fanciful delusions of grandeur. Of people LOVING my blog. Of people actually KNOWING about my blog. And the possibilities of a gig in the media spotlight. I've always wanted that. My only talent is my quirkiness, but sometimes that is enough.
So, delving into the Single's Big Brother... The clauses in the waivers are kinda scary (about making stuff up about me) and..... my career could be compromised if I do this. I really do love my job. And it's a risk that probably won't even pay off.... The application is filled in.... But it won't get sent off. Just like the 'drunken' out there messages that were in my inbox, addressed to my former crush that were deleted and never sent. I'm making a decision. I don't necessarily like the decision, but it's a choice nonetheless. Now my ex-boyfriend's words ring in my ears 'TAKE RISKS' and I wonder- am I choosing for myself or for others???? I'm a yes person. I have intent. I also have courage. But, atop the list there is intellect. I am deciding that while my former crush would have appreciated the messages, for a girl with any kind of attraction, nothing good can come of a flirtatious player that hasn't had a relationship in 6 years. And, *sigh* nothing good can come of the teenagers I work with seeing me interact with (and shut down) members of the opposite sex on a television. *sigh* The love of my life. He COULD be in that house. Unlikely, yes. But...... possible?!?!?!????!!
Firstly, the potential. We'll call him 'Matty'. He could be Mr September. If I WANT a Mr September.... But.... what does this guy want? Seriously. His emails are two words. His first email said 'You are one hot mama'. What am I, 40? THEN he leaves his number and a two word 'Call me'. Who are you? And why? Effort and men..... I think I like to be a little spoilt. I like THEM to make the effort. It's the done thing. I can't be the hunter. So...... maybe.... unless there is a comment to the contrary.... I will ignore the opportunity.
And... on missed opportunities....Speed dating organisation..... Thanks for the email. Single's Big Brother sounds kinda fun.... But it kills me to say no. It's not because my mother won't support it. It's my stupid career. And then there are the fanciful delusions of grandeur. Of people LOVING my blog. Of people actually KNOWING about my blog. And the possibilities of a gig in the media spotlight. I've always wanted that. My only talent is my quirkiness, but sometimes that is enough.
So, delving into the Single's Big Brother... The clauses in the waivers are kinda scary (about making stuff up about me) and..... my career could be compromised if I do this. I really do love my job. And it's a risk that probably won't even pay off.... The application is filled in.... But it won't get sent off. Just like the 'drunken' out there messages that were in my inbox, addressed to my former crush that were deleted and never sent. I'm making a decision. I don't necessarily like the decision, but it's a choice nonetheless. Now my ex-boyfriend's words ring in my ears 'TAKE RISKS' and I wonder- am I choosing for myself or for others???? I'm a yes person. I have intent. I also have courage. But, atop the list there is intellect. I am deciding that while my former crush would have appreciated the messages, for a girl with any kind of attraction, nothing good can come of a flirtatious player that hasn't had a relationship in 6 years. And, *sigh* nothing good can come of the teenagers I work with seeing me interact with (and shut down) members of the opposite sex on a television. *sigh* The love of my life. He COULD be in that house. Unlikely, yes. But...... possible?!?!?!????!!
All has been quiet on the Western Front. Yet another friend of mine wants to date me and another- with a girlfriend, has told me in no uncertain terms that he would go there. And he meant it. And I have said to other people in the same situation that surely this acts as some sort of ego-boost.... But.... It doesn't really....
So, there is no shortage of interest, but those in my 'go there' category are seriously depleted. Shacked up, uninterested or DISinterested- men with an initial interest in me that have now seen how good I am at Guitar Hero, that I can put 'superfluous' in a sentence, that I have been kicked out of a pub on more than one occasion, that I bruise rather than stroke egos.... the list continues. They are turned off- and... I guess I understand.
OMG! The guy from Valentine's Day's status 'I don't believe in karma but I believe in the karma sutra'- ARE YOU FOR REAL?
Enter new internet dating candidate. I think he may have tripped up the stairs. 'You are one hot mama' he writes. Er.... I'm not 40.... But a statement like this makes me feel like it. Anyway, obviously my replies haven't been hitting the mark--- No reply. And I'm not so hopeful for one either. And.... It may be the beginning of the end for Soleil. You see, the last time I was feeling like all my options were gone, I entered into a four year relationship with a 'last resort'. I DON'T want to do this. Mind you, many facets of that union WERE good, and in hindsight I should not have been so quick to judge him as a 'last resort', but he was the total opposite to what I wanted and... it was the relationship's beginnings that I couldn't get over.
So.... Yngve, my rich, Swedish model who was made to sweep me off my feet and take me on lavish holidays, hurry up and find me. I'm in crisis. I can't take this anymore. If you know Yngve, let me know. It would make my day to meet him.
So, there is no shortage of interest, but those in my 'go there' category are seriously depleted. Shacked up, uninterested or DISinterested- men with an initial interest in me that have now seen how good I am at Guitar Hero, that I can put 'superfluous' in a sentence, that I have been kicked out of a pub on more than one occasion, that I bruise rather than stroke egos.... the list continues. They are turned off- and... I guess I understand.
OMG! The guy from Valentine's Day's status 'I don't believe in karma but I believe in the karma sutra'- ARE YOU FOR REAL?
Enter new internet dating candidate. I think he may have tripped up the stairs. 'You are one hot mama' he writes. Er.... I'm not 40.... But a statement like this makes me feel like it. Anyway, obviously my replies haven't been hitting the mark--- No reply. And I'm not so hopeful for one either. And.... It may be the beginning of the end for Soleil. You see, the last time I was feeling like all my options were gone, I entered into a four year relationship with a 'last resort'. I DON'T want to do this. Mind you, many facets of that union WERE good, and in hindsight I should not have been so quick to judge him as a 'last resort', but he was the total opposite to what I wanted and... it was the relationship's beginnings that I couldn't get over.
So.... Yngve, my rich, Swedish model who was made to sweep me off my feet and take me on lavish holidays, hurry up and find me. I'm in crisis. I can't take this anymore. If you know Yngve, let me know. It would make my day to meet him.
How to pick up in 5 minutes.
Amazing! Or so my friends were saying... 'How do you do it'? And it's true. We were at a club and I picked up in 5 minutes. Sometimes it just happens that way with me.
My advice. Dye your hair blonde- (we have more fun anyways) wear a low cut top and don't aim to pick up. It's the third one that is the hardest of them all. But seriously, I go out with my friends for my friends. Not for guys. And I think this is the key. 5 minutes and BANG! I'm being praised as a phenomenal kisser- AGAIN!
Let's call him Paul- after his favourite Geelong football player, Chappy. He was SOOOO excited that I was a Geelong supporter. I haven't had that since Trevor. And that was 10 years ago! Wow! A flashback to the guy who broke my heart. This time last decade was totally AWESOME! Anyway, Paul looked a little like Trevor too..... But I don't care. He was tall. And I think I liked him- just a little bit. He was strong and manly, yet dressed alright and seemed to have a brain.
The problem is that I could see right through him. There wasn't very much talking going on there. A lot of kissing, yes. But nothing of substance. He just wanted to get laid. And I just can't do that. Sometimes I really wish I could. Sometimes there is tension that I just carry around, sometimes for months and months, and I wish I could just let it out and go nuts. But..... I just can't do it. There is a process. Guys need to get to know me first. Ask questions, let me get a feel for them and eventually, if I still like them after the question exchange....
It is my shallow nature to equate looks and a nice kiss to another date. If I was going on list criteria, this guy does not make the cut- and reminds me a little of Hugh Grant's character in Bridget Jones' Diary. And I would be doing a Bridget Jones in letting him take me out for dinner. I don't know if this awareness is enough to stop me if the opportunity arises and I don't know whether this Paul guy, who calls me 'babe' (eek) and has a TERRIBLE taste in music, has my number for the ego boost of another female entry in his iPhone, with no intention of calling (as many do), OR whether it's under a category of girls entitled 'booty call', OR if he actually wants to take me out on a date. Actually, I lie. I know what he wants. And it's number 2. *sigh*
The thing about Paul, the marketer from Templestowe, was that there was inconsideration there. He chatted to the DJ rather than chatting to me. He left me waiting while he went to check up on his lonely man friend. And when he wasn't absorbed in those things, he just wanted nookie. A couple of drinks is the same as a bucket of chicken. I have declared on this blog that I can't be bought for that! I need to be spoken to! It's not actually that hard, but I don't know what has happened to romance. Because there seems to be a pattern here. This seems to be the way of picking up these days. Maybe it always was.... I don't know. But I seem to remember gentlemen. Alternatively, I could be being overly critical here. These guys might be hypnotised by my cleavage- and I wouldn't blame them. Upon walking back to my car, I witnessed several males ogling. Some stopped walking to stare (and salivate). Others yelled out 'HE..llo...'. Males. Your subtlety astounds me! ;-)
And while there are no surprises that I LOVE bad boys..... I'm too much of a goody two-shoes and ALWAYS leave them hanging for too long- and they wander into the ether with all the other guys I have rejected. An impossible prissy girl? Or a woman with a legitimate defense mechanism? I feel like both- it just depends on the situation and the guy in question. And with Paul, it's a legitimate defense mechanism. On the positive side, I MIGHT get a free meal out of it????
My advice. Dye your hair blonde- (we have more fun anyways) wear a low cut top and don't aim to pick up. It's the third one that is the hardest of them all. But seriously, I go out with my friends for my friends. Not for guys. And I think this is the key. 5 minutes and BANG! I'm being praised as a phenomenal kisser- AGAIN!
Let's call him Paul- after his favourite Geelong football player, Chappy. He was SOOOO excited that I was a Geelong supporter. I haven't had that since Trevor. And that was 10 years ago! Wow! A flashback to the guy who broke my heart. This time last decade was totally AWESOME! Anyway, Paul looked a little like Trevor too..... But I don't care. He was tall. And I think I liked him- just a little bit. He was strong and manly, yet dressed alright and seemed to have a brain.
The problem is that I could see right through him. There wasn't very much talking going on there. A lot of kissing, yes. But nothing of substance. He just wanted to get laid. And I just can't do that. Sometimes I really wish I could. Sometimes there is tension that I just carry around, sometimes for months and months, and I wish I could just let it out and go nuts. But..... I just can't do it. There is a process. Guys need to get to know me first. Ask questions, let me get a feel for them and eventually, if I still like them after the question exchange....
It is my shallow nature to equate looks and a nice kiss to another date. If I was going on list criteria, this guy does not make the cut- and reminds me a little of Hugh Grant's character in Bridget Jones' Diary. And I would be doing a Bridget Jones in letting him take me out for dinner. I don't know if this awareness is enough to stop me if the opportunity arises and I don't know whether this Paul guy, who calls me 'babe' (eek) and has a TERRIBLE taste in music, has my number for the ego boost of another female entry in his iPhone, with no intention of calling (as many do), OR whether it's under a category of girls entitled 'booty call', OR if he actually wants to take me out on a date. Actually, I lie. I know what he wants. And it's number 2. *sigh*
The thing about Paul, the marketer from Templestowe, was that there was inconsideration there. He chatted to the DJ rather than chatting to me. He left me waiting while he went to check up on his lonely man friend. And when he wasn't absorbed in those things, he just wanted nookie. A couple of drinks is the same as a bucket of chicken. I have declared on this blog that I can't be bought for that! I need to be spoken to! It's not actually that hard, but I don't know what has happened to romance. Because there seems to be a pattern here. This seems to be the way of picking up these days. Maybe it always was.... I don't know. But I seem to remember gentlemen. Alternatively, I could be being overly critical here. These guys might be hypnotised by my cleavage- and I wouldn't blame them. Upon walking back to my car, I witnessed several males ogling. Some stopped walking to stare (and salivate). Others yelled out 'HE..llo...'. Males. Your subtlety astounds me! ;-)
And while there are no surprises that I LOVE bad boys..... I'm too much of a goody two-shoes and ALWAYS leave them hanging for too long- and they wander into the ether with all the other guys I have rejected. An impossible prissy girl? Or a woman with a legitimate defense mechanism? I feel like both- it just depends on the situation and the guy in question. And with Paul, it's a legitimate defense mechanism. On the positive side, I MIGHT get a free meal out of it????
It’s time. Actually, it’s overdue. Time to review my list. A lot like the old list, with only a few alterations.
THE PERFECT MAN FOR ME IS/HAS:
Cute- inside and out
•A Gentleman. Confident when talking to girls- but not so confident that I will think he has a Monday, Wednesday and Friday girlfriend and not openly crude about others. I don’t want to be slagged off after I dump your ass.
•Chilled out, open to new ideas. Doesn't freak out at the drop of a hat. Tries to get me to see the lighter side if I ever start to panic. “OK, so we have three minutes until the world ends. Let’s use it wisely!” ;-)
•Good looking. I like boyish faces and skinniness. Guys that own at least one designer label in their wardrobes. And no, I don’t care if an ex-girlfriend bought this for them. She taught my boyfriend that thing I like? I don't care, he's mine now, bi-atch!
•Is himself. The fact that I find him tolerable is enough here. This means that he is honest and doesn’t spin shit to sound more impressive than he actually is. This is one of the reasons I worry about short guys. They are like little yappy dogs. Shorties, look in the mirror and accept yourself for what you are. Chihuahuas. Hey, plenty of girls love them. Look at Paris Hilton. If you want your trophy wife, go for it. But I'm no trophy and you're no German Shepherd!
•Thinks I’m a good sort. I’m nobody’s pity date! I'm not a 'she'll do for now'. If I am, he's after a trophy. That's not cool.
•Appreciation: shows me that he cares every now and again. Nothing over the top- I would be SO turned off by a suck, but initiative. I LOVE initiative. GUYS: It’s not that I have an expectation- but do stuff without me having to ask and not expecting thanks and I WILL jump you.
•Cares for my safety and well-being. Will go and check strange noises outside or offer a plausible explanation and comforting arms so that I feel safe at night. I understand this is easier said than done.
What will actually happen:
Guy: “What’s that! I heard a noise!”
Soleil: “You wuss! I’ll go and check it ou- Aww.... It was just the dog farting!”
•Is motivating. A neater person would inspire me to be neater. A healthier person would inspire me to be healthy. A good role model. Motivating might simply mean walks the dog with me every day. This doesn’t mean this guy is not lazy- he probably is.... But he prioritises his health and reputation is all....
•Creative and a little random. Appreciates my quirks.
Smart
•Good with his hands, capable of doing handyman work. If not capable, can and WILL call someone who is. Passing it off as his own work is fine- how am I gonna know? I don't care, as long as it gets done!
•Intelligent- capable of a philosophical (sometimes about ridiculous shit) conversation. Example discussion: Gaudi’s cathedral is incomplete, but unfinished. Sometimes there is more mystery in things that are left unfinis----
• Accepts certain undeniable facts. For instance, that I am the ONLY person who can get Lenny (my dog) to do ANYTHING!
Fun
• Confident and independent. NOT clingy. If he can hold his ground when I leave him stranded at an engagement party where he has never met anyone before, PERFECT! I am no good at introductions.
• Funny- dark, sophisticated humour...
• Accepts me for me and actually wants to share in my adventures rather than staying in front of the TV his whole life. Doesn’t look at me silly if I want to go to the drive-in, sing karaoke in Japanese, even if we have never actually heard the songs before or want to help Tuvalu by booking a ridiculously expensive trip to one of the world’s sinking countries- even if there is actually nothing to see there.
• Likes music/ to go to DECENT concerts. Never liked Milli Vanilli and believes Lady GaGa is over-rated (Because she is). Would support me if I decided to leave a venue due to its shitty music. Some disagreements are fine, but for the most part, there aren’t many disagreements on movies watched and CDs/MP4s played.
The criteria I am ditching:
• Has a clue what to do with money.
I am ditching this one because:
If he lets ME manage the money, everything will be fine. No Paul Robinsons allowed. Give ME the bank details!
• Likes family and friends
I am ditching this one because:
People sometimes clash. He just has to accept that I am happy with my favourite people and I will need to spend time with them (not to mention my other hobbies) over him- often leaving him to his own devices. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. The most affectionate words I may ever utter are “Piss off and get your own life!” Actually, if I have to say these words- he’s a goner!
THE PERFECT MAN FOR ME IS/HAS:
Cute- inside and out
•A Gentleman. Confident when talking to girls- but not so confident that I will think he has a Monday, Wednesday and Friday girlfriend and not openly crude about others. I don’t want to be slagged off after I dump your ass.
•Chilled out, open to new ideas. Doesn't freak out at the drop of a hat. Tries to get me to see the lighter side if I ever start to panic. “OK, so we have three minutes until the world ends. Let’s use it wisely!” ;-)
•Good looking. I like boyish faces and skinniness. Guys that own at least one designer label in their wardrobes. And no, I don’t care if an ex-girlfriend bought this for them. She taught my boyfriend that thing I like? I don't care, he's mine now, bi-atch!
•Is himself. The fact that I find him tolerable is enough here. This means that he is honest and doesn’t spin shit to sound more impressive than he actually is. This is one of the reasons I worry about short guys. They are like little yappy dogs. Shorties, look in the mirror and accept yourself for what you are. Chihuahuas. Hey, plenty of girls love them. Look at Paris Hilton. If you want your trophy wife, go for it. But I'm no trophy and you're no German Shepherd!
•Thinks I’m a good sort. I’m nobody’s pity date! I'm not a 'she'll do for now'. If I am, he's after a trophy. That's not cool.
•Appreciation: shows me that he cares every now and again. Nothing over the top- I would be SO turned off by a suck, but initiative. I LOVE initiative. GUYS: It’s not that I have an expectation- but do stuff without me having to ask and not expecting thanks and I WILL jump you.
•Cares for my safety and well-being. Will go and check strange noises outside or offer a plausible explanation and comforting arms so that I feel safe at night. I understand this is easier said than done.
What will actually happen:
Guy: “What’s that! I heard a noise!”
Soleil: “You wuss! I’ll go and check it ou- Aww.... It was just the dog farting!”
•Is motivating. A neater person would inspire me to be neater. A healthier person would inspire me to be healthy. A good role model. Motivating might simply mean walks the dog with me every day. This doesn’t mean this guy is not lazy- he probably is.... But he prioritises his health and reputation is all....
•Creative and a little random. Appreciates my quirks.
Smart
•Good with his hands, capable of doing handyman work. If not capable, can and WILL call someone who is. Passing it off as his own work is fine- how am I gonna know? I don't care, as long as it gets done!
•Intelligent- capable of a philosophical (sometimes about ridiculous shit) conversation. Example discussion: Gaudi’s cathedral is incomplete, but unfinished. Sometimes there is more mystery in things that are left unfinis----
• Accepts certain undeniable facts. For instance, that I am the ONLY person who can get Lenny (my dog) to do ANYTHING!
Fun
• Confident and independent. NOT clingy. If he can hold his ground when I leave him stranded at an engagement party where he has never met anyone before, PERFECT! I am no good at introductions.
• Funny- dark, sophisticated humour...
• Accepts me for me and actually wants to share in my adventures rather than staying in front of the TV his whole life. Doesn’t look at me silly if I want to go to the drive-in, sing karaoke in Japanese, even if we have never actually heard the songs before or want to help Tuvalu by booking a ridiculously expensive trip to one of the world’s sinking countries- even if there is actually nothing to see there.
• Likes music/ to go to DECENT concerts. Never liked Milli Vanilli and believes Lady GaGa is over-rated (Because she is). Would support me if I decided to leave a venue due to its shitty music. Some disagreements are fine, but for the most part, there aren’t many disagreements on movies watched and CDs/MP4s played.
The criteria I am ditching:
• Has a clue what to do with money.
I am ditching this one because:
If he lets ME manage the money, everything will be fine. No Paul Robinsons allowed. Give ME the bank details!
• Likes family and friends
I am ditching this one because:
People sometimes clash. He just has to accept that I am happy with my favourite people and I will need to spend time with them (not to mention my other hobbies) over him- often leaving him to his own devices. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. The most affectionate words I may ever utter are “Piss off and get your own life!” Actually, if I have to say these words- he’s a goner!
Tsuffering tsuccotash!
I had an epiphany. Mind you, it is probably as correct as my interpretation of Inception- which is.... FAIL! Soleil, you have NO idea what you are talking about but this one's worth a shot:
The flawless guy is boring. I have decided that I actually like flaws, or let me elaborate, I hate MOST, but some of them I actually find endearing. Take the crooked smile, for example. It's cute. I actually LOVE the crooked smile. The cooking failure,the messy slob, the bad shower singer, the daggy dancer, the guy that owns a guitar but doesn't know how to play it without sounding as melodic as a cat fight, the guy who drinks vodka and cranberry over beer or bourban. All of these things are okay with me. And it may surprise you to know, there are MANY other 'flaws' that I could happily put in this category. Even contentious ones that other girls just could not tolerate. My list does not exclude smokers, I have continued to date problem gamblers and even alcoholics well after their flaws have been uncovered. Bad boys.... You make me go weak at the knees! So, where I am judged for being too judgmental, I am grateful for my ability to unpack the flaws of my suitors. It saves me time. It saves them money. And now..... I proceed to do so with my latest venture, Lawyer from Brighton.
My friend was over to help me get ready for the date. Now, first date jitters don't seem to exist anymore when you are a dating veteran. Especially when while showing my friend Lawyer from Brighton's photograph, she conceded that he was fat and she would not date him. But I was committed to the cause, I thought it might have been muscle and was keen to find out. So, off I went to a little Italian restaurant in Bay Street.
He looked much older than the guys I date. And this is because he was. He was as old as my siblings- there is an 8 year gap there. In fact, he may have even been older... but not by much. The menu was limiting- but he tried to say that it was good. When I ordered water, the waiter opened a bottle of Mount Franklin without asking. We live in Melbourne. What is wrong with tap water? Doesn't he know it's better for your teeth? Anyway, after a massive, garlic infused pizza AND pasta (I had swum a kilometre the night beforehand and I was sooooo hungry as a result) I felt comfortable enough that he wasn't going to kiss me and we could just concentrate on having a little fun.
He was nervous. I could tell because he appeared a little intimidated. I retreat into my shell in the same way around co-workers and people in authority. It sucks. It's a flaw. But I have the same flaw, hence, it cannot be criticised too harshly.
He had a lisp. Hence the title of this blog. I was debating on whether or not to rename him Sylvester. It would be quicker to type, that's for sure. Ever watched 'Mad Men'? Sally has a lisp. She's a cute kid, but that lisp tends to annoy me. Having said that, I wonder if after being bombarded with that annoyance, like a diabetic having to take insulin injections everyday, would it become more tolerable? And there we have it- a multi-faceted 'epiphanic' view of flaws. But it's yet to be tested. Or is it? When I treated my last relationship as an arranged marriage and HIS flaws as annoyance bombardment, it failed. So, maybe I should just stick to my guns. Maybe I am becoming too worn down by other people's criticisms of my pickiness. Maybe I should just go out and say it. It's over. Sylvester and Tweety. We all know who wears the pants in THAT relationship.
In my arrogance, I asked him about the rating scale of women. 1-10. And he rated me. This was a test to see how much of a bullshit artist he really was. After all, he's a lawyer. Bullshitting is often a prerequisite- especially for a rich one. He stated that in the cute, smart and funny stakes, funny (which also includes personality) was the most important, with cute being the least important. My lowest rating from him was in intelligence and my highest in cute.... HE GOT IT BACK TO FRONT! Mind you, he was coaxed by a girl into a lose-lose situation, and if he was the irresistible kind of bad boy I tend to fall for, he should have stayed tight lipped, BUT HE DIDN'T!
My egocentric ratings of myself:
Cute 6
Funny 7
Smart 8
Guitar Hero 9
Piano playing 5
Wealth and Affluence 7
Hospitality to guests 6
His embellished 'I want to get into your pants' ratings of yours truly:
Smart 8
Funny 8.5
Cute 9
Guitar hero -
Wealth and Affluence -
Hospitality to guests -
My ratings of HIM:
Smart 7
Funny 6
Cute 5
Guitar Hero 6
Piano playing 1 (Why does he have a keyboard if he can't even play it? Yes, I know I said I don't mind this in second paragraph. MY BAD!)
Wealth and Affluence 9 (SUCH a beautiful car! SUCH a massive TV! A well decked out apartment in Brighton too! But..... stingy in Guitar Hero [I told him to buy the expensive guitar and he complained- I fear the worst here]
Hospitality to guests 6 (He was affluent, but NO coffee machine. I DON'T want Nescafe blend 43, the chocolate in the pantry was old and white in colour (throw it out, DUDE!) and why did HE get to start off on Guitar Hero?)
OK. If I were to go to a clairvoyant, they would say:
"Soleil, when you hit 34, don't expect him to pay for your botox. He can't even spend fake money on Guitar Hero. He will let himself go and is only going to a personal trainer on the premise that he needs to look half decent for a girl and lose the overhang. You love bacon too much to convert to Judaism..... but the fact that he owns your dream car and that you KNOW you have him twisted around your little finger, could make this fun for you for about one month."
Clairvoyant. What a waste of money. I know myself enough to know this is true. Now I'm salivating over that car. As Homer Simpson says while salivating, "Ughghghghghghghgh!"
The flawless guy is boring. I have decided that I actually like flaws, or let me elaborate, I hate MOST, but some of them I actually find endearing. Take the crooked smile, for example. It's cute. I actually LOVE the crooked smile. The cooking failure,the messy slob, the bad shower singer, the daggy dancer, the guy that owns a guitar but doesn't know how to play it without sounding as melodic as a cat fight, the guy who drinks vodka and cranberry over beer or bourban. All of these things are okay with me. And it may surprise you to know, there are MANY other 'flaws' that I could happily put in this category. Even contentious ones that other girls just could not tolerate. My list does not exclude smokers, I have continued to date problem gamblers and even alcoholics well after their flaws have been uncovered. Bad boys.... You make me go weak at the knees! So, where I am judged for being too judgmental, I am grateful for my ability to unpack the flaws of my suitors. It saves me time. It saves them money. And now..... I proceed to do so with my latest venture, Lawyer from Brighton.
My friend was over to help me get ready for the date. Now, first date jitters don't seem to exist anymore when you are a dating veteran. Especially when while showing my friend Lawyer from Brighton's photograph, she conceded that he was fat and she would not date him. But I was committed to the cause, I thought it might have been muscle and was keen to find out. So, off I went to a little Italian restaurant in Bay Street.
He looked much older than the guys I date. And this is because he was. He was as old as my siblings- there is an 8 year gap there. In fact, he may have even been older... but not by much. The menu was limiting- but he tried to say that it was good. When I ordered water, the waiter opened a bottle of Mount Franklin without asking. We live in Melbourne. What is wrong with tap water? Doesn't he know it's better for your teeth? Anyway, after a massive, garlic infused pizza AND pasta (I had swum a kilometre the night beforehand and I was sooooo hungry as a result) I felt comfortable enough that he wasn't going to kiss me and we could just concentrate on having a little fun.
He was nervous. I could tell because he appeared a little intimidated. I retreat into my shell in the same way around co-workers and people in authority. It sucks. It's a flaw. But I have the same flaw, hence, it cannot be criticised too harshly.
He had a lisp. Hence the title of this blog. I was debating on whether or not to rename him Sylvester. It would be quicker to type, that's for sure. Ever watched 'Mad Men'? Sally has a lisp. She's a cute kid, but that lisp tends to annoy me. Having said that, I wonder if after being bombarded with that annoyance, like a diabetic having to take insulin injections everyday, would it become more tolerable? And there we have it- a multi-faceted 'epiphanic' view of flaws. But it's yet to be tested. Or is it? When I treated my last relationship as an arranged marriage and HIS flaws as annoyance bombardment, it failed. So, maybe I should just stick to my guns. Maybe I am becoming too worn down by other people's criticisms of my pickiness. Maybe I should just go out and say it. It's over. Sylvester and Tweety. We all know who wears the pants in THAT relationship.
In my arrogance, I asked him about the rating scale of women. 1-10. And he rated me. This was a test to see how much of a bullshit artist he really was. After all, he's a lawyer. Bullshitting is often a prerequisite- especially for a rich one. He stated that in the cute, smart and funny stakes, funny (which also includes personality) was the most important, with cute being the least important. My lowest rating from him was in intelligence and my highest in cute.... HE GOT IT BACK TO FRONT! Mind you, he was coaxed by a girl into a lose-lose situation, and if he was the irresistible kind of bad boy I tend to fall for, he should have stayed tight lipped, BUT HE DIDN'T!
My egocentric ratings of myself:
Cute 6
Funny 7
Smart 8
Guitar Hero 9
Piano playing 5
Wealth and Affluence 7
Hospitality to guests 6
His embellished 'I want to get into your pants' ratings of yours truly:
Smart 8
Funny 8.5
Cute 9
Guitar hero -
Wealth and Affluence -
Hospitality to guests -
My ratings of HIM:
Smart 7
Funny 6
Cute 5
Guitar Hero 6
Piano playing 1 (Why does he have a keyboard if he can't even play it? Yes, I know I said I don't mind this in second paragraph. MY BAD!)
Wealth and Affluence 9 (SUCH a beautiful car! SUCH a massive TV! A well decked out apartment in Brighton too! But..... stingy in Guitar Hero [I told him to buy the expensive guitar and he complained- I fear the worst here]
Hospitality to guests 6 (He was affluent, but NO coffee machine. I DON'T want Nescafe blend 43, the chocolate in the pantry was old and white in colour (throw it out, DUDE!) and why did HE get to start off on Guitar Hero?)
OK. If I were to go to a clairvoyant, they would say:
"Soleil, when you hit 34, don't expect him to pay for your botox. He can't even spend fake money on Guitar Hero. He will let himself go and is only going to a personal trainer on the premise that he needs to look half decent for a girl and lose the overhang. You love bacon too much to convert to Judaism..... but the fact that he owns your dream car and that you KNOW you have him twisted around your little finger, could make this fun for you for about one month."
Clairvoyant. What a waste of money. I know myself enough to know this is true. Now I'm salivating over that car. As Homer Simpson says while salivating, "Ughghghghghghghgh!"
If he looks like your ex, he's only good for the free KFC.
Gig, clubs and an email from some 'hopefuls' from the dating website. Nothing out of the ordinary, but enough in there for an update of some description. Oh, and by the way, the inverted commas are to represent that these guys spent their dosh for nothing- contacting me on RSVP with their $10 emails when I would only have been interested in them after a jug of Pure Blonde.
So.....back to the events of this weekend.
After the gig, my friend and I wandered over to the pub. There we met a short Scottish guy who locked eyes at me and rather than continue walking, I thought for sure that there was a free drink in this for me. (What...... I was thirsty!!!)
Firstly, short guys. Do I only look a 7 from your view? I seriously wonder. Shorties, you love the Soleil but "she don't love you, no". My friend says it's the boobs that draw you to me. And well, I can understand that the hypnotising nature of my boobs puts you under my spell, but seriously, with shorties it is ALWAYS awkward holding your hands. And when, in a case of gender role reversal I have to put my arm over your shoulder because the other way feels strange and uncomfortable..... You need to FIND SOMEONE ELSE'S BOOBS TO LOOK AT BECAUSE I CANNOT DATE YOU!
Ex-boyfriend lookalike. You had a similar personality, similar musical inclination (a better one than him actually- kudos. That was great), you looked like him with the same eyes, skin colour etc, you had the same 'chivalrous' nature (which sometimes allows you to get trampled I have to say) AND you were Scottish. In fact, you must be his cousin. Your tone of voice was even the same. Anyway, you bought us KFC and played the touchy feely game where you rub your hand down my back.... Only you did it to my friend as well (desperate weirdo) at which point in the night you would have been a goner- only you bought us KFC and I thought I would drop both of you home as a gesture of good will.
But your chivalry was a farce. I watched you SMS over your shoulder to a Jessica and the reply ended in kisses. I dropped you home where you told me that you lived there with a significant other (Jessica) but that you were in the 'end phases' of a relationship. Whatever the fuck THAT means, Poindexter. And then..... you message me to tell me to come back to yours after I have dropped my friend off. I'm sorry, but I'm not as cheap as a bucket of chicken. Readers: Ex-boyfriend lookalikes, as the title suggests are ONLY good for free KFC.
Next we have crown, crown, crown, Crown Casino. How strange you are in the early hours of the morning when wandering around are strange men ogling at me and actually articulating BEFORE thinking (Maybe that part is NOT strange). One particular male had a jaw to the floor after uttering the word 'Cuuuuuuuuute!' at me. But you know what? There isn't enough of that. It was very nice. Thank you, Mr Bizarro. It made me feel like I was an 8.
Now, speaking of 8s......the other thing was that I wanted to comment on (and maybe explain if you are confused by these numbers) is the rating scale that men use to classify women. You know the one where a girl is assessed out of ten. Check out urban dictionary if you don't know of it...
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=1%20to%2010%20scale
The binary version is also good, and I can work on that one as well, but the rating system itself, it needed a mention. I am using it to justify my shallow and superficial tendencies ESPECIALLY for those friends of mine who are adamant that I am too picky. My selection criteria (see last year's entries 'My perfect guy')forms my rubric to assess guys out of ten in the three crucial areas: Cute, smart and funny. The existence of such a popular score card is evidence that I am NOT the only person out there who does this. Just one of a few number of self-aware females who recognises that I do it. And as I am around a 6-7 or above in cute, smart and funny, I expect my man to also be of the same standard. If they fall below the yellow line, they face elimination. They may get a chance at a 'cook-off' like ranga boy had (He was a 5 in cute and funny), but generally, for them, 'It's time to go". Because why should I settle for less than I am worth?
Now, I think this checklist is up for review. It has been over twelve months since it's last revision, in which time I have dated and met many douches that espouse the qualities that I just cannot tolerate. Stay tuned.
*End rant*
Next edition will be on the lawyer from Brighton. I have a date with him on Friday night. As for those other guys that are emailing me....... I think I will just have to pretend that you haven't because you are nice people, it's just a height thing. But who knows, if I met you at a pub, and first base was that I let you buy me KFC, then that WOULD be a step I could allow!
So.....back to the events of this weekend.
After the gig, my friend and I wandered over to the pub. There we met a short Scottish guy who locked eyes at me and rather than continue walking, I thought for sure that there was a free drink in this for me. (What...... I was thirsty!!!)
Firstly, short guys. Do I only look a 7 from your view? I seriously wonder. Shorties, you love the Soleil but "she don't love you, no". My friend says it's the boobs that draw you to me. And well, I can understand that the hypnotising nature of my boobs puts you under my spell, but seriously, with shorties it is ALWAYS awkward holding your hands. And when, in a case of gender role reversal I have to put my arm over your shoulder because the other way feels strange and uncomfortable..... You need to FIND SOMEONE ELSE'S BOOBS TO LOOK AT BECAUSE I CANNOT DATE YOU!
Ex-boyfriend lookalike. You had a similar personality, similar musical inclination (a better one than him actually- kudos. That was great), you looked like him with the same eyes, skin colour etc, you had the same 'chivalrous' nature (which sometimes allows you to get trampled I have to say) AND you were Scottish. In fact, you must be his cousin. Your tone of voice was even the same. Anyway, you bought us KFC and played the touchy feely game where you rub your hand down my back.... Only you did it to my friend as well (desperate weirdo) at which point in the night you would have been a goner- only you bought us KFC and I thought I would drop both of you home as a gesture of good will.
But your chivalry was a farce. I watched you SMS over your shoulder to a Jessica and the reply ended in kisses. I dropped you home where you told me that you lived there with a significant other (Jessica) but that you were in the 'end phases' of a relationship. Whatever the fuck THAT means, Poindexter. And then..... you message me to tell me to come back to yours after I have dropped my friend off. I'm sorry, but I'm not as cheap as a bucket of chicken. Readers: Ex-boyfriend lookalikes, as the title suggests are ONLY good for free KFC.
Next we have crown, crown, crown, Crown Casino. How strange you are in the early hours of the morning when wandering around are strange men ogling at me and actually articulating BEFORE thinking (Maybe that part is NOT strange). One particular male had a jaw to the floor after uttering the word 'Cuuuuuuuuute!' at me. But you know what? There isn't enough of that. It was very nice. Thank you, Mr Bizarro. It made me feel like I was an 8.
Now, speaking of 8s......the other thing was that I wanted to comment on (and maybe explain if you are confused by these numbers) is the rating scale that men use to classify women. You know the one where a girl is assessed out of ten. Check out urban dictionary if you don't know of it...
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=1%20to%2010%20scale
The binary version is also good, and I can work on that one as well, but the rating system itself, it needed a mention. I am using it to justify my shallow and superficial tendencies ESPECIALLY for those friends of mine who are adamant that I am too picky. My selection criteria (see last year's entries 'My perfect guy')forms my rubric to assess guys out of ten in the three crucial areas: Cute, smart and funny. The existence of such a popular score card is evidence that I am NOT the only person out there who does this. Just one of a few number of self-aware females who recognises that I do it. And as I am around a 6-7 or above in cute, smart and funny, I expect my man to also be of the same standard. If they fall below the yellow line, they face elimination. They may get a chance at a 'cook-off' like ranga boy had (He was a 5 in cute and funny), but generally, for them, 'It's time to go". Because why should I settle for less than I am worth?
Now, I think this checklist is up for review. It has been over twelve months since it's last revision, in which time I have dated and met many douches that espouse the qualities that I just cannot tolerate. Stay tuned.
*End rant*
Next edition will be on the lawyer from Brighton. I have a date with him on Friday night. As for those other guys that are emailing me....... I think I will just have to pretend that you haven't because you are nice people, it's just a height thing. But who knows, if I met you at a pub, and first base was that I let you buy me KFC, then that WOULD be a step I could allow!