I think I know who my future husband is....

It's time I was honest and acknowledge something, or someone, I've been lusting over.  I'm hesitant to declare this for fear of judgement and backlash on my taste in men. He's semi well known, he's seen every weekday morning by most of Australia. It's not Karl Stefanovic so take that breath you've been holding in - I detest that man.

Back to it people - stay with me here.  Who is this man who has captured my heart I hear you ask eagerly.  Let me tell you a bit about him. He is funny, talented, unafraid of making a goose of himself in public.  He's dashing in an old fashioned way, self-depricating (but not self-loathing), well travelled, sociable, does his bit (and shows his bits - hint hint) for worthy causes.  He owns a cat - I read that as too lazy to walk a dog (I hear ya buddy!) and also a gentle natured soul who is content with his own company because we all know cats are aloof and have a couldn't give two effs personality. Just look at a cat next time, they have the best resting bitch face you've ever seen.

He is handsome (well I think so), the right age older than me (yes I have Googled him to  try and figure this out - I am not a stalker in real life, just on the internet) and did I mention has a great sense of humour.  Basically he's my perfect match in many ways, yes I can make these grand statements without ever having a conversation with him.  I am that confident we are well matched.

The big reveal...sit back from the edge of your seats people....drum roll please......it's Sam Mac from Sunrise. I know I know, I hear what you're saying but how can you not adore him!  Yes there is a problem, he lives in Sydney, he has no idea who I am and the deep seeded affection I hold for him from 7am - 9am Monday to Friday, and if he did he'd probably have me reported to the Police and slap me with an AVO.  FYI I'm not violent - just committed to the cause...seriously, not violent at all.  Unless you count my whit, that  can cut you deep like a knife to the jugular....yep not violent, I've just been watching too many true crime shows lately.  Honestly, trust me *eek eek that's the knife stabby stabby sound like Fatal Attractionesque*. You guys know me, I talk big but I'm tame - I hold doors open for Grannies and shit.

So what should I do?  I've made comments via Instagram on things he's posted - he's written back - I take this as a sign he loves me too.  People meet via social media these days so there is hope there.  Maybe this is how I'll meet my guy, also handy since I don't like to leave my apartment. There are no negatives here, only positives.  He's single, I'm single. He's funny, I like to think I'm funny.  He'd be about 36ish I think, I'm 34 - practically the perfect age gap.  He's of Irish decent, I'm of Italian - they both start with I. He works in TV, I love watching TV.  He has Instagram, I have Instagram.  Do you see how similar we are! It's mind blowing huh?

Sam Mac, I think we should meet.  You'll never read this, and if you do you'll see how right this is, also understand this post is completely in jest, but regardless, call me.

Where did you come from where did you go, where did you come from Cotton Eye Joe aka Bachelor No. 7

Cotton Eye Joe, or more accurately Cotton Eye Rob. Farmer Rob, Robert, The Dude from Laidley, Mr Lettuce, Bachelor Number 7...whatever you want to call him, I have discovered I am not country compatible. Farmer Wants A Wife has a lot of explaining to do. I blame them for selling the dream of a nice, wholesome country lad being the ideal partner. I blame them for broadcasting the lie that city meets country can work. Well let me tell you, they don't. Full stop. Exclamation mark. Sorry to kill your buzz ladies. I hold no remorse towards the producers of said show but you need to know that when the two worlds collide it's not in a hot passionate way. We are not compatible. It's best you know this now so you don't fall into the trap of also believing it could work.

After the disappointment dating in Brisbane brought, because after 6 dates I can now call myself a connoisseur of the dating world and can base the total dating talent of Brisbane on the sample I met. Well that's how the law of averages works doesn't it? I slept through most of high school math class and wow that was a bit of a detour there, sorry back to the  story. Needless to say I held little hope for the foray back into Toowoomba's single men. However, one night I was bored (and to be honest passing time on the loo, don't go ewww and start judging because I know you do it too, some of you weirdos even take phone calls on the crapper and that is a genuine reason to let the ewwwws flow - you're gross FYI) so I started my Tinder account back up. Swiping left left left x 50 more (and if you remember left is the fugly/weirdo/probably still breastfed side) Rob came up. He looked normal, he didn't have a bio which should be sign number one that he didn't have any interests however after 50 lefts the standards drop significantly.  

He had a kind face and honest eyes, he looked cuddly and pretty tame.  And from what we all know from my previous posts, I have excellent skills in judging people *cough lie*. It was clear he was from the land as his one and only profile picture was him in a tractor - one picture, Jesus Ange you know that one picture is a bad sign have you learnt nothing?!

Chit chat was back and forth for about a week before we caught up for a drink to see if we got along in person. He'd started with the 'hello beautiful' shit that I hate. Dude you haven't seen me in person yet, it's not cute or attractive to come out with the compliments that soon, it's creepy. He was happy to come up to the 'big smoke' because let's face it there aren't many options in Laidley, however because I felt bad for him to drive up to me I suggested what I though was half way the Plainlands Hotel. Probably should have consulted a map before the suggestion as it was much closer for him to go there than I. 

Before I set off to meet Farmer Rob he asked me to send a picture so he knew who he was meeting - must have had his eyes closed when swiping, or he was hoping for a nudie pick because that's the calibre of men out there these days. I declined to fulfil his request and said he had one already, I also told him to bring a bunch of carrots so I'd recognise him - I don't think he appreciated my suggestion. I thought it was hilarious.

We both arrived at the same time, he got out of his ute and I expected to see a big burly guy...he was not. He was slightly shorter than me. It was yet another confirmation that pictures, or more like picture, are deceiving. Funny how you can form an image on height from a picture, it makes sense now why so many men have their height on the profiles, it must be a common question.  Anyway, we had a beer and a chat and whilst conversation was easy we really didn't have a lot in common. He didn't enjoy experiencing new foods, didn't own a tv (mic drop I know - who doesn't have a tv!!! ludicrous) and not a fan of leaving the farm. Three of my most favourite things to do is eat, binge watch tv and explore new places...mainly with the intention of eating all the food.

We talked about our families and covered off on our occupations and that was really all that we had to talk about. After our interests didn't align there wasn't a whole lot left to keep the conversation going for much longer so I made an excuse to have to head home. He walked me to my car and we hugged goodbye but he hung around awkwardly for what I anticipated was an after beer smooch. It was well awkward because firstly dear men read the situation and the body language before it becomes awkward. If there was no flirting, or closeness and the girl is standing more than a metre away from you at the time of goodbye it's not going to happen. Don't force it because you want a bit of lip action. He went in for the pash, I offered a sympathy closed lip peck. Akward AF.

I drove the 45 minutes home (why the eff did I suggest that pub) and Farmer Rob had messaged to see if I got home safely and if I wanted to see him again. Thanks for the check up Rob and cutting straight to the point there champ. Because I'm not very good at saying no I agreed to one more date just incase I missed something the first time - he wasn't an axe murderer after all. We scheduled dinner later in the week - he'd come up the hill this time, thank god.

Que Friday evening, 7pm, dinner. We went to the pub next door to my home, given the outing to a venue better than the first one, to be honest I expected a little effort other than dirty old farm jeans, faded polo and sweat stained cap. I sound like a bitch with that but am wrong? A date implies effort, at least ditch the cap and wear a collared shirt. I even washed my hair mate, come on. Anyway, we ordered and I paid for both of us, which for me I insist on if my lack of attraction is confirmed then I don't feel bad for not seeing him again - fucked up I know.

We chatted whilst we waited for dinner and conversation always went back to his work, either his crop growing or the weather and how that affects his crop. I guess the lack of common interests was even more evident right about now, well I thought so anyway. Anyway the night came to an end and he walked me back to mine, pretty much invited himself in and then tried to get it on again. Me declining his advances apparently makes me weird (his words) - go figure - dude I've just met you, we have zero in common apart from the fact we both breathe the same air and you expect my pants come flying off?? 

To shut this down really quickly I explained I had stomach pains from eating garlic bread - gluten intolerance - so he'd leave. IBS I figured would be a real mood killer and send the lad back down the hill. It worked. No message when he got home so the next morning I sent a polite lovely meeting you text but I feel we don't have a lot in common and wished him all the best in his search for a lady. No acknowledgment of received text but I thought I'd been an adult about it all, somewhat anyway.

So that's me done with the country thing. I love the music, don't so much care for the clothes to be honest, and I'm not really keen on farm life so Farmer Wants A Wife has come to its season close. Final episode done and dusted, the Farmer is still single and the city slicking Lass is also. Onwards and upwards. Hello to the old delete account section of Tinder. Sayonara Tinder, it's been fun (not), I'll miss you (not), see you in the future (not).  Maybe next time I should try and meet someone the old fashioned way aka getting drunk at a pub, it used to have a better strike rate and many of my friends have met their husbands that way!

Catch up time! Bachelor No.6 Deano

Hello friends, sorry it's been a while between drinks. I've been busy, sorry I lie, I've been a bit lacklustre of late and the writing mood has not struck me to be honest.  However, onwards and upwards!  I have a little bit to fill you in on and as we are such old friends it won't feel awkward catching up, it'll be as if no time has passed at all.

Before we start, coffee or wine? What's your poison? I'm going to pour a red, go on, have one too and we can begin.  Where to start? I suppose the obvious topic would be Pug Boy.   Well, what a drain that was in the end!  All was going quite well for a couple of weeks as we discovered how much we had in common and kept UberEATS in business all over Brisbane.  However there was one topic which we could not agree on and frustration on my part grew on how one side and short sighted he could be. His stubborn almost chauvinistic attitude was aggravating me more and more.  I like a confident man but when confidence becomes arrogance I am hugely turned off.  It became evident that he preferred a woman that didn't have an opinion and wouldn't challenge him on anything, and that is not me anymore.   

After things fizzled out with Pug Boy I resigned myself to the fact I am a terrible judge of character - when it comes to men anyway, and that actively searching for a partner was not getting me anywhere positive so I deleted all the dating apps.  Well almost....I did catch up with one more man before kissing Brisbane goodbye.  

His name was Dean, 38 (bit older thought he'd be wiser - I forever live in hope), cute profile pics and he had a funny bio to match.  We settled on a Saturday afternoon beverage at my local fave, The Defiant Duck. First impression - he didn't look much like his profile pics at all - superficial I know but online dating is, let's face it the first attraction is appearance.  If someone has a face like a foot combined with a dropped apple pie you wouldn't want to be seen in public with them so what's the point.  He 100% nailed the angles he took his pictures with as in the photo he looked like the Hulk, in reality more like the Hobbit - insert sad face.  Because I'm a nice person (although from the previous comment it appears I need to work more on that), I persisted with the date.  With the assistance of jugs of sangria and good tv viewing in the pub five hours later we said good night.  Bless the guy, despite the fickle conversation and the heavy reliance on alcohol the guy still tried to get one away but I was as closed to the advances as a pub on Good Friday.  

Some reflection Sunday morning when I surprisingly woke up hangover free, I decided to give up this online dating thing.  It was way too difficult and I didn't have the budget to keep myself in sangria if I had to go on another bad date.  I lied to myself saying what everyone else in a loved up relationship has said to me since I was in my late 20's - "it'll happen when it happens Ange and when you least expect it" *cough bullshit*.

My last few weeks in Brisbane were spent dateless but they were fantastic.  I had quickly succumbed to riverside life - it agreed with me in more ways than one.  I had found contentment that I had not found before.  I realised for the first time that there is more to life than working, I had found that illusive work/life balance I'd read articles about. I discovered I am truly at my most happiest beside water and it reinforced yet again I have an obsession with all things food.  

With the move back to Toowoomba to recommence my previous role, my next challenge is to find a way to integrate these realisations back into my life when normality and old routines become the centre of life again.  A huge challenge which I'm not sure I will succeed at.  I have a tendency to become reclusive when I am in my comfortable environment, but I have written goals for this year and fingers crossed I have the balls to get comfortable with the uncomfortable, whether that be new experiences or checking out what's changed in the local Toowoomba male talent (I suspect not much!).  Sorry if this post isn't filled with such hilarity as previous ones but I'm a big believer in honesty, not every day is sunshine and rainbows as some blogs or Instagram posts make out.  My blog will show all aspects of my life - most of the time it's upbeat and quirky like my sense of humour but sometimes it's also going to be a little low key. I wouldn't want to lie to you, it wouldn't be fair.  Until next time my friends, ciao!

Is It A Bird, Is It A Plane? No, It's Pug Boy! (aka Bachelor Number 5)

Let me preface this by stating that Pug Boy and I are still talking, so whilst I will let you all be privy to information on what happened with Bachelor Number 5, I can't be too harsh on the kid for fear he may read this at some stage and then we would not be talking. Should that happen, I can tell you a lot more and it would make for fantastic reading.  For now, I still like this guy so you only get the basics, sorry kids!

It is very rare that I meet a man with whom I actually have a connection with.  My job has trained me to be able to hold a conversation with a fence post if required, therefore finding out I have genuine interests in common is not a regular occurence - well unless it's about food, that happens on a daily basis and with complete strangers, usually in supermarkets, cafes, at the Post Office, you get the picture.

I mentioned in my previous post that I begrudgingly went on a date with Pug Boy.  I had earlier in the week met Brad for a drink and in an effort to try and not keep all my eggs in the one basket, when Pug Boy asked me out for a drink I said yes. Well actually I bailed on the first date due to "work"  (I told a white lie, I just couldn't be arsed putting pants on that evening after a long day, as you can tell I have become quite lazy in my old age), anyway I got sidetracked for a minute there sorry, so we rescheduled for the end of the week.

After a few cheeky texts during the week, mostly about if I was sitting on my couch in my underwear watching Netflix, I was a little more keen to meet this funny chap. Before you go thinking that's a bit forward to be asking about my underwear considering we hadn't met yet, it was entirely my fault.  I made the fatal error of giving an honest answer to what I was doing one night - I should have anticipated the conversation would not shift much passed my underwear after that. Rookie error number 5002, well done Ange!  From first impressions I did like his sense of humour, it was on par with my own so I knew the banter in person would be there.

His suggestion for a sneaky Friday evening beverage was Byblos at Portside Wharf - classy, great choice Pug Boy, I approve, this is right up my alley.  His reasoning for the location choice was because it was closer to my side of town and therefore easier for me - this shows thoughtfulness and consideration, a rarity for me compared to the selfish wankers I've dated before (are you sensing a common trait of my past boyfriends?).

By the time Friday rolled around I'd had a hectic day at the office, was running late due to staying over my shift end time and only left myself enough time for a quick shower, trowel on more make up over the top of the work make up, spray dry shampoo in the old mop of a hair do and catch an UBER to the bar. I made it with only being a couple of minutes late. 

I sent him a text to let him know that I didn't have my glasses on so the likelihood of me recognising him, even if squinting, was slim to none. Therefore, should he see a blonde girl in a green dress looking lost and with the chance she may have special needs from the squinting it's probably me and to come help a sister out. He replied that he'd just arrived  also and was waiting for a waitress to seat him because he reserved a table inside as it looked like it was going to rain and he didn't want me to get wet if they were full and we had to brave outside *sigh* bless you Pug Boy, now I'm well impressed! I approached the entrance to the bar and there was a pretty fit looking guy with his back to me talking to a staff member, then he turned around.  

I shit you not (sorry about the swear word but it has stronger dramatic effect than substituting it for kid), in my head it was like a scene from a movie when the picture goes all slow motion and mood setting music starts playing. I could feel the look of pure terror and nerves bordering on a potential small vomit disappear from my face.  A smile crossed over his, I hoped he thought "thank eff she doesn't look too much different to her profile pictures", it was either that or he'd let out a small satisfying fart. The little devil on the left side of my brain said "damn this guy is fiiiinnnnnnnneeeeee and way out of your league sweetheart, turn around and go home".  He had a very well ironed crisp white shirt on (my Mum would be extremely impressed by his use of Napisan and skills with an iron), nice blue dress pants and brown shoes.  Polite cheek kiss/hug for a hello and his cologne made me want to lick his face - bit forward for a first date so I restrained myself, I'm not a weirdo after all.

Seats were taken and drinks ordered. I was contemplating how to sit comfortably in a squishy lounge with a stupid dress on which prevents you from crossing your legs at the knee because it makes your slightly voluptuous thighs look like sausages bursting out of their casing. It's freaking impossible to sit comfortably and give the impression of being nonchalant and well kept, a task which is impossible for me at the best of times. 

For the next two and a bit hours, whilst more wine was consumed on my part, the conversation between us was very easy and not at all forced.  I was very surprised we had so much in common. Whist this guy was very city looking, well spoken, and smelt like the cologne counter at Myer, I was convinced I was punching above my weight and this honest country girl wouldn't make it in the big smoke with guys like this.

What followed were random conversational topics and some people watching combined with making up our own version of what was happening with groups and other couples - first date, second date, married and obviously haven't spoken to each other for years and the like - both our stomachs required food. With a shared love of UberEats, Netflix and not leaving the couch, he paid for drinks and we went back to mine to do exactly that.  And get your minds out of the gutter, there was no chill in that "Netflix and Chill" - I am a lady. There wasn't much Netflix either, between talking and stuffing our face on the pizza and chips the movie was just background noise.

1am came around and Pug Boy went back into the world and home to his beloved Pug.  After a long day, superb evening and wayyyyyy to much Pinot Gris, I was happy and hopeful for the first time in years. Finally I'd met someone with common interests who appeared to not be a freak. I looked forward to a potential date number two with this lad, my fingers and toes were crossed. Cue drooling into my pillow and much needed z's.  Until next time Pug Boy, it had been surreal and nice.

Recall the search party I'm back with Bachelor Number 4: Brad aka Mr Cute But 38 And Living With Flatmates

Sorry to everyone who has been waiting with baited breath for my next update on the Brisvegas dating cesspool, I wish I had a really fabulous reason as to why I have been missing in action. I've been cruising the mediterranean with Henry Cavill (aka Superman), working with orphans in Uganda, trekking the Himalayas to save an endangered mountain goat....yeah, no, I've been lazy, annoyed with men and inspirationally frustrated.

After my last post I have been on three dates but to be honest, I couldn't be arsed to write about them.  I was left feeling deflated and disappointed.  Two out of three dates were relatively the same, sigh. Three in quick succession actually - two in one week, hussy I know, but they weren't below the waist dates so hussy is in check!  One had a flicker of hope, there was attraction and sass but I'll get to him. He could be worthy of a couple of posts actually, stay tuned for when Pug Boy makes an appearance.

With that in mind, let's start with Bachelor Number 4: Brad aka Mr Cute But 38 And Living With Flatmates.

Brad and I connected on two online dating apps over a period of time, both Tinder & Plenty Of Fish, so I guess the initial I think you don't look like a serial killer aka superficial attraction was there. Tinder was first but neither of us spoke - cause that's how we roll on Tinder, you just swipe right until someone wants to get drunk with you and try to get in your knickers.  Second was on Plenty Of Fish, or POF to we fishing fiends.  This time we actually exchanged sentences. Insert clapping here.

Brad was a 10/10 for texting - one for a friendly good morning, lunch time a polite how  is your day going and a good night for the close.  Well done Brad!  Plus kudos also goes to the gent for making the first move and locking down a meet-up within days.

We met half way between his world and mine - he's from the South, I'm from the North.  In Game of Thrones terms we are a Lannister and a Snow so I guess our fate was sealed. Of course I'm the Snow in the situation, everyone likes a Snow and we Northerner's aren't weirdo's.  Carindale Hotel was the meeting point for a cleansing ale and a chat.  One Peroni in and boy could this guy talk!  Even over the top of me - blood top effort mate. 

The usual 'let's talk about how crap dating is in your 30's' was out of the way pretty quick, plus he divulged he's been married before.  Went on to say she left him for a rich older man - move on Brad. How superficial girls are these day - *cough* there's a girl sitting opposite you champ and i'm not superficial (well much anyway). And how they just use men to pay for meals and the drinks - ummmm Brad I just bought that round, you're welcome. 

All in all, conversation flowed pretty easy, he was not unpleasant to the eye and had showered so that was pretty good - as you can tell standards on my part are starting to wane.  If they shower and have their own teeth we are on to a winner!

He had plans later that night - or so he said, so after a polite hour and a half of chat we called it a night. He text me after ten minutes to make sure I got to my car, how polite, and I commenced the thirty minute drive home to the right side of the city.  Just as I got home another tweet on my phone went off - his plans bailed on him and suddenly am I up for a movie at his?  Keep your thoughts pure peeps, nothing unsavoury happened whilst movie watching.

This is when I found out he had two nosey flatmates - who is 38 and has flatmates? I guess when you're divorced and she takes half times get tough. The instructions for the mission were to turn my lights off when approaching the house, leave my shoes at the front door and sneak up the stairs so they wouldn't hear me enter the house to commence the interrogation of who I was.  

I was proceeding to the route according to the posh English bird on my GPS, my lights were off and I parked with the softest touch of my brakes.  I sent a message to Brad that I was here sent. Brad came out to the car to divulge part two of the mission. I stuffed my car keys in my jeans pocket so they didn't rattle and my phone was on silent.  Brad cradled my Maccas (I hadn't had tea yet and the Asahi's were kicking in), and we crept up the stairs in proper stealth mode - mission accomplished! Should have been a bloody Commando or Navy Seal it was that good I tell you.

Movie watched, Maccas inhaled, he had KFC - and the way he ate that greasy chicken offered both hope for the future yet was equally disgusting at the same time. Date was officially over after the credits rolled - no smoochy smooch but a hug and that's it folks.  He still smelt fresh as a daisy too. He made sure I got home with another polite text - awwwww.  Anyway, two days later I had a begrudging date with Pug Boy, because at the time I thought I better keep my options open just incase. And then things get a little more interesting.