Dating Kit

Adventures of a Single Girl…

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Short Changed at Christmas

These days, dating can be very unromantic. It’s not like it was in the movies I grew up watching. It’s mostly online, a few messages back and forth and then on to making plans.

But, I like to throw in a step before that. I like to have a chat with the guy I’m thinking of meeting. It’s for a few reasons, but mostly I want to hear their voice and see if they can string together a sentence and hold a conversation. If their voice has me reaching to plug up my ears, then a date isn’t going to happen. And if there are awkward silences from their end, well, why would I want to meet them?

An added bonus of having a chat is that you can sometimes weasel information out of them that you can’t ask straight out online. I know what you’re thinking: what can’t you ask online? Well, of course I can ask whatever I want, technically. But if they want to lie, then they will. So I tend not to ask the important questions online, because it’s too easy for them to fib. One such question is about their height. If they don’t mention it in their profile, and their pic is ambiguous, of course I want to ask it.

But if someone asked you about the main thing you’re sensitive about, how honest would you be?

Thus, I’ve realized it’s best not to mention it in the online chat. But, these things are more easily brought up over the phone. It was that way with this guy, Simon. I couldn’t tell how tall he was from his pic, and so it came in convo. And he said he was 5’7. That’s at the absolute minimum for me. I was a bit iffy about that, because guys have a tendency to apply the same describing method they use for fishing, to their height and the size of their dick. Well, we’re not at the dick stage, but he might have been doing it to his height.

I’ve reached the conclusion that 5’7 is the minimum, because I’m just less than 5’2 and I like to wear heels. So if he’s added an extra inch or two, he’s actually only 5’5, and if I’m wearing my heels, I’m probably 5’5. Yep, that’s not going to work for me. I like a guy who’s taller than me all of the time.

Simon and I’d been messaging for ages and had really invested ourselves in seeing what could become of our efforts, so I decided I’d meet him.

He texted me during the day of our date, and suggested a French restaurant. I’m not exactly a foodie, but I thought, what the hell? I checked out their menu online and thought, ‘well this is a first, I’ll give it a crack and see what happens.’

We arranged to meet at a hotel that he suggested because it has a gigantic Christmas tree in its foyer. Simon and I are both mad on Christmas, so it would be a great meeting point.

I knew the hotel and I figured that if he was late, I could get a drink there before he arrived. I’ll always try to work it to my advantage so that I can feel most comfortable.

He arrived right on time (bummer, no drink for me) and found me staring up in awe at the tree in a very childlike manner.

As we walked to the restaurant, I realized two things: he did not factor in that I’m a woman and I’d be wearing heels because the resti was too far for a chick in heels. The other thing was that he was short. Short.

Now, I’m a polite person, but this is a big deal (couldn’t resist) for me. And, sometimes when I’m trying not to say something, and I’m trying to distract myself by thinking of other things, the one comment I’m trying to avoid saying just comes out! So, while we were walking up a cobblestone laneway, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “so how tall are you, anyway?” He gave some flippant response to try to avoid divulging the numbers, but I wasn’t having any of that. I said, “I thought you said you were 5’7.” He said, “yeah, there abouts.” I replied, “thereabouts nothing, dude, I’m wearing heels, but even if I wasn’t, you’d barely be taller than me.” Then he tried to say he was 5’6 but I said, ‘nope, you’re 5’5 and that’s barely.’

We put it behind us and went to dinner. I was right about the cuisine, it doesn’t provide many options for a chick like me who isn’t very adventurous. He knows how to date though, it would be an amazing date spot for a Francophile or someone who likes to try new foods.

Alas, I had to order steak and pomme frites, which were actually delish. I also couldn’t get a drink as their wine list is extensive, but I’m not a wine girl. Their spirits and liqueurs didn’t include any I liked, so I had soft drink. Boring. But fine.

After dinner, we went to have a look at more Christmas trees, including the one pictured. I love how Melbourne lights up at Christmas. We jumped on a tram, and he tried to put his arm around me. But it felt like my 12 year old nephew was doing it. So awks. I felt really bad because he’s a nice guy, but there was just no attraction for me, and any chance of that stopped the minute I saw how short he was.

At one stage, I tried to see if I could muster it up, and I made a small move, but it was half arsed and half hearted, and I felt nothing.

We went our separate ways, and kept in touch, but I had to tell him that I couldn’t date him. I said I was happy to be friends with him, and that’s held true. We text and we’ve had dinner since then. But romance with a shortie? Not gonna happen.

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First Date: Kiss of Death 

It took a little while to meet this guy, but it started the same was they often do. We met on PoF, and chatted for a few weeks. We were keen to meet each other, but initially, he was too busy with his work and his children, so our first date had to be deferred.  

We chatted on the phone one night, and the chat went for 1.5 hours!! He’s very opinionated, but seemingly about the same things I am, so that’s a good sign. I have lots of opinions, you might have noticed.  

We didn’t get to talk again but gradually got around to making plans. He suggested we meet up after my dance class on a Thursday night for a coffee, but I said that it would be dinner time for me because I’d have rushed to class from work, and thus, we should eat. I was just throwing that out there, and it could have gone south, but he agreed immediately. (So often, guys are terrified by the thought of sitting down and having something to eat. It’s like they think that their foot is going to be strapped to the table and they can’t leave. I assume they’re worried about not being able to leave, or running out of conversation, but with me, that rarely happens. I don’t cover both sides of a convo, but I definitely know how to get them talking if they’re struggling.) Kiss of Death

Later on, however, he texted and told me he couldn’t meet me because his son was concerned about him being out late, because we would be starting late. That’s fair enough, but instead, we made plans for the following night. 

During the day, he texted me and we confirmed we were both still keen to meet up.  

We joked and talked about the possibility of sharing a kiss that evening. He actually said, “Lol, well if I thought you weren’t interested and there was no chance of a sneaky kiss there would be no point having dinner! I have to believe there is every chance you could be the one!” And then, “I hope that doesn’t scare you.” Of course it didn’t and I told him so. I was really hoping that the connection we seemed to have on text and over the phone would translate to an even better connection in person.  

But he was right. Generally, I don’t do a lot of flirting via text. It’s not the right medium for me. I’m not a natural flirt, and when I do, I want to see and be attracted to the person with whom I’m flirting. Forcing myself to flirt online or in text opens me up to guys who expect more from me when we meet than I might want to give, so I avoid it.  

After work, we were still texting and it was getting complicated figuring out where to meet. We had been talking about meeting at Lygon St the night before, but that place is so much busier on a Friday that I asked if there was anywhere else he could think of.  

We were on opposite ends of town, him south, me north east, and we decided to meet up in Thornbury.  

We drove there separately, from our opposite origins. I got there first, found a place to park and rang him. My car was so far away from the pub that I’d need to walk a good ten minutes and it was drizzling. He had a spot on the other side of the main street, in a street that I knew, so I drove to him. We talked as I was driving, and it turned out he was standing on the side of the road, so I picked him up and drove closer to the pub.  

I can tell you, that’s not something I’ve ever done with a guy I didn’t know, and I told him so. He gave me that old line, “well, it’s not like we’re strangers,” but to me, until we’ve met in person, we are strangers. We might be friends, but we’re still strangers.  

I found a spot and parked, and it was all pretty comfy. Sometimes, parking with a guy in the car can be nerve wracking, especially a new guy, but I nailed it, as per usual. What can I say? I’m a gun at parking. 

We got out and started walking to the pub. I had high heels on and as it was wet, he pointed out slippery looking concrete and uneven kerbs. It was really sweet, and all the while he walked on the road side of the footpath. 

When we reached the dining room, he graciously stood back while I took the seat I wanted. I love when a guy does chivalrous things like that, letting me have the seat facing out, walking on the road side, pulling out chairs. They’re old fashioned acts, but I’m an old fashioned girl.  

Anyhoo, a couple of minutes later, as we were talking, I realised that my bench seat was cushioned to such a degree that I was really low and having to look up at him across the table. For sure I’m short, and he’s tall, but it just wouldn’t do. I mentioned it and he offered to switch. As we did, we had a little moment of electricity, which was cute. He said I didn’t need to move my bag or coat, and I kinda liked that he wasn’t so manly he couldn’t be seen with a handbag.  

We ordered drinks and dinner, and what ensued was a lovely evening of chatting, filling in blanks from the many texts we’d sent each other, and learning more about each other.  

After dinner he hopped up and went to pay for the meal before I could say anything, so I thanked him and we got all wrapped up in our coats and scarves and went for a walk down the street. We strolled and chatted and talked about dating. It was pretty chilly and there were moments when I was pretty sure he wanted to hold my hand, but I was so cold I couldn’t leave my hands out of my pockets! He couldn’t stay any longer as he needed to get back to his son, so he walked me back to my car. Kiss of Death

I offered to drop him back to his, and he jumped into my car. We drove back to the street where his car was parked, and I thanked him for a lovely evening. We sat there looking at each other for what seemed like an hour, but it wasn’t. But it was awks nonetheless, and I couldn’t help but ask if he was going to kiss me. And he did.  

It had been awks before we kissed, and it was just as awks during! Not because it was bad, but just because I was wearing my coat, and was trying to turn to him behind the steering wheel. Plus he’s so much taller than me. And he has a bit of a beard and it’s been ages since I kissed someone with a beard. I’d forgotten that sensation!  

The kisses were good but I looked forward to kissing him properly, without twisting uncomfortably in the car.  

I woke up the next morning with a freakishly sore neck.  

Matt and I texted during the day and I told him. In the evening, when I was getting ready to go out, he checked in about how my neck was. Sweet. 

During the evening we texted a fair bit and he admitted that “it feels like it’s moving along quite nicely, early days though.” My thoughts exactly. How exciting.  

That was a fun story wasn’t it? All full of promise for the future? 

Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s actually the end of it! After that, it just fizzled out and he stopped texting. I know better than to keep that up if there’s no reciprocation, so that was it. 

Talk about disappointing. But, it is what it is. Fortunately for me, I don’t get too involved emotionally. I can’t afford to, on my quest for the future Mr Kit, whether that be a husband or boyfriend.  

Sometimes when you break your own rules, you can set yourself up for failure. You can’t know for sure how events would differ if you hadn’t stepped out of your comfort zone, but if you have faith in your own rules you’ll be sure that you haven’t compromised yourself. By doing things I wouldn’t usually do, like picking him up along the way and inadvertently accelerating the intimacy by being in a car with him, perhaps I changed the course of our fate. You just don’t know, do you?  

Either way, it’s best to make decisions for yourself based on what you can cope with, and results you can live with. Changing those at the last minute can have all sorts of results.



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I’m Aussie, and it shows, because we abbreviate lots of words. What we don’t abbreviate, we lengthen! Here are a few words and phrases I use. Some of them are mine all mine, but some are just those which have found their way into my vernacular.

Awks – short for awkward, meaning uncomfortable or weird. “Man, it was so awks!!”

Awkwardo – long for awkward, but with a bit more emphasis, like, “awk-waaardo.” Often sung.

Mentale – mental, but my way. Pronounced, “mentahlay.”

Hilares – short for hilarious, because you know, most things are! Pronounced, “hilairs”

Faux beau – GAP Male Scale and World Male Scale

Resti – why go to a restaurant when you can go to a resti? It’s the same thing of course, but my version!

Pash – a kiss but with a bit more action than just lips!!

Pash rash – the itchy and scratchy you get on your face (or elsewhere, you lucky devil) after a big long pash, usually caused by his stubble, stubble that may or may not have been there when you first started pashing, if you’ve had a lovely long session!

Pashmina – usually this is an item of clothing but to me, it’s

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Long weekend drinks with an Irish Gilbert Blythe (part two)

I introduced you to Connor in http://Long weekend dump(lings) date, and after dinner, we headed down the road to the Doutta Galla Hotel,where we spent some time sitting around talking and then standing around talking and bopping to the music the DJ was playing.

We sat around outside in the gorgeous warm summer’s air and with every second sentence, he touched my arm. Sometimes they were somewhat accidental but others they were very deliberate strokes. Sweet! I hardly had to do anything but one thing’s for sure, I was happy for him to show his affection and I didn’t shy away from any of it. I defo wanted him to know that even though I wasn’t reciprocating in the same way, the feelings were mutual. (I actually find it odd when people mirror another person’s actions, and since I’ve noticed it in other people, I don’t always find it genuine.)

And as is typical, the moment for a kiss gradually arrived. I love that feeling when you know you like him, and he likes you, and short of an apocalypse, nothing will prevent that kiss from happening, so just be patient and let it build up. That tension is amazing. One of the best feelings a person can have, I reckon.

Our first kiss came after lots of little Anne of Green Gables jibes at each other, little touches on the face and playful punches. Very sweet. He wasn’t shy but also wasn’t aggressive. And in fact, I’m pretty sure that I ended up kissing him first, after our faces had come so close once before that the second time I wasn’t going to miss another opportunity. It was all very lovely and sweet. (Fortunately, o03.09.16bur attempts ended better than Gilbert Blythe’s.)

What wasn’t so lovely is that Connor kept ‘accidentally’ touching my boobs!! He’s much taller than me, and very prone to using his hands when he talks, so a few times I was swatted by the back of his hands without him actually meaning to. Then, when I pointed it out, well, it became less accidental and more playful. But hello, we’re in a pub! I do not want other drunk skunk guys to think that’s acceptable, so I had to put a stop to that. And I did, as best I could.

Soon the pub was shutting, and I’d missed the last train home. As the date had gone on much longer than I’d expected, and we’d shouted each other drinks (after he paid for our dumplings dinner), I was skint and thinking that I really didn’t want to outlay much more for the night.

So it was agreed that I’d go back to his place, which was around the corner. I made it clear it wasn’t for a shag, and he acknowledged that. As we walked, I got him to give me his license and I took a pic and sent it to my friend on messenger, along with his phone number and name.

By the time we got into his place she’d messaged back a dossier of info on him. She’s amazing at that. She always has my back and loves investigating guys I’m arranging to meet. I’ve never had to call on her for this, while en route, because I rarely go home with a guy. But I was definitely glad to have her back up and if she’d given me any negative info, I’d have come up with another plan.

We pulled out the couch into a bed and watched a movie. Well, I did; he fell asleep. I was cool with that and when the movie finished, I took myself off to his bed and got a few good hours’ sleep. Excellent.

I tell you, you don’t know awks until you wake up in a guy’s bed and suddenly realise you need to figure out getting home from one date to squeeze in some more sleep before you go off to another date that you know will result in very little sleep. So bad!! (Such are the trials of a single woman with an active dating life!) I’d considered getting up and bolting to the station while he was sleeping, but my feet were so sore I didn’t think I’d be able to make it, so I stayed put.

When Connor joined me later on, we cuddled and slept and chatted. He even gave me a calf massage because my calves were sore from dancing the night before and from wearing heels during our date. And he didn’t try to turn it into sex. Not that minute anyway, but I’m not stupid enough to think the massage was just  him being nice. He said he missed doing things like that with someone, but in my head I thought, yes and I’m guessing there are other things you miss doing, that you think this will lead to! But he was wrong, and I just let him give me the massa03.09.16age anyway.

He did try plenty, and I didn’t go for it. I’m just not the one night stand kinda girl these days. I’ve had them before and don’t judge myself for it, but I’m not up for that these days. If I’d had more money, and hadn’t had such a good time spending it on grog, I would have gotten a taxi home from the pub.

But I didn’t, and though I felt pretty safe going home with him, that doesn’t mean I need to shag him, and I’d made that clear when we left the pub. So I didn’t, and actually, I avoided a lot of the things he wanted to do. Frankly, he was a little beggy, and while most guys are when they’re alone with a woman, I’m over it. I’m all for giving it a crack, but please, please, please just give it a rest after I’ve said no.

Stop trying to entice me, because I get a bit jack of having to say no, and then when I get annoyed, trying to keep a lid on it, when all I really want to do is have a tantrum because it’s fucking insulting that they each think they’ll get me to change my mind. I don’t owe them an apology or an explanation but I just don’t want to fuck every guy I meet, regardless of how cute they are, and boy is he cute.

I know there are times when unplanned sex happens, after someone’s said they won’t, and then they change their mind. If it’s agreed by both, great, go for it! But if they don’t change their mind, don’t keep hounding, and accept their decision. End of.

Clear that no shag was going to take place, we got up and went out for brunch. Stay tuned for part three!

Xx Kit

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Irish eyes, German food- first date recipe for disaster?

Originally, my first date with Earl was supposed to be just drinks. We’d chatted online and once over the phone. I’d instigated the phone call as Plenty of Fish has a calling option. I really prefer to have a bit of a chat on the phone before I meet someone. He seemed lovely.  He was Irish and had a lovely accent, but that’s just a bonus for me. I’m not that girl who goes ga ga over an accent. Most of my friends are from overseas, so it’s neither here nor there for me.

En route to the city on the night of our date, we were texting and he suggested we have dinner. That’s always my preference, especially if I’m travelling half an hour to meet a guy. I haven’t always tried to enforce that preference, and this must have been one of those occasions when I was letting it slide, but it was good that he suggested it.

We met at Flinders St Station and he suggested we go across the river to Southbank, where we could choose a resti.

I have to say, my first impression of Earl was mixed. He was shorter than I’d expected (I usually pay a lot more attention to the heights listed on profiles online, but maybe he’d exaggerated, or maybe I’d not noticed), and he was only a few inches taller than me. Ie, not enough!

We wandered across to Southbank and discussed our options. Frankly, it can be a bit dicey over there. It’s not that there are no restis but depending on your budget and the occasion, it can be limiting.

After checking out our options, we decided on Hophaus Bier Bar Grill. As a first date venue, it’s okay, but not for me. It delivers what it says it will, beer and German food, but frankly, it’s not in the slightest bit romantic, nor does the food lend itself to a date night. It’s perfect for hanging out with your friends, but I’m not a beer drinker, and so having few options to eat, it wasn’t great for me.

So let’s focus on the company. He was a fun guy, told me all about his previous relationships, and watched me try to control my jaw when he told me he’d had ‘two relationships’. He’d never had a girlfriend and then met his wife who he was with for 13 years, and then they split and within two weeks he had another gf. That ended only three weeks before our date. Blimey. It’s so familiar, just like my ex husband’s history before me. I agreed with him that he should be single for a while and just have fun and get to know himself. He said he’s got more confidence than he used to so he should be able to get more out of life now.

Right there, we decided we wouldn’t be getting too serious. But, I wasn’t really looking for casual either, so I figured I’d just spend time with him and see- but not get too involved.

Our conversation was easy and smooth, and at one stage he told me I’m pretty chatty. I responded that if I wanted to sit quietly and say nothing I’d be at home with my cats and my tv, but I’m out, so why not chat? He seemed shocked by that but agreed.

What the hell? Besides, it’s not like I was eating. I’d had to settle for a starter, and that wasn’t exactly keeping me occupied.

He recovered quickly and after he paid for our dinner (which was mostly his dinner) we continued our date by heading downstairs to the pub, PJ O’Brien’s where we had a few 24.07.16drinks and talked more. It was there that he worked up the courage to plant one on me.

His kiss was beery, and warm and just lovely enough to make me want more. I liked that he was gentlemanly while also showing signs of his previous lack of confidence. By then we were both a bit tipsy and more relaxed by the minute. I paid for the first round and he bought more, so I think that liquid gold was helping him.

When it was time to head home, he walked me to the station and on to the platform. He kissed me on the escalator, but he was on the lower step, and as he’s not that tall, so it was tres awks!!

I wasn’t sure if I’d see him again, seeing as we were definitely on different steps in life as well as on the date, but at least the kisses we’d had on solid ground had been good!!

Xx Kit

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