Confucius Says...

Hello friends.  It's time to get real.

This morning I was having breakfast along the Brisbane river, just me and my other half...my phone.  I was bored by my own company so I jumped on Tinder to pass the time, flicked a few gents to the right but mostly a lot to the left so I began to let my mind wander.

I began mulling over many things such as how I am going to be single forever, what to do on my days off, but mostly, how I wish my breakfast had toast and how hard it will be to give up gluten but I have to give it a shot to feel better. 

Looking back on the date with Bachelor No.3 - Mr J (Mr Normal) I was wondering how in this age of dating what is needed to secure date number two.  I was sure I'd have a second catch up with Mr J to explore the initial banter but the feeling wasn't mutual - totally misread the results of that interaction!

I guess that illusive spark is key.  The spark is not the same for each person, it can't be. Therefore, in this day and age when dating is so trivial and there is always the next best option just a flick to the right away, it's got to be harder to find that person who feels a mutual attraction. 

After one encounter, what is the barometer to indicate you will be seeing that person again to explore if you really are compatible? The majority of male profiles say that banter, being easy going and 'normal' is what they are looking for above all else. Therefore if you fulfil those three things then will you see them again or do you still need to be a fitness model to secure date number two?  

Deep down are men still only going to be attracted to that stereotypical bimbo who will sit there and not say anything, just look pretty to make all their mates jealous?  I am confused.

Apps such as Tinder are completely superficial to begin with, success is based on appearance initially which is why meeting relatively quickly is important.  They say it takes only 7 seconds to make the right impression after meeting.  That's not a lot of time at all, to achieve a swipe to the right you probably only have about 4 seconds or even less if they can't be bothered to read your bio.  If you can't back up the physical attraction with personality it's not going to go anywhere if you are looking for something deeper than a one night stand.

For me, banter = attraction.  If the conversation (note, not interrogation) is there, if you can make me laugh and are not a dick, then the physical attraction is solidified.

I've been watching last season of Married At First Sight (don't judge me, I'm already ashamed), but the social experiment is fascinating.  All the compatibility tests, personality studies and hormone attraction testing still doesn't guarantee success.  One woman was 53 and never been married.  53!!! Her eggs are way past their sell by date plus she had as much substance in her brain as a wafer biscuit AND even she got matched with someone! How do we everyday singles have a hope in heck of striking the right one when we don't have science experts on speed dial to help a sister out!

Anyway, I guess the gist of this post is I'm feeling disillusioned.  Continuing conversations with a couple of matches at one time is a full time job.  I don't have the energy to weed them out before meeting them - plus - apparently no guy wants a pen pal they want dinner dates and lately I'm working night shifts so that crosses that out when they work during the day.  I'm finding very little tolerance for shift work, they can't be arsed with the chit chat if you can't meet up with them within a day so they unmatch quite quickly. Wankers.

Bachelor No.4 might be a bit further away, sorry folks, but as soon as it does you'll be first to know.  Until then, I'll keep swiping.

Confucius says??

Bachelor No.3 - Mr J...No tag line, just Mr J

I began this adventure/entry into the abyss, with the intention of one date per week - no naked dates Mum so stop thinking that you've raised a hussy. I did it mainly  with the intention on proving how screwed up the concept of finding someone is these days, but ultimately with the hope that maybe I'll strike a decent bloke eventually. I'm sick of my own company 24/7, I need someone else to annoy.  Everyone tells you that you have to kiss a few frogs to find the Prince. Now anyone who knows me is aware that I don't really care for frogs, they are actually one of my biggest fears, no wonder I suck at the dating thing.

To be honest, three dates in three weeks is the best I've done in my entire life so I'm already pretty chuffed even if two out of three have been complete duds. The bar was set pretty low for the next lucky fella to make my delightfully intriguing acquaintance - gee didn't I sound like a wanker then?! If he could hold a conversation, cover a diverse range of topics and manage to make me laugh he'd pretty much impress the socks off me - lucky I wasn't wearing socks on the date so that made it even easier for the lad.

May the crowd please be upstanding for Bachelor number three  - please enter the ring for round one Mr J! *ding ding ding* (I've removed the card carrying bikini girls because I don't need the imagery to blow my self esteem this early on, plus lets face it, any normal woman who prefers to actually eat food would rather sit on one of them and force feed them burgers until they explode).

From the initial back and forth messages over Tinder (yes, the app strikes again), Mr J and I seemed to have some banter going on.  I sensed a similar sense of humour, we are both looking for someone 'normal' and we have a common interest of a love of food.

His experiences with my gender were equally pretty appalling. He mentioned that if I had a job and didn't expect to be taken to a rape dungeon for the first date I was already starting off on good footing - clearly his expectations were also pretty below par for me to nab a date out of him also, gee I love a low benchmark!

My favourite meal of the day was set as the date time of choice - breakfast.  With the combination of two of my greatest loves, coffee and eggs, things really couldn't go wrong. I woke not feeling 100%, i'm not sure if it was the dinner the night before that was making me want to throw up or if I was a wee bit nervous.  I'm thinking it was the definitely the dinner.

I put little effort into preparation for this one, sorry Mr J, I really wanted to wear my active wear because now I'm over 30 I love to dress for comfort.  The fella was lucky I'd washed by hair and put a little curl to it, that was about it - jeans are an acceptable date attire for future reference, aren't they?

We went to the Northshore Harbour Cafe, Hamilton.  Check it out if you've never been, cracking breakfast menu, fantastic coffee plus a view of the river.  On a sidenote, I could combine these expeditions with a sponsored post by the venue of choice - could make some extra cash from these posts - Ange, you're a genius! *clap, clap, take a bow*

Usually I'd choose to meet at said location for the first date as we have all learned, a dose of gastro could suddenly come up if he's as boring as bat shit and a speedy get away may be required. However, Mr J offered to pick me up, since he didn't give off any initial stalker vibes and I'd already had a couple of chuckles during message exchanges I agreed.  

Whilst waiting for breakfast to arrive the conversation continued to flow easily.  After swapping battle stories, his much more shocking than mine, I discovered that some women are bat shit crazy. Covering topics of travel - quite a lot done by Mr J, me nothing. Business - him a lot of highlights, my only really notable experience of recently evacuating a hotel during a neighbouring fire.  Life experience, for him only being three years older quite a bit, me yeahhhhhh not much really.  I always knew I put work before all else but Jesus, I really have lived a sheltered life - I was borderline worried I was actually boring in comparison.   

Anyway, with some good chat and some laughs (mostly at Mr J and his online dates) it was time to go.  Mr J dropped me home and date over.  No need to escape was felt, I don't think I made too much of an ass of myself, I didn't hoover my breakfast  (claps excitedly) and pretty sure I gave some resemblance of a normal functioning adult. All round, not a shit date at all and I even wanted to see him again.

So kids. There you have it. First not at all crap experience.  Not sure what will happen next but I'll keep you posted.  If date two is on the cards with Mr J...no tag line just Mr J, let us all hope he falls over and makes some kind of ass of himself because the next post may be boring if he doesn't.  I may have to cover off on the absurd women met during his experience - they will shock and amaze I can guarantee you that.

NB. No schedule for Bachelor No.4 had been made at the time of writing this post.

Let me introduce you Glen, The Master Interrogator....

Not to be deterred by date number one, the eternal optimist in me thought that I am brave/stupid enough to dip my red painted big toe back into the water for a second crack at this dating thing.

Therefore, after a match on Tinder (cue gasps and crossed fingers that this guy wasn't just after a shag, and if a coffee date ends in some horizontal folk dancing then times have changed A LOT) we arranged to meet for a cup of Joe to see if we clicked. Mind you, we'd only been chatting for a day before he suggested the meet up but at least if he was a dud my witty remarks and jokes wouldn't be wasted on a no goer.

10am, My Mistress cafe, Clayfield.  The scene of the crime.  The sun was high in the sky, the hipsters and their French Bulldogs were out in force enjoying avo on toast (apparently you'll never own a home if you eat avo on toast) and I was waiting outside for Glen to turn up - pretty sure I smelt a gas leak, I was hoping that when he arrived he didn't think it was me leaking the gas.

There was a 10 - 15 minute wait for a table, this place was pumping - oozed atmosphere and the coffee is meant to be amazing so I was quite chuffed with my suggestion of location.  I was early and Glen was late so I was waiting at a table inside - first comment after Hi was "it's loud in here". Great observation Glen, I was thinking it added to the character, but sure, turn your hearing aid down to dull the noise then bro.

Should have realised then that it would all go downhill quite quickly.  Insert commencement of interrogation here.  The 411 on Glen to help form a picture in your head; 39, works for Department of Immigration but currently applied for a transfer to Border Force so he can be 'in the field'.  Apparently shy, a homebody and from how much he talked about his best friend Kieran (and that's the way he referred to said friend) has quite the delightful bromance.  Glen is 6 foot 2 (he told me this, apparently height clarification is important), never been married, no kids, quite skinny (underweight, he also told me this), rents in Clayfield, earns $56,000 per year (he also told me this - thanks for the info champ but I couldn't give a flying eff) and then the questions started.

In conversational inverted commas for effect and his words exactly, my responses are in brackets....

"What nationality do you think I am?" (You look kind of Mediterranean). "I'm Philippino and Torres Strait Islander, is that going to be a problem?" (That's an unusual combination, but no").

"I'm very skinny, a little underweight, I've tried putting on weight but I just can't.  Is that going to be a problem? The last girl I went on a date with didn't like how skinny I was.  We went for drinks and after 5 minutes I knew she was a bitch.  She criticised everything about me.  After half an hour I told her she was a bitch and left". 

My internal monologue was screaming ANGE GET UP AND LEAVE NOW!!!!! But I couldn't, I was laughing on the inside and could see the poor kid was nervous so I stayed.  At least he didn't think I was a bitch because he stayed seated....for the next hour.

Basically the next 45 minutes was him talking about every other thing he didn't like about other girls he's been on a date with thus far, and then confirming if I was someone who did and thought the same.

Coffee ended, and he suggested we go for a beer. I said "sure", because I am a people pleaser and can't say no. WHY WHY WHY ANGE?! GET IN YOUR CAR AND DRIVE FAR FAR AWAY. SPEED IF YOU HAVE TO, THE COPS WILL UNDERSTAND - AND ONE MAY EVEN BE HOT.  I've always made poor life choices when it comes to men so why not extend the torture for another hour.

Location change to The Hamilton Hotel.  Choice of beer, me Japanese, him XXXX Gold.  Cue him telling me the previous woman (the 5 minute meeting, aka the bitch) looked down on him drinking XXXX because it wasn't a craft beer "is that going to be a problem Angela" - no Glen, you drink cats piss if you want to, fine by me.

Interrogation continues, me with mostly one word replies only. 

"What do you see your wedding to look like?" (I've never been asked that on a date before, especially after an hour, but small) "Mine will be big, my mother is one of 12, there's about 150 family members alone.  And it would have to be cheap because weddings are a waste of money - would that be a problem?"  (Mate, slow down, we've had coffee and a beer and I'm currently looking for the exits - I didn't actually say the bit about the exits out loud).

"Do you want kids?" (Yes) "How many?" (Two). "You're 33, you realise after 34 the chances to have kids is harder?" (thanks for the fertility information champ, I wasn't aware of the fact that my ovaries are drying up as I scull my beer and I have 6 months till they're completely fucked. I have polycystic ovaries anyway so I probably can't have them easily but I appreciate the info on how much of a barren woman I will become upon my next birthday, thumbs up!).

A lot more questions were being fired my way but I had my nose in my glass sculling the pale liquid so I could make like Road Runner and get the heck out of there.

I used having to pick up my friend Chantal as the excuse to deploy the emergency landing gear to make like a Shepherd and get the flock out of there. The inflatable slide was ready to go.  The doors had been thrown out of the aircraft.  The oxygen masks blowing in the breeze, and I was first out of the plane.  Screw the pregnant women and children first business, this was a dire situation!

So how did it end you ask from the edge of your seat as you wipe away tears of laughter.  The obligatory hug of someone that's letting you down gently, the nice to meet you, talk soon (hell no Mr) and I left skid marks in the car park as I sped home - away from Glen.

He messaged me half an hour later with "Well that was fun".  I politely told him that it was nice to meet him but I didn't feel any romantic chemistry there.  How could he not have picked that up already I thought to myself - clearly I'm that charming, go me.  Glen has since unmatched me on Tinder - sad face.

Moving on kids, up next, Bachelor No. 3.  I won't mention his name cause that date was not horrible and he is probably reading this blog as it came up whilst trading war stories (his are even more hilarious). Hey there Bachelor No.3, wassup?

Just a sample of great Tinder options available....

Mate, your poetry is mindblowing...

Bachelor No. 1 - Dan Dan The Horticulturist Man

Let me preface this date by stating from the start that Dan was lovely.....

Dan was the first person on Plenty of Fish to message me.  What was his opening line you ask, great question - well done you for faking interest!  Dan's opening line was in response to my profile questionnaire to "What is your ideal first date?".  My answer was "something I can beat you at", Dan's contribution to that statement was suggesting sex. Insert cough, drop phone, and chuckle a little. 

Admittedly, if you looked at Dan's profile pictures this would have been the last thing you would have imagined would come out of his mouth/off his keyboard too.  He's a 33 year old, slightly goofy looking, little bit chubby round the middle bloke.   Kudos for the confidence though mate! 

He's not at all what I would usually find attractive but my dear Mum keeps telling me there is more to finding a partner than muscles and tattoos so I thought I'd give it a go - plus his profile and his opening line did make me laugh.

We spent about two weeks chatting over text messages, covering off on day to day topics, we both had a love of Game of Thrones and both want Florence to win The Bachelor, you know those important topics which will create a real solid foundation for a relationship - yep got those covered!  After some chatting we decided to go for ciders and cheese in the park one Sunday afternoon to watch the sunset and see if we had a spark in person.  

Dan met me at mine with an esky, I made a monumental cheese platter (high-fived myself it looked that bloody delicious) and we set off to Newstead Park to  get comfy on a blanket to watch the sunset (how romantic - wasted sunset in the end but hey, we tried).

It all went beige (bland for those who haven't hear the reference of beige before) after the first cider was cracked. Whilst conversation flowed easily the topic didn't really pass work. Found out that Dan was a horticulturist (FYI apparently that's not the same thing as landscaping, horticulture means dealing with soft-scapes, basically plants, grass and shit) for War Graves.  Cue lots of talk about death, post traumatic stress in veterans, more death, widows, crying, suicide....you get the picture?

Pretty much cut this one once the sun went down and the bugs came out to attack what was left of the cheese.  We walked back to our cars, hugged and exchanged the obligatory "nice to finally meet you" lines and went our separate ways.  No stirring in the loins, no physical attraction and if I had to listen to more death talk again I think I'd dig my own grave (that's a bit insensitive, apologies).  

The next day Dan followed up with a lovely message asking how I thought the date went, and finished it off with a "you're a really lovely girl but I just didn't feel any spark or chemistry", phew! Thank god the feeling was mutual - it definitely was him, not me right?? I'm entertaining aren't I? Anyway, thanks for the ciders Dan, all the best with your search and let us meet Bachelor No.2  aka Glen, the master interrogator.

Setting the scene for romance...

Let's start from the beginning....

Well firstly, hello to anyone reading this who isn't my mother - bless you Mum, I do love you and I know you will message me later with grammatical errors to fix.

Who is this person whose life you will be occasionally dropping in on to be enthralled, entertained by and mostly probably just to laugh at?  Hi, I'm Ange. I'm 33, I'm not married. I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not even currently dating someone - I'm single and usually failing to mingle.

To be honest, I haven't really been proactive in the past couple of years to try and change that - so it's probably my own fault for my current situation. But, with a temporary move to Brisbane due to work I am going to try and change that.  And what better way to sift through the frogs of the futile world of dating than to deconstruct my experiences via the written word - it may lead to that elusive Prince or it may lead to a book deal, here's hoping it's either one!

What do you have to look forward to as an avid reader of Musings of Moi?  Whilst my right thumb gets RSI from swiping left and right, my laptop keyboard takes a pounding from the questionnaire filling out of Plenty of Fish and the likes, you can be entertained from the safety of your home whilst eating a box of donuts and shaking your head thinking, 'poor Ange, she's hopeless'.  

I'll be putting myself out there, pushing the old comfort zone, meeting new people and discovering new places.  It won't all be about men because lets face it, Carrie Bradshaw has been there and done that. Consider Musings of Moi to be some 30 something girls therapy, putting laughter to paper or a different perspective on what you couples take for granted.  So, put the kettle on, grab that donut from the box and let's start with Bachelor No. 1 - Dan Dan The Horticulturist Man! 

This is me, the gal behind the blog.