Dating Kit

Adventures of a Single Girl…

The Revhead Who Stalled My Engine

It’s Grand Prix time in Melbourne and that’s usually a pretty exciting time to be here. If you’re not from Melbourne, we’re a social city and have lots going on all the time, but we step it up for big occasions, like the GP or our AFL Grand Final.

People come from all over the world for these events, and the locals get excited too, because we are a sporting nation, and Melbourne is our sporting capital. I’ve been before, when I was married. My husband bought tickets for us and my sister, for her birthday. I’m not into cars of any kind, but as I’m always keen to experience new things, I went along.

It was loud, and busy, and as it was the Sunday – the day of the final – Albert Park Lake was abuzz with excitement.  It was a fun day, but meh. Not my thing.

A couple of weeks ago, I was offered tickets to the GP, which was very cool! It’s held over four days, the first three being heats for the big race, and races of various other kinds of vehicle.  I’m not into car racing at all, so I wouldn’t think to take time off work on the Thursday and Friday. It’s cheaper to get in on those days but of course there’s less exciting stuff going on. At the weekend, I couldn’t afford to buy the ticket at all.

But, I’m not as into car racing as lots of people are. I’ve met men who are maaaaaaaaaaad for it. Frankly, I don’t get it. It bores me silly.  Not only am I not into it, I actually quite dislike it. I find it extremely bogan, and just completely removed from the world I live in and the life I live. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still the cash poor single woman who started this blog years ago, but I’m just not into cars.

I don’t get the car culture. In Australia, you’re either a Holden fan or a Ford fan. And then there’s V8s, Moto GP, Formula One, and the rest. Whatevs!! People get around wearing clothes with car brand logos on them and I just groan. If they’re wearing a t shirt with a logo on it, I can cope. But it’s when they wear the t shirt, and the jacket and the hat or the beanie. It’s too much!

Fortunately, my ex husband wasn’t into it. Of course, he also didn’t have his driver’s licence, which actually would have actually been helpful! Anyhoo, as I’m not into the car racing thing, the type of guy who is, doesn’t exactly fit into ‘my type’ of guy.

But, a couple of years ago, after I was divorced, and I was back on the dating scene, one such guy popped up. We chatted online and he seemed nice enough. I think his name was Darren, but to be honest, I hadn’t thought about him in years, until something about the GP brought him back to the fore. My colleague and I were talking about the type of people I’d be seeing at the GP- and there he was in my mind.

At the time I ‘met’ him, I was being open to all sorts of men. I knew the type of man I’d married, but knew that here was my chance to widen my scope and not be so stuck on a particular type. And, a guy who was into car racing was definitely beyond my scope! Not only was he into cars, but he was a pit crew member. I know, of all the guys I could possibly meet! Sooooo not fair!

I can’t remember the chats, but I’ve never been one to go on a date for the hell of it, so there must have been some sort of substance to our conversations for me to have gone ahead with setting up a date with him.

We arranged to meet at Crown casino, at a bar which has long since closed down. It was evening, and I’d dressed for drinks at Melbourne’s biggest establishment. Crown was more fancy back then, and going there was an occasion. Knowing me, I would have worn a cute dress or perhaps some shorts and a top- and high heels, I nearly always wear high heels, especially on a date.

Darren and I texted while we each approached the bar, and when I got there he was there, sitting at a closed part of the bar. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There he was, facing the door on a bar stool, as though he was a king sitting on his throne.

That was okay, but what the hell was he wearing? I’ll tell you. It was a jacket which was so big and so long, and so completely covered in car badges- EMBLAZONED with badges for various models, accessory brands, sponsors. It was gross. And it was NOT date attire. When I pointed out his jacket (not the first words out of my mouth!!), he talked all about it, and his job. He was so keen on it, that he had no idea that I’d completely tuned out and was only giving him eye contact, and no actual attention. Then, of course, he told me aaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllll about his job on the pit crew for whatever type of car racing he was into. I’ve no idea, and I don’t think I did at the time.

I remember enjoying my drink immensely, because it was the highlight of the night.

I made up some bullshit about having to go and meet friends (which is also another great reason to look amazing when you go out, because you can say you’re going out afterwards, even if you’re not), and hotfooting it out of there.

I think we texted a little in the following days, but that was it. There’s no way I could continue to go out with a guy who thinks it’s acceptable to wear racing gear on a date. Do I wear my netball uniform? Nope. They’d probably like that, but no. If I was into cooking, would I wear an apron? No, because it’s not what you wear on a bloody date!

He’s done, and so am I with dating people who don’t know how to dress to impress me. End of.



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Brave, Independent, Single Woman- getting it done

See this thing?

Years ago, my ex husband bought it, and I laughed and laughed. I thought, what an idiot! Who would use that thing?

Well, yesterday, it was my saving grace. I’m terrified of spiders and I had to put my Christmas stuff and spare chairs back into the shed.

This week I’ve been going through all my things and deciding what to keep and what I don’t want.

I texted my sisters for support, and tucked my phone into my waistband.

So, when I put my gardening gloves on and opened the shed door, I realised, that job wasn’t finished. With the Christmas boxes out of the shed, I could see what was sitting in there already.

It’s a small shed, but it holds plenty. I come from a big family who grew up in a small house, and if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s pack stuff. And last year, my dad came over, and we put two clever heads together and packed it really well.

At the time, there were possessions which I wasn’t sure about. I wasn’t using them but I wasn’t ready to get rid of them, either.

But yesterday, with not many bucks in the bank, I thought, bugger it, they’re taking up space and it’s been years and I still haven’t used them. Do I really need a second tool kit? And what about that balance board I used to love but haven’t used in years?

It’s also hard rubbish time in my neighbourhood shortly, so I figured I could get rid of all the things which are so old I’ll never use- like the picnic chairs which had previously been left outdoors for too long. All this meant I had some work to do.

It was bloody hot yesterday, so apart from the risk of spiders which were terrifying me (though I couldn’t see any so far), the heat was going to keep me from staying in there too long.

Time restriction or not, I still had to get in there and do the job.

So I braced myself and grabbed a shovel that I could reach, and used it to grab this device. Then I used it, or the shovel, to reach for things or move them out of the way so that I could reach the next thing.

It probably wasn’t as fast as just going in there and picking things up, but I was able to lift or shove what I needed to. Picking up bottles of methylated spirits, and tins of paint put a strain on this device, but it worked!
And yes, I forced myself to go in and grab things. But I was like lightning!!

I really don’t know how everything fit in there before, but now it fits better and there’s space (which I seem to be craving this week), thanks to the stuff I pulled out. And lucky me, I had no encounters with live spiders. Woohoo!

Now I have to figure out how to sell this stuff, or it’ll all have to go on hard rubbish next month.

These are the types of jobs that single women have to do. We can’t just wait for someone to come along and do them for us- instead, we just have to do it. And I found a way to get it done. I’m proud of myself. Thank God I don’t have to admit to my ex husband that his idea was a good one.

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Abrupt End to My “Office” Romance

It’s getting harder and harder to meet guys. Once upon a time, it was perfectly acceptable to meet a guy at work and date.

But these days, it’s become fraught with issues. There’ve been so many cases of sexual harassment in the news lately, that it’ll likely scare people from approaching each other. It’s probably safer that way, lest an approach be seen as untoward, or perhaps a violation.

However, a conversation I had reminded me of a time when I dated a colleague from work.

We were both working in hospitality, in a pub. He was one of the night security guards who worked checking ID and keeping us safe from unruly, and drunken customers. Basically, he was a bouncer.

He was keen to get into acting and regularly took classes. He was into looking good, and liked to work out, and keep fit.

He was a couple of years younger than me, and I didn’t have my drivers licence
. As he lived in the same suburb as me, on the nights he was working he’d often drive me home.

We got to know each other very well, and gradually we began dating. One of our first dates was going to Crown Casino after work to watch a midnight movie.

He lived in a bungalow in the backyard of his mum’s place, and often stayed there with him.

At the beginning, we tried to keep our relationship on the DL from our work mates. It just seemed that while we were starting out, it was safer. That way there’d be less gossiping and less drama. Colleagues we were friendly with soon picked up on it, and it wasn’t an issue. Gradually, word got out, and all was fine. We weren’t the first two people to get together in that workplace, and we wouldn’t have been the last.

After a little while, I noticed that my boyfriend had cigarettes in his car. He’d been so keen on fitness and looking good that it was very out of character. I wasn’t a smoker, and there he was with cigarettes in his car. I’ve never been keen on dating someone who smoked, so this was not good.

Then, one afternoon, he texted me that I’d left my pink hair bow at his place.

That was nice of him.

Except for one thing. I didn’t have a pink hair bow.

But I knew who did.

A girl we worked with was well known for wearing such hair accessories. She was more than a colleague, I counted her as a friend. But it turns out that she didn’t see me the same way, or she thought that it was more important to shag my boyfriend. Either way, charming.

And that was the end of that. I broke up with him immediately.

It was awkward at work for a little while, especially as I was no longer interested in being friends with either of them. Overall, there were no issues, but it wasn’t long before the bouncer left the building and went to work elsewhere.

I was upset with both of them for betraying me. I don’t know if he’d actually started smoking, or whether they were her cigarettes. I’d like to think he started smoking out of guilt for cheating on me, but who really knows?

A couple of years later, I saw him working in a video games shop. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a lot chubbier and less toned than he’d been when we’d known each other.

Another place I worked at sprouted lots of relationships. I know of two marriages from there, and now there are children. So it’s worked out well for those people.

All in all, I wouldn’t say that it’s a bad idea to date a workmate, but I can’t help but think about the downside of it. When it goes wrong, and relationships so often do, someone gets hurt, and then it can be on a large scale with a huge audience watching to see who’s dealing with it better. And let’s not forget that it could be a manager/ employee situation. What then? Even more awkward, with office politics thrown in.

It’s not something that should be rushed into, that’s for sure. If you’re crushing on someone you work with, try to imagine the bad parts as well as the good, and then decide if you want to get to know them better.

It’s nearly Christmas, and with workplace Christmas parties coming up, it’s especially important that you think about everything before you ‘accidentally’ find yourself under the mistletoe with that hottie you’ve been perving on, think first, and pash second. Many an end of year shindig has resulted in dance floor pashes which become office fodder by Monday morning, and that’ll be you if you’re not careful. It’s okay if it’s what you want, but make sure it’s with someone you’re actually interested in, and not someone who fished you out of the middle of a handbag circle for the hell of it, or because you looked the easiest to snare.

Remember, you deserve the best, whether it’s a pash, shag, or a relationship, it should be with someone you’re truly interested in, especially if it’s someone at work. There’s too much at risk, particularly your heart.

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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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