Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Look into my eyes...

It's an unspoken but agreed clubbing etiquette that once you share a few seductive stares across the dance floor, one of you will approach the other.

But you have to be careful who you stare at, I’ve come to the conclusion that the following people should not be given ‘the eye’ in clubs:

1. Guys with girlfriends (for obvious reasons)
2. The bouncer (he’ll think you’re dodgy)
3. Men who look hot

Yes, point 3 seems ludicrous, but the darkly lit dance floor can be a single girl’s blessing and her curse. On Friday a boy I thought ticked last week’s desirability boxes: tanned, skin head, dark eyes and moody stare wasn’t quite so desirable up close.

From a distance he looked hot hot hot, and I wasn’t wearing beer goggles. But by the time he came over I realised he was about a foot shorter than me the skin head was more egg head and unfortunately he was about 18. I made polite conversation and felt like a huge tease as I’d practically invited him over with my determined stare only to try and run away when he spoke to me.

Lesson learnt – get closer before you start staring at your next piece of ‘prey’

Monday, 18 January 2010

The good old dating days

Gone are the days when you knew a boy really liked you – he took your home phone number, called two days later, spoke to your dad, then you, while your younger siblings ease dropped.

With mobile phones things get complicated. Flirting through text can mean nothing at all other than an ego boost to whoever the uninterested party is. And hey, thanks to so-called ‘feminism’ boys can slam doors in our faces, make us pay for dinner and never call after a date.

Boo hoo us! These, of course are not revelations, but you’d think that in 2010 I’d be sussed enough to know when to make the move…

This dilemma came the other night at a work event the drinks flowing, small talking was mandatory and avoiding the canap├ęs while detoxing was impossible. A short but oh so sexy hottie was giving me the eye… or so I think.

A couple of eye conversations later, I wondered how I could give him my number. Was he really checking me out or did he have something in his eye? He was in a little group and it was just too tough to tell what my next move should be.

Going straight up there seemed a bit presumptuous and a teeny bit desperate, so I walked away. I felt as deflated as you do when you’re on the escalator going down, hot guy opposite is going up and checks you out. What can you do – you’re in different directions.

I miss the days where a guy would just walk straight up to you, ask you to dance/for your number/what the dowry was, at least then it banished the uncomfortable feeling of silly texts that mean nothing or teasing stares that have left me wistful…

Wednesday, 13 January 2010

Risking it all for romance

Last night sat on a plane a rare thing happened. A good looking man spoke to me.

Ok, it was only to ask how he got to London Bridge from Heathrow but I still blushed, tossed my tresses in delight and practically wrote a dissertation on London night life on his sheet of A4. He kept asking me questions though...

Mid-blush I had to ask myself, should I give him my number and tell him I'll play tour guide and he can play hot Aussie (not that he'd have to act at all) or just ignore it?

Logic reared it's ugly head:
1. He's too good looking likely to cheat
2. He's in town for 5 days what can really happen
3. He lives the other side of the world

Where has my 'sod it' attitude gone? Has my man hunt made me so cynical I'm avoiding all risk... isn't that the point of romance.

So tonight, I sign off regretful, wish I'd asked for his number!

Thursday, 7 January 2010

Another one bites the dust

As I enter into the ages where the big 3-0 now seems young, and being 21 feels like childhood, I’ve noticed more of my mates shunning the single scene.

Another day, another picture on Facebook of girls sporting rocks on their left hands. What shocked me most is that my fave party partner, who was always up for fun, mid-week, afternoon or mid-morning has left me. Where did she go?

We spent our time dancing on tables, in taxis on the streets. I’d call her at midnight and we’d go out. Men moved to her like a magnet because she was tonnes of fun, gorgeous and a really nice person. She would know someone who had a table at X,Y and Z establishment and we drunk our early twenties away.

I loved man hunting with her and I always thought she’d be around to party with.

Then suddenly it stopped. She met a man, moved in with him, and yesterday told me she’s engaged. Excellent, just as I’m in need of some attention of the male variety she, the one who never let me down leaves singlesville for good…

Monday, 4 January 2010

Moody men

I thought it was girls that got stroppy and stormed out on things. Apparently not. I took a (possibly too recent) ex to see Cirque du Soleil’s latest show yesterday evening and things kicked off to a great start with crisps and warm water thrown into the mix. When he bought my friend and I wine he upped the ante and even chimed in on the girlie conversation of careers and men, making me fall a little in love with him again.

I spoke too soon.

The man earns a living entertaining people, but he didn’t clap, break a smile or even pretend he was enjoying it once. It totally derailed the night as I was having a great time and wanted to share it with someone.

He left at the interval.

Luckily, I’d had the foresight to bring a friend as she was loving it as much as I was. It got us talking though. Her ex didn’t take much enjoyment out of the things she loved and got moody if it wasn’t what he wanted to do. I now hope I don’t do this when I’m at a footie match or worse, watching sport on TV. My sentiment is that if you’re going to be bored, moody and rude don’t come. Simple as. Although my ex didn’t find it so simple.

With us girls left alone we spent the rest of the show discussing how great it would be to have sex with an acrobat – am now chasing a flexible fittie who won’t be bored at the circus.