I just went on a date that lasted 29 minutes, narrowly beating that first ever online date with the publican which lasted 34 minutes. A new personal best! Some contextual dot points:
- I think I gave him my number when I was feeling very “cbf talking online, let’s just date” and hence knew very little about him other than that he had a cute face
- I find competency really attractive. Seeing someone do the thing they are really good at is totally hot. Conversely, when people are not good at things, it’s a major boner killer (you know what’s coming) (spoiler alert, he’s not good at something and I witnessed it in very spectacular fashion)
- He was late
- He said “I’m a bit angry because I overslept and have run out of time to do all the things I need to get done today” when I asked how he was.
- He is 42
- He brought his skateboard
All of those things were totally fine. I am always late so I like being the ‘early one’, being self-aware is a great quality, I’m looking to date older men and I used to crush on skateboarders in high school.
They were all fine until at the 27 minute mark when he went to pay for my green tea and his coffee and he tripped over his own skateboard. In a super loud way that made everyone look. This was also kind of fine, until he returned and said “I’m getting too old for skateboarding, I keep falling off and grazing my elbows.”
All the aforementioned dot points then combined to not seem fine anymore. Meantime while he’d been gone I’d turned to the woman next to me who was marking a paper on her own and said “This is potentially the worst or weirdest date I’ve been on. May you never have to online date.” To which she laughed, rolled her eyes and replied “You’re doing so well! I couldn’t help but overhear. That skateboard was really the icing on the cake.”
The solidarity I feel with other single women is truly a wondrous and uplifting thing. I’ve stumbled across some really great new blogs written by other single women who are dating (who I want to share with y’all soon) and last night I met a truly excellent woman at a trashy singles party and together we made a potentially terrible evening into something pretty wonderful.
Below is a pretentious slam-style poem I wrote whilst tipsy on the tram home from the aforementioned trashy singles party at 11pm last night, trying to remember moments to tell y’all. Tonight I’m going All Gender Speed Dating in Northcote, which hopefully will be the polar opposite experience. I’m going with friends! For the first time ever I’m going to a singles thing with friends! Already such a vastly different and improved situation!
Reader, may you never have to online date, and if you do, I hope your bad dates are at least yielding great stories and that you have a receptive and supportive audience for those stories.
Yours in solidarity,
feeling v intimidated on the tram there
(last time was all caked on makeup, boobs out, muscle tops, chinos and gelled hair)
(why did i leave all my friends at a nice gig to come south of the river to a trashy singles party? what are my priorities? who even am i rn? whatever it’s happening now)
walk past Messina
(if this turns to shit at least i’ll get ice cream on the way home)
being welcomed by two women in white wings singing girls just wanna have fun and telling me that if i get overwhelmed just come and hang with them outside
(maybe this will be ok)
the organiser man who turns out to be the most attractive in the venue gives me a famous face from a famous couple on a slip of paper
this is how i will find my match and get a free shot at the bar
(and a free shot at eternal happiness)
(or at least a bloody date on valentine’s day)
doing a lap of the room asking for my match or just holding up the photograph and pointing to it in my fruitless search for the dr evil to my mini me
sitting down next to Ronda and Jo who have been to these things before but as soon as they entered they made a beeline for the bar and the couches in the back corner without speaking to anyone
there’s no one there they fancy (me either)
“but it’s still early they’re expecting 300” so much hope but so little participation
so many shaved bald heads
nice enough men with friendly enough faces but no babes but what did I expect?
is it because this is chapel street?
is it the age category?
is this a lame venue and I didn’t get the memo?
are these things always lame and I kinda knew that but I came anyway because a tarot reader once told me it’s good to get outta the house?
cute dude is sitting near me but talking to a woman in the red dress so I don’t interrupt
(good on her she’s found someone she looks like she really clicks with)
motion a long haired dorky looking dude to sit next to me but as soon as he steps closer the magic of ambient lighting wears off and he opens his mouth and speaks
(i’m immediately uninterested)
tight squeeze standing up
loud 80’s music
(we are not all of us that old that we wouldn’t appreciate a bit of bass with our synth- some dirty rnb or soul or literally any other genre with our pop)
Red Dress explains the man is her work mate who isn’t single just her wingman
Red Dress and Ronda and Jo and me we all agree it’s all a very weird situation
Red Dress wants to leave
let’s do a lap i say sticking my picture of mini me on my forehead with oil and sweat which makes a lot of women smile but most men when I ask them or point to it they just say “you’ve already asked me three times”
let’s dance i say to my new friend Red Dress
just pretend we’re regular gals having a totally normal night out
so we do
earlier that day we got a text message “what’s up movers and groovers (ugh, I’m 32, I wasn’t alive in the 60’s) a few fun notes about tonight, there’ll be a dance contest at 9.20pm so encourage your drunk mates to join in, and make sure you stand back from the bar once you get your drink to clear space let’s have an awesome night woop”
let’s enter that fucking dance competition says Red Dress we’ve got fifteen minutes to choreograph something
we incorporate the charleston, the horsey, some chest isolations, some interpretive dance and end on the robot we are on fire we are having so much fun there is no way we can lose we’re regular gals having a normal night out
we do our dance and it’s fun but the organiser keeps trying to separate us and tell us it’s a solo competition so when Red Dress has to dance by herself and the organiser asks her what her name is she panics “I don’t want to give you my real name” i tell her to just make it up and thus
janice is born
janice dances with the gay abandon of someone who didn’t expect to find themselves dancing solo sober in a circle at a singles party in an unknown bar in Windsor but who is just embracing the situation fully and living their best life
we don’t win
we don’t care
fuck this shit we say
i divulge my icecream backup plan but janice invites me to come with her and her friend to get tacos
i go with them
the tacos are delicious
janice reckons online dating is thus far inconclusive and unsatisfactory
i reckon those are both good words
we have a good time
everything is ok in the end
i get the tram home
in bed by 11.50pm