"Sometimes... when you hold out for everything, you walk away with nothing" ~ Ally McBeal

Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and Arial were my childhood companions. I cherished the moments I spent with them; long hours of listening and learning from those idyllic women who comforted and lulled me off to sleep with their melodic voices. I adored them as only a rosy-cheeked child, devoid of the taints of the world, could. Yet… I sit now and think how much have we been affected by these fairytales? Not from the idea of magic, beasts and fairies but because of the inept ability to prepare us for the real world.

Prince Eric and Hercules

Every girl dreams of her ‘Prince Charming’, whether he be fair of face, strong of body or sharp of mind, we all search for that ‘perfect’ man. But the question I ask is, are we setting ourselves up for disappointment? I am not saying not to have high expectations, this is a must, but whether having that eternal soul mate objective leads more to a disheartened princess ever waiting for her knight to save her from her distinctive peril.

I bring this up as lately I have found several princes… in parts. One was kind, the other considerate, there was a good-looking royal, a crowned monarch with a taste for laughter and spontaneity and then there was the king of brains. BUT none of these were found in one specific male. Prince Kind was idiotic, Prince Handsome was arrogant and conceited, Prince Fun was unreliable and Prince Wise was far from fare.

Of course Hollywood and Disney groom their male leads to the point of glisteningly perfection. Model ready for that pedestal that we place so many unobtainable heartthrobs on. Without meaning to though, we carry that need for perfection through to our every day male desires. Only to come up disappointed by what we cant find.

I have very few friends that are happily married with their one true love and many whom have settled because the longevity of the relationship became comfort, comfort became normality and normality became stability for them. Are they happy? I think content (dare I say bored) may be a better way of describing them. A few years ago I turned my nose up at this approach to relationships but now I question it as possibly better choice.

Does holding out for the man of our dreams mean we risk becoming the old cat lady on the 6^th floor with only our own regrets to keep us company on the cold winter nights? The alternative would be Samantha from Sex in the city, successful and never shy of a partner on those chilly evenings. Neither one appeals to me very much but it does make me question whether the pursuit for perfection is undoubtedly the quest for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And idea. A fairytale. One with which we toy with, but one that never really solidifies.

All those boxes that we look to be ticked by the ideal male will never be filled. Whether he is the ultimate sports god, so good looking a mirror melts or is the next Einstein, there will be something wrong with him. Finding a good looking guy who is sensitive, caring, considerate, mucho, athletic, intelligent, great in the sack and puts you first is, lets be honest, just not going to happen. So… what means more to you in a partner? If he wakes you up every morning with your favourite tea and rubs your aching feet every night but is a terrible lover with appalling dress sense and health habits that even pigs would raise their eyes at, will he do? Or what about a guy who treats you well and that spoils you rotten but has no career and has a knack for always getting into trouble when he goes out? I guess it comes down to what are you willing to compromise on. Mr. Average or Mr. Good at some things but terrible at others.  Do we run the risk of never finding Mr. Right and settling for Mr. You’ll do? I’ll let you know… 

It Doesn't Just Happen In the Movies

You sigh a deep breath of relief as you close your door after your initial date with that special or not so fabulous someone. First date jitters conquered, relatively unscathed and stomach muscles slightly tender after recounting the antics of several of the less then chivalrous partners that roam the single club of Sydney! (See previous post)

So we finally get to the moment/day/week when you invite them over. It's almost just as stressful and nerve racking as the first date, as there is more onus on you now to impress whereas the first date can be more weighted towards the male, depending on the man in question.

You furiously flick through all the things to cater for. House tidy, legs shaved, bedroom clean, toenails painted (let's be honest who walks around with shoes on in their own home), cue scrabble for pronto pedicure, checking of hair, makeup and breath, matching underwear just in case (running around looking for that one set of knickers that makes your ass pop) and whether to light candles or just play atmospheric music in the background. 

From my perspective I have learned to worry, not about whether he likes my ‘feng shui’ placement of my furniture, but whether he may feel inclined to help himself to my bathroom toiletries or start getting undressed randomly! Here is where my fear originates…

Fledgling relationship, several dates and mainly day activities, we had both become fairly comfortable with each other, so I invited him over one Sunday to watch movies. Still gut- wrenchingly nerve wracking if you like the person! Midway through, he goes to the bathroom. For an extremely long time! I clocked it at about 30 minutes or so. I start to imagine ‘Along came Polly’ or ‘Dumb and Dumber’ toilet antics, as I hesitantly walk down the hallway and then turn back. I decide to risk it and quietly pad towards the bathroom. I hear the shower running and turn around. I don’t have the guts to knock on the door and ask him if everything is all right. After this embarrassingly long time, the guy emerges, freshly showered, with a cheeky grin on his face. I try to hide my anxiety and slightly perturbed emotions as I ask if he is well. He sits down and proceeds to tell me that he had gotten the urge to shower and use MY razor to "trim" himself down there. His words were, "By trim I mean, bald eagle baby!"  I was absolutely flabbergasted! I queried him as to why he had suddenly got the itch that needed to be scratched right then and there (halfway through a movie remember)! He replies, “No reason, never done it before and thought it would be fun!” I actually think my jaw may have fallen to the floor at this point! He left shortly afterwards as I think he may have correctly read my absolute horror stricken visage! Give him his due though; there wasn't a trace of evidence in my shower. I disposed of the razor and had a chuckle to myself as that boy was in for a few days of torture after his impulsive act. As any male knows, if you shave that area it itches like hell for about a week! That will teach him a lesson! 

Another was technically not a first time invitee but this story is so humorous I had to throw it in here. We had been dating for about a month, it was very laid back and we hung out more often then getting actually physical. We didn't have, what you would call, a very affectionate relationship. No cuddling on the couch or holding hands, neither of us was overtly touchy-feely with the other. A night of good television and dinner was planned on a frosty winters evening, blankets mounted on all sides and 3/4 of the way through the film, nothing was done or said to give me any indication of what was about to come out of his mouth! He turns to me and says, "I've unzipped my pants, how's about a blowie?" Sorry what?????? I am sorry, but no male in his right mind has got to think that works? Really?! I'm not going to elaborate on the profanities that came out of my mouth but let me tell you that 'gentleman' scrabbled so quickly out of my house he left his wallet and one shoe behind. To not sound like a prude, I'm all up for a bit of fun, but prep the engine before going full throttle into a risky maneuver! 

Lastly, my all time favourite, which had me and my girlfriends rolling, literally, on the floor for hours! To set the scene: He's American and we had been drinking all day at a festival. We finally made our way home with a bottle of wine to relax and unwind. We had been to his first and to several house parties along the way. We get to mine and he turns to me and tells me he is going to go put his “jammies on”! I thought to myself that I had either heard him wrong or he had made a joke and was just going to change out of his day clothes. I was very very wrong. He came out in his pajamas. Bright red basketball shorts and an almost luminous purple t-shirt. I laughed so hard I couldn't breath, there were actual tears. “First time over at a girls and you put those on”, was roughly what I managed to squeeze out!. That is probably the leading way to kill any potential sexy time! He took it in good stride and was actually more perplexed as to how I didn't love his attire. To this day he is still called jammie boy! 

Not your average contenders to the couch throne of hanging out. I do wonder what goes through their mind when they enter a girl’s door. Entertaining at least and great conversation starters when you are out with the girls. 

Dating Faux Pas

Undeniably there is something almost childlike in the joy and excitement we get when we are about to embark on a night out where it is a First Date. Reminiscent of what Christmas felt like when we were young enough to still believe there was a Santa Clause and leave cookies out on the windowsill for St Nick to feast on, while he left all your childhood dreams under the tree.

Most of us try a million outfits, reapply our make up an infinite number of times, Facebook stalk him to see how hot he really is, reread messages/emails from/to him, alleviate our worry by chatting incessantly to our friends about where you are going, what he’s like and how you think it will go. And then there are some of us that feel actually nauseous just before we walk into the place of rendezvous.

 

I’m no stranger to first dates, but recently I’ve been both amazed and appalled at just how far away men have strayed from what used to be the standard courtesies of a date. Chivalry isn’t dead; it is just not common practice in Sydney, if these dates are anything to go by. So if you’re looking to avoid getting a second date, here’s some tips from Sydney Singleton’s diary.

Date Number One:  Pukey Pokie Boy

It never ceases to amaze me when good-looking boys assume that their faces will excuse what emits from their mouths. In this case, a very well dressed lad with an impressive job and looks that almost made me lightheaded told me over dinner how he vomits in pokie machines when he’s drunk. And showed me what he looks like doing it. Needless to say, I didn’t find that very enticing.

Date Number Two: Smoothie Pass, Tight Ass

I had set up a first date with a boy who seemed promising. Having had a very active night previously, I had already consumed two coffees and was feeling slightly under the weather. We had agreed to get a Boost smoothie and sit on the beach. When we meet, he informs me that his funds were in an online account and his access pin/card was in the Blue Mountains and he only had $10 to his name. So we had to get a small coffee instead. Nothing says ‘I’m a good catch’ like being penniless and unreliable. Reschedule rather, than arrive with moths in your wallet!

Date Number Three: Wet Fish Wonder

They say the way to a woman’s heart is through diamonds. I don’t disagree with this statement but I do think it starts with something a little simpler then that! A kiss. If you kiss like a wet fish that has soggy sponges for lips, then that’s pretty much a deal breaker.

Date Number Four: Bromance Bruce

Certain careers allow for limited extra curriculum activities if you’re a boy who is based on a work site with a bunch of lads, I can imagine your day gets a bit tedious. However, it’s a little bit like prison – what’s acceptable in one environment doesn’t translate into another. Don’t go on about your drunken mate Bruce who apparently “Gets naked and does that dance when he jiggles his thingy around…. That helicopter dance thing!” all night. Firstly, you look like an idiot in front of girl who doesn’t give two hoots about your drunken court jester of a mate. Secondly, it demonstrates that, at the age of 34, you find these kinds of Adam Sandler-ish antics amusing.

Date Number Five: Dinner Date Deluxe

I don’t know about you, but if a lady is asked out to dinner by the opposite sex, for the first time, it is fairly well assumed that the man will pay. Feminists may disagree, but I don’t believe this is about gender roles, but more a show that the gentleman in question wants to treat the lady, rather than assuming she can’t afford to pay. I am not condemning men who don’t offer this courtesy but for me, this is something I think is just the mark of a gentleman. On this particular occasion, we went to a nondescript Italian restaurant and shared two main meals over one glass of wine each. I am not talking Jamie Oliver’s fine dining experience, just a pizza and a drink. When the bill arrived I offered whether he would like me to contribute at all, I always do, as it is polite (and it’s a good test). I was quite surprised when his reply was, “Yes you can contribute.” I immediately thought maybe I had misread the intelligent, witty conversation and laughter we had shared. Maybe this was more of a friendly catch-up. Or it was a date that had gone so wrong that the guy in question balked at even buying me a pizza. I consented without even a hint of this concern and we left. I continued to chat amicably through our 10 minute walk through the city and was nearly knocked off my feet with the lines, ‘Can I entice you to a night cap?” I literally was shocked to a stand still.  I politely declined and made for the nearest train station. I was particularly surprised because the boy in question works in investment banking, had pursued a dinner date for some time and still had the audacity to text me later and say, “I wish you were here in my bed!” The cheek! He later that week text me and asked if I had blocked him from looking at my pics on Facebook (Which I hadn’t). Sometimes, the little slip-ups are clues to larger failings!

Date Number Six: My Valentines Boy

Although my actual Valentines night wasn’t spent with this young man, he did however pull it out of the bag with a rose and a present dropped at my house and then a fabulous Argentinian dinner on Thursday. He picked me up in a cab, ordered all the things he knew I liked and conversation was both amusing and gentlemanly. One of the best dates since being in Sydney. So not all of them are bad eggs. 

I read the following about Barack Obama’s first date with Michelle the other day. – “I treated her to the finest ice cream Baskin-Robbins had to offer, our dinner table doubling as the curb. I kissed her, and it tasted like chocolate.”

It doesn’t take fine wine and an exclusive restaurant to show a girl you care. Just fine manors and the foresight to make sure you have enough cash to buy a girl a smoothie. As we progress as a species and develop our capacity to learn and develop intellectually, do we lose the traditions that we once held so true? In an age where social conventions and etiquette continue to recede, it’s a sad state of affairs that so few standards remain when it comes to being a gentleman in the dating world.