A Business Proposal to the Kardashian Empire

I’m sitting on a plane next to a triangle of a man.

Toned is fine, but triangular tank from waist up? OTT. Perhaps if I was more waiflike I’d be daydreaming about being swept in this guys handsome forearms, but right now those forearms are getting swept up in my Qantas breakfast service muesli and my elbows are getting swept up by a passing tea trolley.

The Perth Glory soccer team are on board, so today the plane isn’t the sea of overweight hi vis that it usually is. It’s full of eye candy but dear readers, I think I’ll stick to predominantly scrawny beanpole men. Thanks all the same Perth Glory, you may be physically fit hotties but your specific dimensions don’t fit practically into my lifestyle.

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Ahh Melbourne, it’s good to be on a plane on my way to back to you. Although, our last parting saw me empathising with a Kardashian. Kanye told her she was ‘one of many’ while she was pregnant with his child. Shit, bitch! I wasn’t going to give birth to a celebrity baby but I did get told I was ‘one of many’ and decided not to go any more city dates. You heard it first, I’m switching off my babe radar. Why?

I went on a ridiculously great blind date in Melbourne. Possibly the best date ever. Key ingredients included great food, ambient lighting, good music etc and minor characters include a tabletop contortionist, African dancehall musicians and 60’s beach themed go go podium dancers. Oh readers, we kissed on a dance floor! This is to say nothing of the Blind Date himself, who will remain respectfully anonymous and un-discussed. When I asked to see him again he said he was dating a few other girls and if any of them worked out it wouldn’t be right to see a ‘desert lover’ because he was a gentleman.

Sigh.

Of course.

How am I meant to suss out if we’re compatible, if it’s more than a spark? Over fucking Skype?

‘Ooh, Movidas, nice! Put your video on so I can see what you’re eating. Me? I’m eating Pitango at the office where the fast internet is, so don’t worry about all of my colleagues in the background, or those 11 year olds or those senior ladies. Oh, sorry about the noise from the musicians next door, it’s still working hours in my time zone. Yeah I’m good thanks. No, I’m not nervous, I’m just sweating because our air conditioner is broken and it’s 41 degrees.’ 

It’s hard to play the field when you live 7 hours away (by plane) from said field.

I try to maintain that there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s simply no men where I live, that as soon as I move to the right place the men will come flocking. Melbourne is a Man Oasis, but I’m not around to follow up (note to self: move to Melbourne) and none of them are as available as they initially present to be.

Heart on your sleeve? Nah, y’all need to print out your marital status on your T shirts fo realz, I’m sure the Kardashians would invest in such a fashion line. Imagine you in da club, scoping the joint for babes. Who are you gunna pick? The guy in the ‘Up for a shag, but sussing out several other women for their girlfriend potential’ T shirt? I would have saved myself heaps of time (and written less blogs) if only shirts existed reading ‘I kissed another girl 3 weeks ago and it’s still undefined,‘I’m not flirting, I’m just giving you polite customer service,’ and the even more helpful ‘I’m just a massive douchebag.’ 

Kardashians, I await your call. Men bearing ‘entertaining and available handsome gentleman’ T shirts, feel free to give me a call too. Meantime, I’ll be enjoying other pleasures of big city life, like wearing long pants and scarves instead of shorts, wearing boots, culturally inappropriate necklines and synthetic fabrics, eating delicious Balinese food, dining out, dancing and shopping with old friends in a shop that isn’t Country Target. 

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