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!
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