To Try

I'm very much over having to try at love. I have been trying for more than a decade and there's not much to show for it. I selfishly want to be adored, want someone to crush on me and I want it to be easy, I want that person, to be someone I want. Which of course is the dream we all have right? Sure, but everyone's dated, everyone's had a relationship of some note that says, I returned feelings of equal value to another, be that lust, like or love. Well, not me. I'm an expert at being single and not just between boyfriends but seriously single, years have gone by.

The problem is I function well on my own. I'm pretty self-reliant and I often wonder does that cause me to be an island? Have I marooned myself intentionally? I don't honestly think so. And what frustrates me, is that I can't explain it. I really can't, in all this world of varied people and interests and types, how I can't find one person that is keen on me and vice versa. Of course, I've longed for the unavailable, I've longed from afar, I've longed as a friend in silence and I've let the crush know my longing but all to no avail. And yes, I've tried all types (of people that I'm interested in) from nerdy boy next door types to studly sporty types and all in between, I've been keen on all those types and still nothing. I've RSVP'ed, I've speed dated, I've been achingly single, I've had fun in bars, I've been serious and persued it properly, and still I end back at the same place.

So basically, I'm tired of it all. I'm exhausted and tired of trying to be liked, tired of trying to convince myself that this treadmill existence of seeking a love life is going to change it. That by asking questions, seeking dates and hoping, that like some rom-com scenario, after years in the dating wilderness, I'll be rescued, because it's not happening. No matter how many people say be patient, no matter how kind words of one day soon, I'm the same alone single girl.

The Power of Suggestion

I hate photos at the moment. I don't mind taking them, I don't mind the moment when they're being taken if I'm in them but invariably when I see myself in the finished product I feel repulsed. And sure, repulsion is a strong word to use but there doesn't seem to be anything that matches the way I feel. As a woman, it only takes one guess why I would feel this way - of course my weight. It's plagued me for years, my ultimate enemy. And the problem is I am neither fat nor thin. Just the chubby in between, which can now be viewed as a skinny girl eating too much and exercising too little.
The reason I hate photos is because they serve as the ultimate reminder. That no how pretty you felt at the time, how attractive and desirable you saw yourself, the photo is the actual evidence of what really happened. Courts accept photograph evidence and not emotional testimony and so goes my self. And what's terrible is we live in a world where everyone has a camera - phone cameras, digital pocket size cameras, so there's a chance you'll always look good, or always look bad. You'll be condemned to that one image.
I guess this feeling comes from a few recent outtings. It comes from not really feeling happy in my body and having no experience of anyone cherishing my body (which sounds completely Mills & Boon.) But seriously, in the intimacy stakes, the actual moment of being seen and feeling either adored, or desired, or wanted has never happened for me. It absolutely moritifies me that someone would have to see me naked, I just don't believe anyone could find what lies beneath cleverly drapped clothes attractive. And I feel so ultimately rejected, by my own making, and so of course that starts the self hatred.

*** *** ***

There's nothing worse and nothing better than when people suggest things to you. It can completely lead you down the wrong road or show the best way forward. The problem with the power of suggestion is that, it gives false hope. Because it's completely the suggestors interpretation of the situation. It has little basis in reality and little actual fact on which to base. Well I guess that's my specfic case. And right now, writing this here, this way, I take a gamble. Because the people involved are good people, are wonderful people but it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to read between the lines and figure out who is who, and of course, then comes the stilted afterward conversation and the weird tension and the not a romantic-comedy ending of oddness. I don't want that ending, that's why the suggestions themselves were so dangerous. Because before that, they were unspoken, of course it was there, but they were unspoken and it was easy, well easier, to pretend it didn't exist, that that reality just wasn't there. Now though, it's been outted and of course, the other choice was taken. And really, I'm being dramatic I know, but God, just once, just for one time, I wish someone would maybe, hesitate and chose me. Why can't it be that simple, why can't it be a God DAMN romantic comedy in which the scales fall from their eyes and say of course I will choose her, because all this time it's been what I secretly wanted. It doesn't happen that way though and it didn't. The choice was made and it wasn't me and my speciality, as the friend continues. I win the award for most chosen friend, most easiest girl not to develop any feelings for. Most friend.

The Game

It's become a game, and it's not fun so much as damn determination. It's like my addiction to Spider Solitaire, a thing to check off, a function to perform but with no real consequence to it. Yes, it's that whole RSVP thing, that I continue to hear phantom, myth like stories of romance evolving from it. Weddings, soul mates, live in lovers - these are apparently springing from RSVP at a rapid rate. Well, I've yet to see any results...at all. Anyone I'm remotely interested in is clearly being bombarded by single women everywhere and not available or the only people who seem in interested in me are people who have I nothing in common with, and no chance of a relationship. I've tried letting them to come to me, I've tried going after them and being proactive and it's been a no win situation either way. And what's worse is that there are a few guys I would honestly like to meet, they sound normal and nice and keen to laugh. All the very easy qualities I'm looking for, but due to the meat market scenario that RSVP seems to be, I can't find.

The profile is a very hard thing to write for instance - how do you make yourself seem entertaining, completely desirable, wildly charasmatic and still be single, trying online dating and still come out sounding cool? Everyone is reading the latest book - boys check for Shantaram, girls check Eat, Pray, Love. Everyone is apparently getting at least three gym sessions in per week - how is there an obesity crisis? Everyone is keen to travel and explore the world - bosses should expect mass resignations? Everyone is looking for that someone special - it's a massive game of Snap? When I first started, I was nervous, with a big dollop of shame and an underlying hope of being that story your friends tell you about, the girl who found an amazing boyfriend and is contently pursuing her fantastic relationship. Now, I'm bored. I check for possible matches, save my favourites and send a 'kiss' to guys I could possibly want to meet. And nothing, besides my disastrous date of 'music is good', nothing, no one seems to be interested.

*** *** ***

I haven't been honest, or at least completely. My last entry, way back in May, I discussed the first terrible date I'd had with iBoy. And before, you get extremely excited, no, we haven't been secretly dating, and now I'm ready to reveal my true love. Hardly.

No, I wasn't completely, lay it on the line honest and that's sort of the mission statement of this here little blog. To lay the dating dramas, or lack thereof completely out there, however humilating they may be. And why wasn't I honest you say? Well, the story became a story - if you follow. It became a comedy routine, with the appropriate build up and wait for laughter. It became a defense and how crazy am I story, when fact, the silence from the bad comment wasn't that long, and my swearing was probably not noticeable. But it's far easier to have funny story, a comedy routine than admit that he didn't like me. And not because I was silly or nervous and blew it, that's an easier story to to tell, no he just plain didn't like me. And that's really hard to face. To accept that some one spent an evening with you and decided without a real idea of who you are, that they didn't want to spend any more time getting know you. It's a harsh reality to face and it was easier to turn it into a romantic comedy, and get a laugh than face it. Because then it haunts you, what if there are parts of your firmly entrenched personality that people just don't like, and there's nothing you can do to change that. How do you date honestly and without fear from that point on?

Getting Out There

It was a bad date. And for the first time, possibly ever, it was me. Not that I'm some dating wizard, this we know, but I'm pretty good at early conversation, small talk and making general chit chat. But this was different, something didn't gell and it was all my fault. I tried too hard, or not enough, I'm not sure. I will call him iBoy, and iBoy and I don't know each other - at all. Guess where we met? Yep, RSVP. And he was actually the first person, I've ever seen on that site that I've thought this might have potential. And the potential carried through emails, and phone calls. There was chat, there was a jokey banter to it. It seemed to work. He suggested a drink, I answered yes. I was nervous yet not. I told no one. I had stupid daydreams of possible further dates. I thought forward. The date itself: well, the conversation moved, but not flowed. And it was my fault, and what's terrible is I knew it, very quickly. And in the same way that someone can point out your speedy typing and then watch as you stumble over words, as soon as I realised there was problem, it magnified. Moment of shame 1: After his returning from the bathroom, I pointed to his iPod and said I'd been tempted to check out his music selection. His answer was that it was quite varied. What I would have said 'yeah, mine too. I have such eclectic tastes in music, it's amazing how much it can change you mood in one simple song etc' what actually came out was 'Music is good' ...........................{insert sounds of crickets chirping}............
'Yeah' was his reply. Like I was a spastic child out for the evening. The other startling event was, in my mind I swore the whole time, ala Gordon Ramsey. If I were to reenact the scene, every second word from my mouth would be F*** this and C bomb that. And of course, I didn't do that. But as time passed, and no word from iBoy came, my swearing became increased and my mental age lowered. Two weeks later I believe the date involved him and swearing mentally retarted 10 year old.
What's annoying (not sad, make note of that) is that I think we would have clicked. There were common interests, he was the right kind of smart and the right kind of pop culture aware. The slightly black humour was there and in the basics department, he was my kind of nerdy geeky tall boy cute. And the tough part is moving forward now. Not because I've embroidered my bedspread in our initials, but where do I go from here? Because I've now jinxed myself. I am now a bad first date, the mojo isn't there. And unfortunately I have to first date. There's no friend, who I've gotten past the unknown stage with already, ready to declare their interest. I now have to add to the lengthing list of faults, bad first dater!

*** *** ***

The other thing is more difficult and I have no idea how to address it. How are you sure of your feelings for some one? I don't want to start drama but sometimes there are thoughts of something, with someone. And often I wonder is this because I am past that iBoy stage of weirdness and I'm just projecting a loneliness or a need or a sudden want. I have no idea. Would I turn away if he kissed me? Quite probably. Would I want him to kiss? Quite probably. Does he even register me in this way? Most definitely not. Am I romanticising something because there's not else? Quite probably. All I can say for sure, is the thought it is there.

I'm So Sick Of It

I'm sick of the judgement, the self doubt, the desperate efforts to convince myself. I've just had the 'amazing' experience of having someone, in clear, plain, no hold's barred way, tell me exactly what they think of me. And it wasn't nice. And what's worse is, that it was someone I trusted, some one who I thought, no matter what I did, or who I was would always be proud of me, always support me. It wasn't something I was prepared for and it was from someone I wasn't prepared to hear it from. This brutal truth was under the veil of wanting better for me, but something so poisonous, so vile can't be a better - it's not a better I understand. I struggle enough in my own self-belief, to have one of my supporters lay it blatantly on the line, and brutally - it's just broken me a little.

I can't say any more because it still mortifies me, hours later. And here's where a defender would be so handy. Here's where a boyfriend would run to my aid, here's where a word of kindess would see me through, but there's nothing but silence. I need a team, I need someone to be on my side. Some one to understand when silent support serves better. Someone to embrace me, and love me for all that I am. Understand that I struggle, that sure, a few kilos are there but I'm not an obesity statistic. I just need a shoulder, I need a 'you're beautiful, and I love you' - right now, I need a refuge, a salvation, a hand in the darkness. I hate to sound so dependent on some one else, and to have my emotions tied into someone else is dangerous but at times like this, that's what those people are for. A port in a storm. I guess not everyone gets a port.

It's Okay

I think people sometimes confuse my honesty here at Brave with a low self esteem or a weak sense of self, and I kind of want to clear that up. I'm like any normal, average person; sure improvements could be made, but generally I'm pretty happy with the overall package of Brave Girl. I actually think I'd be a pretty okay girlfriend - and there are a few reasons as to why.

1. I'm in no way dependent. In fact, I'm ultra independent. I don't need to know what you had for breakfast, as long as you enjoyed it, that's fine. We don't need to call every single day, all day and talk about every minute detail. That's what a date's for.
2. I have all my teeth. A small detail but somewhat underrated.
3. I have a good sense of humour. Sarcasm is my friend, but I'm very willing to laugh at myself. And I'd have people who would support this.
4. I have a job which I actually enjoy. Which means, a) I won't spunge off you, I'm happy to share the tickets for the movies and b) I've got things to do besides moon over you.
5. Not to toot my own horn, but for the fellas, I've got a pretty impressive rack. And added bonus, I'm not McSlutty girlfriend who feels everyone needs to see them. No, your friends will be impressed but not get a lap dance because my clothing is super revealing.
6. I can and will follow sport. In fact, I can watch an entire cricket match (a test!), I could probably name the current Australian 11, I can name many AFL players and not just the ones who sleep around, and I even can talk motorsport. It's pretty impressive, especially considering I'm not butch.
7. I'm good with new people, I can strike a conversation with almost anyone, so you won't have to have the sappy girlfriend hanging off your arm all night long.
8. I can cook. And not just re-heat.
9. I'm tall but not playing in the WNBA. You won't lose me in the crowd but I'll never be a leaning perch for you.
10. I like nerdy boy shows sometimes. I understand you may need to watch Star Trek, I'll sit down to watch the umpteenth screening of Firefly, and if you need to play on the computer, you go right ahead. I may not be able to debate the importance between the Sith Lord's and Darth Vader but I'll know who you're talking about.

I just feel that sometimes Brave turns into a whinge fest and I wanted it to be clear that I'm not a cat counting, romantic comedy on perm-a-loop watching sad lonely girl who just waits for Prince Charming to march up to the door. Come to the door, but I do have a life too.

*** *** ***

The above lists ties in as well because recently I went to a dinner party where I was the solo single guest. I don't really have a problem with this, they are close friends and nothing's worse than an uncomfortable setup date. After dinner the girls were in the kitchen, and we ended up discussing my love life. My friend turned to me and said 'I just don't get why you're single,' and I thought, oh yes, the usual, thanks for the kind thoughts. She however, repeated herself and was firm 'Brave, I actually don't understand why you're single.' And I was really touched by that, because often I drive myself around in circles, thinking is it me? What is wrong? What can I change? What would make me more appealing? And sure, I have bad habits but sometimes I can be too harsh on myself, and if I know anything, it's that there are a lot of good single people out there. And while saying everyone has a soulmate is trivialising and romanticising something far more complex, I still think that out there, in my vicinity, is someone who will love me. Love me for all that I am, and for everything I hope to be. And of course, that's unbelievablely cliched and over the top, but I still believe it. I don't think I'd be alive if I didn't. And as my mother says, every pot has a lid. I just think my lid is stuck in the back of the drawer.

Moving On

I have to move home soon. It's something I've unfortunately become familiar with over the past few years, just due to unlucky timing with owners reclaiming property. Why this relates to Brave is that every time I move to a new place, I imagine my life being different. Not crazy fantasy, life changing different - I just imagine, this is the house I will live in when I meet someone, and I imagine the first time he comes over to see the house; the relaxed cooking in the kitchen; the getting along with Sibling 3 who I live with; the snuggling on the couch, watching a DVD in very sappy coupley way; laying in bed on Sunday morning. It's terribly romantic comedy movie scenes but I still imagine them, and however cliche ridden it may be, I want that. Every house move is a bit of lemon juice in my wound, of how I haven't had a relationship in this house. It all sounds so awfully over the top but at the end of day, there's something about sharing this tiny, everyday stuff we do with someone. We search for partners because on some basic level we need that specific connection, God knows I do. Moving house at my age also means it's another lease I sign into singledom. I feel like I should have lived with someone by now, or at least had the possessions at my home problem. I want someone's shoes to be at my door, or their jeans on my floor. I want an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, a knowing knock at the door, and somebody to be there, to just fill in the space. How stupid does that sound?

*** ***

It's coming on a year now since I started attempting to be Brave and whilst I've tried a few things, and had some strange brushes with romance, the same hopefulness that I started with is struggling to muster inside me. It's not that I'm depressed about it all, but at this very moment, I've become so tired, so exhuasted about the whole thing. It's a giant mental, what's the point? I haven't had one heart start this year. Not one Man who's challenging me, who's sparked some curisosity and instead of being sad, with tears of desperation, I've moved past that to ambivalance. I really don't see the point in trying, I'm so tired of hearing 'it's coming soons', and telling myself to try new things. I don't want to, I want love to roll up on my door and knock loudly and say, I'm here, sorry it took so long, I got stuck in traffic! And it's bizarre because I'm surrounded by all stages of love that tell me it's worth it, this year especially, I've watched my friends consumed by it, from the early flourish to full blown love, to the frustrations of love with held, to the all consuming pain of knowing the end is near. I've seen all my friends be so brave, be honest and put their hearts out there and actually get love in return. And of course, for some, it hasn't worked out. They've ended the year in a place so different to where they'd hope to be but at the same, if you ask any one of them if they regret it or wished to erase that person from their lives, I can assure you, they'd say no. But it seems, not to be for me, it's seems quietness and soloness is my place. I'd honestly hoped this account of romance would, in some fated way, bring that person into my life. I'd imagined writing searing accounts of the first moments of my first experiences with love, of my crazy ramblings of his attributes, of my first glimpse at heartbreak if that were to happen. I'd hoped and prepared for it all, and to end up in such a similar place is really deflating. I hope the spirit of Brave stays with me, I'm sure in some capacity it will, and I will continue with my very sporadic updates - I've got not much else to do! - but I wonder how long the road is, how far the light, and how do I keep my chin up when apathy is so inviting.

Being Honest..Really

Here's the thing. Just as afraid, and lonely and scared I am of being alone, I am equally so of being with someone.

That's a truly bizarre statement considering my motto of this outlet but it's true. I don't think I would be any good in a possible relationship right now. I am too afraid of everything it would bring my way. I know, I know, it's completely moronic. But I just know at the moment that's exactly where I am. I'm too afraid to really be open to something, because what if it fails? What if I can't open up the 'right' way? What if I, do the classic Sunday Girl thing, and run faster than they catch me? Trust me when I say I'm pretty good at this out run technique and it's only been pure luck that my instincts have been right and that running was the right thing to do. One day, though I'm afraid I'll run from someone I'm not supposed to and then what? It's an endless question that swims in my head at the moment because I don't see a logical way out of this. I mean, of course, the brave thing to do and the obvious thing to do would be not run, and face the music and see what happens. Still, that's so, so, so, so much easier to say than do. It's not like I have had an abundance of opportunity to practice. You know, most people have their past relationship failures to look back on and think 'of course, of course, person X was my bad boy and here's how this relationship helped make me better for the future.' Well, what happens when there is no person X, when there's been no learning curve and time is dramatically slipping away and by the time some one gets to me, it's kind of expected that I'll be okay at this, that as an adult I won't run away. So what's to stop me stupidly running away and the 'right' one, just moving on, because it's all too much trouble? Nothing, and no one but pure luck and if I know anything, luck and my relationship life don't really meet often. Because what sits under this fear is that my stupid expectations of the 'someone' who would understand I'm running, and be able to call me on it. And my fear is that person doesn't exist. No one who can quite figure me out enough to stop me running. Not so brave.

***

And now it's getting a little creepy. While I really hate, hate, hate to say this, Man 1 is actually getting on my nerves. And not at all in a romantic comedy movie where in the next part, I'll realise that in fact, we're meant to be together. Trust me, this isn't heading in that direction. He's actually getting on my nerves in the sense, that he won't leave me alone. And clearly, as nicely but forcefully as I can, I'm trying to send the signals that no, I'm not interested. Other people now notice and it's becoming a bit of joke which is awful because if the reverse were true and I was the butt of such talk, I'd be mortified. Absolutely mortified. Still, he persists.

I actually, the other day, did look objectively at him and of course, we do have a common interest and sure there's stilted conversation over this one, and only one, shared common interest. But that's it! And again, I'm so damn angry and frustrated about it. And half of it's not even his fault, because my anger steams from myself. Why, why can't this be someone I like? And why are you someone that likes me? Because we're not a good match, and if this person thinks we are then what the hell plan am I looking at, because it's obviously wrong!

***

Lastly, I wanted to say thanks to those who've emailed me and been so honest with me. It's an absolute priviledge that you share your feelings with me and I'm so honoured that you read my rants, rambles and in-between crap. That you actually respond to it postively and feel some sort of identification, makes me beyond happy because it means that A) I'm not the only single person out there who is SICK TO DEATH of hearing from so-called 'experts' about how easy love is to find B) that there are people who are still genuine about their feelings and people who actually value the search for love and C) that for every single person, questions linger and if we're all asking the same questions, that maybe one day two people will get the same answer. Here's hoping.

Trying new things

It's been a while. It's been a long while, and guest what? Not much really has changed. Still single, still not particularly happy about it. I do however have to make it absolutely clear that I'm okay. I'm a happy person and I laugh more than normal, and I on a day to day basis really love how my life has turned out. I felt I really need to say that as I didn't want to be this sad, self indulgent girl moaning about her life when in comparison to others, I've more than okay. So universe, please hear that.

It's been an interesting few months though. I had the recent-ish occasion of kissing a friend. It was a very weird situation where alcohol was definitely involved. I know both of us had never considered doing this before (and I'll stop you right now, there will be now romantic comedy love ending here). It's more a situation of drinking and talking and the offer was made, and god it had been a long time since I'd kissed someone. And I actually fooled myself that I wanted it, I was hyped on anticipation. As soon as we began kissing though, I knew it wasn't right. It just didn't feel right, and I immediately felt uncomfortable and wanted to abandon the whole thing. However, like every stupid insecure female, I convinced myself that I'd come this far and continued kissing him for another hour or so. And I hated myself the next day. It wasn't me, and wasn't what I wanted. If I'm going to endure this long winded single-ness then why was I randomly just 'pashing' someone (and I hate that word, but it's really appropriate for what it was). I was however in turmoil for days afterwards. I have spent so long questioning my decisions and questioning why I reject so many men, when here was nice, normal guy that wanted to semi-be with me, so what was my problem? My problem was and is, is that I don't settle. And without sounding like some Beyonce women's empowerment song, I've come too damn far and waited too damn long to have to convince myself about something. I am a firm believer in gut instinct and I know, I know, my gut was against it. So, after a few days of crazy head inducing and completely unrequired mental drama, a few words from some friends sorted me right out. The friend and I, remain friends and thankfully due to distance don't have to endure too many weird encounters. What's life without a weird encounter though.

*** *** ***

So, following on my from misadventures, I more recently decided why not give Speed Dating a go. Virtual dating was proving an absolute bust despite people tell me urban legend stories of attractive girls and handsome amazing boys meeting and marrying. I signed up and told not a soul, none of my friends knew, none of my workmates knew, none of my family knew. It was secret time. Because there's nothing worse than ten minutes after the dating, forty-five phone calls with the 'How'd it go?' 'Did you meet anyone?' I can't stand that! Anyway, I registered and spent the work before planning so many wardrobe options. Of course, the Thursday before my Monday dating, a lovely cold-sore develops on my lower lip (oh yes people, that's right, I get the very infrequent cold-sore, which has nothing to do with a sexually transmitted disease but it doesn't stop the stares and oochs, and grimaces). Fantastic! So Monday roles around and thankfully the cold-sore has diminshed a little, but I did wear a shade darker than normal in lipstick. I arrived smack bang on time, so walked around the block twice and then pretended to be fascinated by a pair of shoes in a closed shoe store. Arrving fashionably on time, the pre-chat kicked in where I made friends a plenty. Not bragging, but a large part of my profession requires that I small talk with the best of them, so while my heart is thumping, I'm grinning and chatting away and no one is any wiser. The girls, as always happens when I'm out, love me. I make friends incredibly easy, I like to make people feel at ease, and I felt these girls, like me, when panicking their little hearts out. The fellas too were clearly scared, shy and reclusive. Once the dating itself began, I became more and more relaxed and large part was due to the fact, no one really took my fancy. And it wasn't any one thing in particular that didn't click but, really it just didn't click for me. I ticked yes, to two guys, one the American who is visiting Australia for six months. And two the Doctor - who I didn't realise was a Doctor until afterwards when almost every girl in the room was almost glued to his hip. Why so, I asked my new-found friend at the next table? He's Doctor. Both the American and the Doctor both ticked yes for me as well, as Tuesday afternoon I received the email which indicated my matches and their contact details. It's Sunday and I've not heard a word! It's like my entire dating life all over again, early promise and then nothing. I wouldn't say I hated it, but I wouldn't say I loved it. Sure, there were plenty of single men in one venue but it was too rushed, too pressured and nothing natural could really develop.

*** *** ***

So after all this, I've really been thinking about what I want in relationship, or who I see as a potential. And here's the thing, it's completely undefinable. I want banter and laughter and friendship, I wanted someone who knows me enough to say 'Hey, come on, you can do better.' Someone who loves me inspite of my faults and sees the person I be. And then small things like height, some one who can make me, 5ft 10, feel like a woman and not a giant elephant. The relationships that always catch my attention are unrequited loves or friendship based loves. I guess because I so strongly identify with the unrequited aspects. TV couples who transfix me are Josh and Donna from The West Wing, who worked together for seven years and were clearly meant for each other, and shared some of the best banter and unresolved tension. In the same stratosphere of friendship based love is Jim and Pam from The Office USA. One of the most moving scenes of TV was the second season finale, where Jim confronts Pam and confesses to loving her. And while she rejects him, the bravery and the honesty he displays, the phrase 'I want to be more than that.' It gets me every time. And not even TV couples - one of my friend's is a recent couple, and the way she beams and the cheeky glances between them, across a room full of people. And even my friend's who've been together for a long time. My friend who lives with her boy, and even now, the smiles they share when he walks in the door. I want that stuff so badly, I envy it so much. But where to get it from? The problem when you don't have it, is you start to look in places you shouldn't. And that's where the wrongly-timed kissing with the friend came, and even the Speed Dating. Which was an experience but not an experience for me. It's the look without looking. The being satisfied without truly being satisfied. Looks easy from the outside, but from the inside it's a tough thing to be.

And So It Goes

I have a special skill, it's a very unique one, I think at least for me. I seem to attract exactly the wrong type of man. And before you get all excited, no it's not some Danny Zuko bad boy type who will break my heart and leave me sad and lonely. It's the ultra nerd. The socially uncomfortable, Star Trek pledging, can I fix your hard drive on the computer nerd. And unlike the movies these nerds aren't just sheathed in glasses that once removed reveal a hot man who just needed hair gel. These nerds are tried and true. And boy am I a bitch for calling them that. I know it, I am very aware of how hypocritical and awful I am, but honesty on Sunday.
Man 1 has returned with a scary, geeky vengance and it makes me feel ill. It frustrates me and annoys me and angers me. And mostly it's not Man 1's fault but more a case of my ego. Because while I am not attracted to him in any way, and we defianetly don't connect that's not what angers me. It's me in comparison to him. Is that where I rank in the social standings? It's so terrible to admit this, so ugly but it's true and I want to make it clear, I am no love saint, I am mean and bitchy and I have nasty preconceptions about people and I am a snob. But honestly, for all my whining about low self esteem, there is buried in there, some part of me that believes I deserve something good, someone who is both mentally and physically attractive to me. But I have never had someone I admire respond in kind. It's always me, sad puppy dog me pining after some hot man or my loser loner nerds lusting after me - and I'm so sick of it. It's even happening online. Yes, I am too lonely to continue being alone anymore, so I've taken baby steps back to the virtual dating world and I hate that too. I hate the humilation I feel everytime I log on and realise that in some way, it's because I've failed in the real world. I hate scrolling through pages of very nice looking men and seeing some who sound honest and cool and thinking why couldn't I have met them at the Post Office or the supermarket, I hate having 35 year old truck drivers with three teeth message me saying we share the same interests. I hate it all but I am completely at a loss of what to do. And so even online, I'm suffering from the wrong attention. And that just has me wondering is this where I fit in, in the social ladder, between toothless truck drivers and IT nerds who want to play SimCity this Saturday night?

*** *** *** ***

For the first time in my current adult friendship group, I am the only single person. And for my friends who have found love and are in relationships both new and old that fulfil them, I think that's great, I think they deserve it more than any one and I think their partners are fantastic people for them. I also am tired. I am so tired of being alone and so tired of pretending it's okay. What's interesting is the people who read this, many I know, and I want to immediately say I don't want pity faces, I don't want 'keep hanging in there, it will be okay' because here's what - you don't know that. I've been hearing from many people for so long, that I'm great person, and of course, the right man will come along and you'll love and be loved and these sad lonely days will be but a distant memory. What if that doesn't happen? I'm sick of lying to myself that the fear of being alone isn't very real and isn't very present. Sure, I can definately survive alone on the day to day terms, I'll handle rent and life fine, but it's the bigger picture. It's the someone to wake up too, it's the someone to dream of. The someone to walk home to, and the someone to laugh with. The reason I guess it's so focused at the moment is that not only, I am the only one alone in the friendship circle at the moment, but the emptiness seems to be stretching out for as far as I can see. There are no new and interesting men that I meet on a regular basis, I don't have a boy friend who will wake up tomorrow and realises that actually, I'm the girl he can't live without. I don't have any potential and it makes me incredibly despondent. Because in one respect, there's a whole avenue of my life that's going really, really, really well and I love it and want to keep loving it but then it's night and quiet and there's an empty bed and empty arms, and while that's overly dramatic and soap opera, it's true. And incredibly scary.

An Expert Opinion

You know what I miss - well, I can't actually miss it because I've never really experienced it - but I miss physical intimacy. I think I miss physical contact, I've spent the past two weeks staring at couples in the street and boy, do I envy them. Not because I'm at all attracted to the particular partner but it's the ease of being with some one. It's the way, their arms rest across each others shoulders, the way they laugh in time. It's the interlinked fingers, the shared glances. This all sounds so trite and twee but I imagine there must be nothing better, than after a long day, coming home to a hug. I was at a friend's house and her boyfriend came home and the simple kiss hello, was to me, so beautfiul. I think physical intimacy represents the next step for me. I am in no way a touchy feely person, I'm not stay away personal space person either, just somewhere in the middle but due to the lack of extensive relationships, there hasn't been time to mould into that type of contact. I worry, as I get older too that I'm missing all the opportunities to do certain things at a certain age. I'm too old to be a teenager in love. I'm too old to date the wrong guy. I'm too old to sleep around. I'm getting too old to have my hands all over someone in public, because I simply can't resist him. I'm at the age where relationships come with a destination and having never even got on the train before, I'm an obvious tourist and I worry that it shows.

*** ***

The other day, I heard an interview for one of the contributors to this new book The Secret and I was absolutely furious. The basic premise of the secret is that everyone already has the potential to unlock their own success and it's the negative thoughts that hold them back. Apparently this secret governs everything in our lives, from wealth and relationships to health and environment. The interviewer rightly asked how does some poor person in Indonesia going about their daily business, how does their negative energy deliver a tsnami to their doorstep? The 'expert' said that was a hard one to explain (sure it was!) but found a better example in cancer patients. He prefaced that in no way is he suggesting that cancer patients will cancer on themselves, but people can tend to focus on desperately avoiding getting sick, that they make themselves sick. AS IF! I didn't get to hear much more of the interview, but I was completely enraged. You tell that story to Belinda Emmett and Rove McManus and see how far that gets you. Tell that story to the family who just retrieved their fourteen year old daughter from Sydney Harbour. Did she have massive negative energy about a boating accident?

What enraged me upon further thought was the fact that this 'expert' and his 'secret' then prescribed that I am single because I spent so long thinking about single. Bollocks! Sure, I do spend time thinking about my status but I in no way believe that this negatively affects my search!

I think telling people that their current emotional state is the reason for their lot in life is so dangerous and presumptive. It's why I absolutely detest people like Sam Brett, Mr Secret and the people who wrote 'He's Just Not That Into Me'. I think to generalise what is an incredibly complex and tricky part of life is absurd. I think lecturing people about how they are doing it wrong is even worse. I read the Sam Brett blog recently, with open eyes and was disgusted. She proceeded to cliche and trivalise her way through an entire post. She refused to refer to her own love life and lecture about new and hip ways to meet men (amazingly the chosen way to meet men was also a sponsor that day on the site - imagine the coincidence).

My problem with all these so called experts is I don't think you can be an expert in love. It's against everything that love is. It's messy, and confusing and for every new match comes a new set of rules based on individual personality. I think you can offer advice, I think you can relate personal experiences but I don't believe for second you can generalise. Love is about being stupid and crazy and irrational and brave. Above anything else, I believe, it's about bravery. It's about putting everything on the line and say this is me, this is who I am, you chose to love me. And to let that decision be in some one else's hands is frightening! How dare these 'experts' teach us with games, and energy and vibes that we can change it all. I have friends in the various many stages of love, from myself with nothing through to just marrieds. And every single one of us is brave. From my friend who is trying something completely outside her comfort zone and removed from her normal world; another friend who has every right to pack her bags and boot love out the door but has bravely said I will not let some one ruin love for me, she is putting herself out there again and being rewarded accordingly with love that respects her; another friend who, like me, battled in trenchs for so long alone is finally finding the just rewards of waiting, she is bravely taking the next step; another friend who has found the first man to love her is the best man and he treats her with honour and desire. To all my friends who bravely take the step each day, I am in awe of you all and your bravery. You fly in the face of these so called experts and I am so thankful for that. You are my brave inspiration and because of all of you, in your various relationships or like me, none at all, that makes me believe.

A Big Problem...

I have two major problems at the moment. My first problem may not sound at all like a problem because, really, I have only myself to blame but it is still a problem. As you may have noticed from the post below, apparently I was going to make a more concentrated effort in my reporting. Well, as you can see, it's been a while between drinks here at Sunday. For that I apologise, I actually do mean to continue this and I will, it's just difficult. I won't blame a busy life or no time. It's got nothing to do with that. It's being honest - that's the problem. For it would be so easy to post a humor filled, sarcastic, self indulgent rant about my lack of love life, how I bar hopped and found nothing, how I'd Internet dated and golly gosh despite my best efforts nothing. But I am not Sam Brett and that's not the reason I'm doing this. It's to hold myself to truth, to see what I've written and done and know that I wrote the truth.

Being honest and admitting that I've been lazy about seeking out love, that I'm hiding is hard to admit to myself, let alone putting it out there. And it's true, I am absolutely hiding. No, I'm not a recluse, I don't spend weekends in my room listening to sad songs wishing upon on a star. It's not that obvious but then it is. Right now, I'm honestly 10 kilos heavy that what I should be. Before you roll your eyes and click out, believing I am another nutty woman, worrying about her weight, hold on. I don't believe 10 kilos is what is stopping men from dating me. I'm not stupid. But it's not helping. No way. Neither is my chipped front tooth, that I excuse as being to expensive to fix. Neither is my lack of efforts in presenting the best version of me. Again, relax, my self esteem is fine, it's all folded into one big package issue. And I can hide behind this and tell myself it's fine. I'm not getting dates because I've got a few deterrents. Why not change you ask, why not make an effort to loose the weight, fix your tooth and start making more of an effort. You'll feel better about yourself and look good too. That's perfectly sane, and I think a brilliant idea. And generally on Sunday's I swear this week, I will do that. But somewhere, in my
subconscious, somewhere the voice inside says 'What if it doesn't change a thing?' What if, after making the best of myself, what if I still remain alone? How do I continue to believe then? While people will tell me this is absolute madness and it's crazy and stupid and I completely agree, I can't help it. It's been my default setting for so long, I don't know any different. It's a self preservation thing. Rather me control the rejection than someone else.

*** ***

My other major problem is actually convincing you that my love life is dead! Especially after again, something completely out of the blue occurred. Let's put it on record, I don't hate Valentine's Day. I'm not a raging single that depises that entire commercial sales pitch, reason being, I want in on that sales pitch. I don't want everyone bemoaning commercial love to ruin it, for if and when I ever get there. That being said, I've only ever had one Valentine's Day with someone and it's was when I was 14 and the boy I dated left me a bizarre unsigned and unnamed card and CD in my letter box declaring his love. I only knew it was him because we'd discussed that I liked that CD (Mariah Carey, Musicbox - Yes, I know). And that's it, I haven't had anything else so I never, ever expect anything. The shock at receiving a call from Sibling 2, who I live with, was pretty high, especially when she said, 'Who loves you?', me clueless 'What?' her 'Someone has left you a rose at the front door.' HUH? WHAT? I had no idea who sent the rose, I was immediately convinced it was Sibling 2 playing a joke, but she swore black and blue that no, she had nothing to do with it. All day I spent wondering, who, how, what and still I really, really, really had no idea. I came home and was fully prepared for the joke to be revealed. But no, there it was, a single red, store bought, rose. A note: BBSG (my real name was actually on the note), Thinking of you, xox and that was it. No signature, no clue to reveal an identity. Huh? I still believed it to be a joke, or something from one of my friends who was being funny but after checking all sources no, no one had any idea and everyone was intrigued! My mother, being my mother, of course believed it to be Sibling 2, and actually demanded that Sibling 2 get on the phone so she could tell her to own up.

So, who is the mystery rose giver you ask? I STILL HAVE NO IDEA. That's right, more than a month later the mystery man has yet to show his face or leave further clues and I'm actually really angry. Which sounds so awful and cruel but I am damn it. I am furious when I think about it. I have been in the situation, many, many times where I admired someone from afar. Harboured that secret crush that we all do at some time. I of course, waited for something to happen but the two times where nothing happened but I believed something could, I put my best foot forward and told them my feelings. Not face to face of course, are you insane?, I am in no way that brave a person. I both times, wrote incredibly soppy, Dolly magazine esque notes (I was in High School) and delivered them to their homes. But I signed my name, scary and awful and girly as it was, I signed my name and owned up to it. Wouldn't it be great if I could say that it resulted in a match - sorry, both times I ended up on the end of a 'it's so flattering but um, no' conversation and afterwards was treated with pity and not friendship which we'd had before. But below the humilation and embarrassment was a small feeling of relief, relief that I'd done it. And that's what frustrates me more than anything about this, is that this person is hiding and I am, if anything, open to possibilities. Yes, right now, I hear the Greek chorus saying Man 1, look how you dealt with that. But I think I was nice and friendly and caring when I dismissed Man 1's advances and I still remain friendly and chatty to Man 1, even more so than before, in an effort to get to know him.

Still, thinking about it today, underneath all the frustration about not knowing who this person is, and the anger from that, is doubt. While it's awful to admit, I doubt some one is honestly thinking about me in that way, I doubt that they spend their days sincerely thinking 'I wonder what BBSG is doing, and how I wish I was part of her life romantically.' I doubt it deep in my soul, and I guess that's why I'm angry, because every day that passes that Red Rose Giver doesn't reveal their exsistence, gives me more belief that it's a mis-timed joke. And that would break me a little. So, selfishly, for my sake, I hope Red Rose Giver you do exsist, and hope that you feel it's okay to be brave, and tell me who you are. Tell me that you are honestly thinking of me. And maybe, just a little, save me from myself.

A More Concentrated Effort

It starts with great, massive, huge intentions. And then in my typical style, it falls kind of flat. Note the fact this post is on a Tuesday, not a Sunday. And secondly its almost been a month since stating I would boldly tell the truth about everything, in my romantical life anyway. Still, it's my blog and I'll procrastinate if I want to.

But away from the snark and sarcasm - back to the truth. Romantically, it's been a completely typical non-typical month for me. All massive starts and beginnings and then falling flat into oblivion. After laying it out there for any interested time wasters to see, I was/still am determined to persue a love life. A some one. Not an any one - let's make that clear. I'm not searching for a (insert twangy American accent) 'boyfriend'. I want a partner, I want a friend, I want reality and I want mess and madness. I know far too many people who are settling for a man in their life because it makes them feel okay. I will not be that person.

Anyway, what's been happening since January 7? Not even three days after posting my raison d'etre for 2007, Man 1 (to protect the innocent/guilty and in-between I will not name, merely number) wandered into my office and began chatting casually. I know Man 1 through work but not on a friendly basis. More of a nod and 'How's the weather?' acquantiance level, so it was odd to find him in my office chatting away. I was mentally deciding two things - firstly what is his name again? and secondly I thought the problem from this person's department is fixed so why is he here? After some cursiory questions, he bravely asked if I was interested in going out to lunch sometime. WHAT? HUH? Where in the hell did that come from? You know when people say, 'I never knew he liked me that way and now we're having our fifth child.' Well, I'm sorry, I don't believe them, there had to be some signals. But this, I was completely blindsided. If you had asked me ten minutes earlier, some one is going to ask you out, guess who, I would bet the entire world's future existence that I would not know it was Man 1.

In my complete and absolute state of shock, I immediately rushed with instincts and vaguely alluded to the fact I'd just started dating some one and it wouldn't be appropriate. He of course, stumbled backwards and rushed away saying of course, no not at all and a million sorries. For at least the following ten minutes I sat bewildered at my desk. Huh? I just didn't get it. And from here the tried and true self deflection method comes in. He must be weird, because no one just sees me and wants to date me, something clearly wrong there, one too many knocks to the head. Others around me, immediately scolded me for a rash dismissal, saying I was always complaining about the lack of men, and how I was looking for love (damn, that people remember what I say) and here comes along a nice boy and I reject him off the bat. Still, I clung to my instincts and believed my worse demons. It was just too out of the blue to be a good thing.

That night I went to my sibling's house. Sibling 1 is married and has a child and while she likes to think she spent her years in dating hell, Sibling 1 had quite a few steady boyfriends, Sibling 1 had one very rotten boyfriend and then was heartbroken. A year later Sibling 1 met, fell in love with and went on to marry Brother in Law - BiL. All this was done by the time she was my age, so while I love Sibling 1 very much, her dating advice holds little sway with me. It's a whole different ball game. Still, after telling my story of romance from Man 1, Sibling 1 swooned. Deemed that I was heartless for lying (I consider it massaging the truth) and that I should be accepting the date with post haste. I don't usual share my dating life with Sibling 1 in efforts to avoid such lectures.

Still, I began to doubt myself. Had I just pushed away the great man I was waiting for? I am, afterall forever complaining about the lack of men and romance. I am forever hoping for a very such invitation - why now, does the very thing, have me running for the hills?

To cut a long story somewhat short, over the course of the next few days, it came through sources that Man 1 had inconclusively asked other ladies out in the building, under what pretexts and timelines, t'was still a mystery. However eye-witness reports have concurred that trusting my instincts was completely the right thing to do, as Man 1 and I are completely different people and Man 1 is a touch on the unique side.

So it was over before it even began. The very story of my love life. Really, it is. There are many, many, many examples of similar occasions where for a 24 hour period, I'm all fluttery about a man prospect of some kind and then faster than a reality show contestant's fame, it's all gone.

As it's a recurring theme, I wonder is it me? Are my gross expectations driving them away, or do I put the hex on it before it has a chance to live? Who the hell knows.

***

My other massive discovery for the month is the beach. Yes, I'm very aware of it's existence but having just spent a while down there, I've decided the beach is the worst place for a single girl. The obvious and terror inducing horror of swimwear aside - it's choc o bloc full of couples. From my vantage point, where I spent at least three solid days on the sand, there was the vast array.

From the tweeny girls and boys - still young enough to play in the sand, bucket and spade but old enough to run back to Mum and Dad in fits of giggles because of boy. To the actual teens, who come in sets of three. Three boys, three girls. The new generation of teen girl barely recognisable from an adult woman (in fact, I know I looked more teen than most real teens there). They flirt with wild abandon and boys then play cricket or soccer and attempt to impress with overtly masculine displays. This is then followed by throwing chosen girl into the water in playful attempts to cop a feel. Then come the twenty-somethings. The girls stop going in the water, or only on the promise of no wet hair and the boys get more masculine in their games. This is for the shallow end of the twenty-somethings. For the deep end, it's a couple destination, the beach. They come together, lie on the sand and whisper sweet nothings to each other. There is reading and overt displays of public affection. There is laughter and then a joint swim, which can sometimes turn into a M rated event if they think they are undetected. For the thirty-somethings. It's either this or the massive tasks of kids, and all that comes with it.

Still the greatest thing I noticed was there are no single women on the beach past a certain age. I was there with my girl friend and we were having a lovely time, reading crappy romance novels, enjoy the sunshine etc and I sadly thought while looking out over the crowd, what happens if I'm still single in ten years time? Do I go to the beach alone?

There are so many places were couples reign supreme, and while I certainly don't begrudge them, in fact envy is very much the name of the game - I'm often, in beautiful moments, left a small slice of sad. I long to be a hand holder in public, a beach boy frolicker with some one to splash water at me playfully, some one to lovingly - with a hint of spice for later, rub sunscreen into my sure to burn shoulders. It all comes to back to wanting some one.

So farewell, Man 1, thanks for trying, the effort was greatly appreciated by me and my self esteem. Farewell to the beach goers, I'll see you next summer. Maybe with a some one at my side.

xx BBSG

The Beginning

It begins, of course, with a new year's resolution. And for me, it's the same every year. The same wish, and prayer, as opposed to a resolution - which I guess should clue me into something wrong - but still I make it every year. It's to find love, and not be afraid to embrace it all forms. Very mumbo jumbo, touchy feely Oprah style. Still, I'm, underneath my cynic sheep clothing, an incurable romantic. I believe in love, I believe that completes you, I believe it offers you a new perspective on yourself. I believe.

With all this belief, you'd think I have rich and coloured romantic history. You'd think there a great loves, and heartbreak, and seperation in my past. In fact it's quite the opposite. And I'm not some heartbroken girl dismissing that ex-boyfriend, that they don't want to acknowledge. Oh no, there is no ex-boyfriend. The last relationship - and I use the term loosely - was more than four years ago, and wasn't a relationship as more falling into something.

So what this means for me, is, loneliness. An indescribable and unremovable loneliness. Yes, it's fine I'm okay, I'm not going to drown in my own self pity. The loneliness stems not from being some hidden away recluse - for I love my life, and my friends, family and I actually, mostly, enjoy my job. It's just that after being single for so long, most girls' get look back and have that memory of a boyfriend telling how much they loved them, how beautiful they are and that they are there for them. Because even though family will tell you this, they are bound by bonds of being family. Someone you date is there because they like you, they are attracted to you, they seek you out. It's a form of validation that most people have some where in their memories. Me, not so much. Yes, that's right, I've never been in love.

Now all this moaning and whinging is very pretentious but it's the back story to this blog. It's the set up so you know where I stand before I jump into all this. Every year I make the same wish and so far, I've come up trumps. So like all the people who will follow their weight loss on scales, I will open it up, for consumption. Two people may read this blog, no people may read this blog but at least it will compel to me follow through.

If you're wondering why Being Brave on a Sunday - it's because I always find myself, on the Sunday before the week starts, making promises to myself. I will eat healthy, I will go to bed that little bit earlier so I can get up earlier, I will do my laundry. Never happens but it's that Sunday bravery that I'm trying to embrace.

My first embracing of it, hasn't gone all that well. After being fearful of internet dating for many years and having smug coupled friends, tell me what a great idea it is (sure it's easy for you, you don't have to do it) I heard a friend talk about what a great date he had from an internet meeting. It was someone I wouldn't expect to do that, so I thought why not? I'll get it a shot. I signed myself up, I wrote a very difficult profile. Must sound funny, but not too cynically in 1800 characters. Must have interests that sound exotic and exciting and not included enjoying So You Think You Can Dance. I managed to write an okay profile and decided to let people come to me. But after more than one not suitable response, I decided to seek out a man myself. I sent a KISS, which is like a little wave to say 'hi'. He responded eagerly with an email and an invitation to chat later that night. Circumstances meant I was unable to, but the next day I emailed his private email address and introduced myself, offering a few chatty comments, a little bit of funny. A pretty well constructed email or so I thought. No word, for days upon days. I became like a sixteen year old girl, constantly logging on to check my email. But nothing, nadda, zip. I then check the internet dating site and he has now removed his profile! Not the best start.

Well, I will as the site says, be brave on Sunday's, every Sunday possible. Feel free to follow along with the lovely ups but mainly downs of my love life.

B.B.S.G - Being Brave on Sunday Girl