Recyclable dating

I’m not going to lie, adjusting back to the London way of life has been pretty hard. And I’m not just talking about the weather.

As I touched down on Heathrow’s tarmac and shivered my way home I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t date until the summer! Sorry, but who dates in the winter? I couldn’t possibly go from dates by the beach and overlooking Sydney Harbour (yes...I know I’m boasting) to dates without the tan I achingly spent a good 50 days perfecting and dates where my hair was so windswept that I looked like a hedgehog on steroids.

But who was I kidding? No dating for a dating enthusiast is bordering on just plain stupidness. So before I knew it I was logging on to a dating site - ‘What’s the harm in just having a quick surf?' (less Bondi, more laptop!).

Now, when someone says to me ‘Oh you’re doing THAT Internet dating thing are you?’ I give a little chuckle.

Because I’m not JUST doing that Internet dating thing, I’m actually a veteran of Internet dating. FACT. If someone could hold a world record for the amount of dating websites they’d signed up to I would probably be the clear winner. I know about winks, nudges, email rejections and the 60 year old men who think it’s acceptable to email 29 year olds and ask for a date. Stop it. I will never say yes.

And because I’ve been Internet dating since I was 12 (well it seems like it!) I think I’m actually now, shamefully, recycling the men on them.

I sent a cheeky email to a guy on a dating website the other day, only to be horrified when he emailed me back saying ‘Didn’t we date before?’ Of course not, you’re thinking. Out of the possible thousands of men on Internet dating sites, how could it humanly be possible for me to stumble across the same guy twice? Believe me it’s actually possible....so possible that I’m sure it will happen again!

And I nearly even dated a friends ‘now’ boyfriend. He recognised me from her facebook pictures recently as the girl that never emailed him back on a dating website. I’m just glad that we never actually dated – now that would be an awkward type of date recycling.

So have I got to the point, where I’ve been single for so long that I’ll just have to start recycling old dates? Should I ring up old boyfriends and tell them it’s their turn to date me again? ‘What, you have a girlfriend? Well as long as she doesn’t mind I suppose!’

And because of my veteran status, does this terrifyingly also mean my judgement about whether a potential date is ‘dateable’ or not is slightly misconstrued now?

I should have really known from his user name (it referred to food) but I was pretty annoyed when I turned up to a date recently and he didn’t quite match his profile photos. Call it what you like - false advertising, lying or just plain skillful with the old photoshop tool, but it doesn’t do you much good when you realise you have to spend the best part of the evening with a ‘different to the Internet’ version of your date.

I tried, I really did try to like him, but as his words came out all I could here was my head saying, ‘Excuse me Mr but I think you may have lied a little bit on your profile.’ And when I did hear him speak most of it was food orientated. Like the time he returned from New York and saved room in his case for a kilos worth of Peanut butter chocolate. And I can’t even describe the expression on his face when I told him that Antony Worrall Thompson cooked me lunch once. I could have fit a whole cheesecake in his open mouth (his favourite food apparently!), that was after he stopped dribbling mind.

I hate people who tell fibs, and fibbing in date land is, well, punishable by no second date I suppose! He was so far off a second date that even if cheesecake was involved I would have said no. Honestly.

And so my London dating resumes.....I suppose it wouldn’t have been a ‘Sarah’ date if it had actually gone well, but please can I stop running into former dates?! Or at this rate there will be no options left and date recycling will be the only way forward.

New years 'dating' resolutions

After meeting all manner of unsuitable men last year, my New Year’s resolution was simple – to embark on a man-detox!

But just like my amazing attempt at a New Year’s resolution in 2010 (to give up wine… I lasted three days) my plan ran into a little problem when a super hot guy grabbed me just after midnight and started kissing me! Well, honestly, if you’d seen him (and if he’d grabbed you) you would have understood…

So after a marathon kissing session with said super hot guy and getting over the hangover from hell (hey, it’s not every day a London girl gets to welcome a new decade in Sydney) I decided to forget about the detox and instead try my luck at speed dating.

Now, I don’t have a great track record when it comes to speed dating. My first attempt was thwarted by my admittedly sky-high expectations. Under no circumstances should you go speed dating if you’ve recently been dumped, you’re pining for another man or you’re desperate to find The One.

Unfortunately, the first time I went speed dating, I had been suffering from all of the above. There had been a sheer lack of men in my life since I’d been dumped a few months previously and dating 15 men in one night sounded like the sort of challenge which would brighten up my love life.

Imagine my disappointment, then, when I turned up. I’d expected tall, dark and handsome; I got short, bald and boring. And I was left emotionally drained after not even stumbling across Mr Right-Now.

My second encounter wasn’t any better. I’d been dragged there kicking and screaming and before the dating had even commenced, a fellow dater accidentally spilled her entire martini on my dress. It didn’t dawn on me until afterwards that she may have actually been trying to cut out the competition. That’s how intense speed dating can be.

But I was determined to give speed dating another try – with an open mind. Oh it also helped that it was speed dating whilst wine tasting – ‘if in doubt drink wine’ I always say!!

As luck would have it, the first guy I “dated” was a pilot; things were looking good already. So after about 15 mini dates, some quite hot men, some quite geeky men and enough good wine to quell my nerves, I realised I was actually having fun.

And I realised that speed dating – in fact, all types of dating - in Sydney is somewhat different to London. Nobody has expectations. It’s more like going on a ride in Disneyland than a serious game of chess (that is, there are no winners or losers). And most importantly, the men are much hotter. Especially the pilot...with whom I exchanged numbers!

So what have we learnt here? New Year’s resolutions never last. Date detoxing is a great idea if you want to meet a hot man. And speed dating + Sydney equals lots of fun and possibly a date or two.

Happy New Year!

First published on: http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/my_new_years_dating_resolution.htm

Let's get sweaty.....

For me, dating usually occurs in the safe confines of a bar or restaurant, where alcohol is readily supplied and comfort is key. So when I was asked along to Fit2Date, a dating-meets-fitness class in Sydney’s CBD I was, well, scared.

I’m not the kind of girl to shy away from a bit of exercise – in fact, I’m a Spin class regular and running and I have recently become friends. But exercising and dating: that is definitely new territory for me.

I’m prone to falling over in heels after a few too many wines, so God knows what would happen if you armed me with tennis racket, a surfboard or, God forbid, a dart. More than likely it would end with some sort of embarrassment or my date taking me to hospital – not the best first impression.

But what the hell, I thought, dating is all about being outside your comfort zone, right? So I arrived, Lycra-clad, ready to get all hot and sweaty with strange men. Just a regular Tuesday night.

I hoped I could slip in quietly by arriving late, but Tim, our trainer, had other plans. “This is Sarah, she’s come all the way from England,” he shouted as around 14 other fitness freaks muffled hellos.

After proper introductions and a warm-up the hard work really began: finding a guy who I fancied. Oh, and exercising, of course. Luckily, Trainer Tim seemed to have it all figured out. He ordered us to team up in boy-girl pairs, as we all shuffled along looking at each other as though we were at school and the thought of pairing up with a boy scared the living daylights out of us.

The rest of the class disappeared in a blur of lunges, sprints and sack races; I was trying to catch my breath and flirt at the same time – not the prettiest sight. The truth was, I didn’t fancy any of the guys, but I think that was a blessing in disguise. If there had have been any guys I’d been attracted to, I can’t imagine the aches and pains after showing off my push-up prowess.

I ended the night with no numbers, or dates, or even crushes (well, apart from a tiny one on Trainer Tim!) but one guy did ask me if I'd like to go running with him sometime. And I wondered, in the world of fitness dating, is this the equivalent of being asked on a date?? Well, I liked to think so!

First published on: http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/lets_get_sweaty.htm

First impressions.....

As I arrived in Sydney I beamed with excitement; I think I half expected Aussie surfer guys to be walking round the airport, with surfboards and washboard stomachs, waiting with a big plaque welcoming me with ‘Hi Sarah’.

You can imagine my dissapointment, then, when the first group of guys I met were English. Damn, I’d come over here to avoid them, not be surrounded by them. Plus, at 18, they were just a little bit too young for me. I’ve been there with toyboys and it didn’t exactly turn out pretty!

And as the first week passed and I bumped into Irish, American and all manner of men who definitely weren’t Australian, I became increasingly disappointed. Surely I could have met these guys down at my local pub in London.

That is until I bumped into Aussie Paul* in a club a couple of Saturdays ago. I’d been told that Australian men were quite shy and wouldn’t approach me, but Paul was either a rare breed or had just had one too many beers, because one minute I was with my girlfriends on the dance floor, the next he’d dragged me off to a quiet spot to chat. By chatting I obviously mean kissing**. But I wasn’t so sure about this guy: he was lovely, but after a few half-hearted texts my first Aussie encounter fell flat on its face.

So when another Aussie guy, Ben*, offered to buy me a drink at my new local I thought I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Yes, I probably should have listened to my flatmate when she told me he was a cocky twat***, but I really saw no reason not to say yes when he asked me out for dinner the following night...

The date didn’t start too well when he asked if he could bring a friend along. Um, really? In England, friends don’t usually tag along on dates! I’m not sure if it was my confused look or the “Err, NO!” which made him realise it was a bad idea.

And after a couple of drinks I wasn’t really getting his Australian sense of humour (or maybe you just weren’t that funny Ben - sorry!) With that and his love of the pokies (yep, while we were on the date) I wondered what I’d got myself into.

The last straw came when I dared to decline his next date invitation, because I really was too busy. He sulked like a 4 year-old! So have I just picked the wrong Aussie men so far, or are they all like this? Let’s hope not!

*All names have been changed
**Or pashing, as you Aussies call it
*** Or complete dickhead, as you Aussies call them

As published on http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/first_impressionsblogdating.htm

This town ain’t big enough for 'all' of us

As I bumped into yet another ex a few weeks ago, yes full of red faced, awkward, cringe worthy moments I would rather forget, I wondered who had it in for me? Seriously, it was as though someone was intent on embarrassing me.

In the last few weeks I’ve seen exes pop up on facebook with shiny new girlfriends and appear out of know where – usually when I’m looking my worst. I’ve also had to completely blank two exes in broad daylight recently, well it was either that or smile through gritted teeth when I’d rather give them a good slap!

And remember the fitness guy that I snogged and thought it was a good idea? Yep, I had to endure a full hour’s fitness class, while I squirmed and pretended that I hadn’t had my tongue down his throat the week before. I just need to bump into the boy I snogged in primary school now and we’d have a full set.

For purely research purposes only, I worked out the other day that I’ve had 22 first dates since I’ve been single, and that’s not even counting the amount of 2nd, 3rd and 4th dates I’ve been on. Then it dawned on me, have I just dated one too many men, or just one too many in one place? It just seems that London is way too small to avoid exes.

Don’t get me wrong, I love London, it’s amazing for dating, and I readily admit to still wanting a first date in London Zoo. Come on, how can the conversation dry up when you have penguins and lions to look at??!!

But the problem with London is that it can be so impersonal. Everyone's so busy. Even if you meet a guy you fancy, once you check your dairies you realise that in 2 weeks you may just be able to fit them in for a coffee. It took me five weeks to meet up with a guy I wanted to date this summer – by the time we met up I’d forgotten what he’d looked like and if I still actually fancied him or not!

So it got me thinking – would a new city be any different? Would the men just be a rehash of London men, but with a different accent? Would they still be players? Still be immature, rude or freak out when you mention anything more than dating? And most importantly would they get round to calling me back after a date?

Well there’s only one way to find out – I’ve said goodbye to London (exes and cold weather) and G’day to Sydney (aka hot, toned beach boys!) – I really haven’t got a clue if I’ll meet the man of my dreams, or any men in fact, but isn’t it just worth a try....??

Playing hard to get – what’s that then?

“It’s called being aloof Sarah, mysterious even,” my friend said to me. But I checked my dating dictionary and it just didn’t seem to be there. Because basically I just can’t do playing hard to get.

If I like a guy then they’ll probably know about it. FACT.

Generally because I’ll be stuck to them like glue, following them around like a lost puppy, or bombarding them with text messages, emails or tweets. Call it having no willpower or being mentally insane, but when I like someone I just can’t help myself.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not a ‘boil your bunny’ kind of girl or a scary stalker type who literally won’t bugger off until they’ve agreed to marry me that very night. I’ll just make sure he knows I exist by happening to turn up at the gym when he’s there, appearing next to him at the bar or, you know, just being there whenever he so much as sneezes, oh...'bless you'.

Take Dan* who I met recently. After talking to him and realising I fancied him I may as well have just slapped a sticker on my forehead saying ‘If lost please return to Dan’ - I followed him to the bar, outside when he smoked (I don’t smoke). And I probably would have followed him into the toilets if the toilet attendant hadn’t scowled at me and threatened to chuck me out. Basically I was like a besotted teenager.

Thankfully on this occasion it turned out well – i.e. no restraining order, no cat fights with an angry girlfriend and I went away my dignity intact (well slightly...)and even a date – but, with more booze and a hotter guy, I could foresee my problem getting out of hand one day.

And you’d think it would have something to do with the (large) quantities of alcohol I consume when in a bar and near a man I like, but fear not I still don’t understand the meaning of playing hard to get whilst not intoxicated either. Recently in non-bar surroundings I really did try my hardest to be cool – it isn’t my fault then that he nearly walked past me (and totally ignored me) and I had to shout out his name like some sort of deluded freak – any sort of aloofness went straight out of the window.

And my amazing aloof dating tactics haven’t just stopped there. I’ve added guys on facebook, when they’ve merely just said hello to me (well he was hot!) taken detours on my way home in the hope that I’ll bump into him and generally just gone above and beyond to make sure he ‘notices’ me.

Now let’s be honest, if a guy did any of the above to me, especially if I didn’t like him, I’d probably tell him where to go. “Stop following me around, you’re like my bloody shadow,” I’d scream at him, or snog someone right in front of him – just so he got the picture. I’d feel claustrophobic and scared and probably run very fast in the opposite direction.

And if I was dating you and you weren’t on my potential ‘forever guy’ list you’d probably know about it. Basically because all of a sudden playing hard to get will become easier than ever - I’ll avoid texting you, until I’m either bored or you phone my mum wondering if I’ve died! I’d leave you to plan where we go on our dates and eventually either pretend like I never knew you existed or use a get-out-clause, which is so bad that both you and me know it’s just that!

So why do I find it so hard to be aloof when I like someone? And believe me I’ve tried - but my idea of playing hard to get is waiting 5 minutes to text someone back, rather than the whole week it once took a date to text me back!

And do I even really want to play games? I mean isn’t playing hard to get boring, people get tired of chasing each other, and game playing never results in anything long term. But I suppose there’s playing hard to get and looking a little desperate – ‘a la moi’. Even a whiff of desperation can scare off the keenest of guys.

So in a bid to not scare off the cute guy I happen to stumble upon next, maybe I should try and leave it at least a few minutes before scrambling for my phone and texting him back, unglue myself from his side and possibly buy a new dating dictionary – one which explains ‘playing hard to get’ in all its glorious detail!

(*that’s not his real name, silly!)

Men I really wish I hadn’t snogged....

I must just love embarrassing myself, because when it comes to men I’m always getting myself into sticky situations. Yep I’m the girl who would attempt to snog her male friend while drunk, who can’t visit some of her local pubs because, well, ‘he’ works there and goes bright red every time her friend mentions 'that' work colleague. I do stuff without thinking and have to deal with the consequences later – usually ending with awkward moments, silences and wishing I really hadn’t gone there.

Honestly, if there was a prize for the ‘biggest date fuck ups’ I’d probably be the esteemed winner. I just can’t seem to help myself. If I actually worked in an office I would probably be ‘that’ girl who everyone talked about. The girl that made a tit out of herself at the Christmas party - snogged the geeky virgin and made photocopies of things she shouldn’t have.

Maybe I feel like I’m missing out somehow, so to almost make up for it the stupidity has crept into my dating life. In the last few months not only have I chatted up a famous singers fiancé, scared a guy off by kiss and telling about our date via twitter, but also chased men that really just weren’t that into me.

And when it comes to picking the wrong men I would definitely get an A* for effort. At the time you think he's a great idea – he’s hot, you’ve had some liquid confidence and the next thing you know you’re snogging like there’s no tomorrow – in front of everyone. Except there is a tomorrow and you’d forgotten that everyone was there, until that is you turn up at (delete as appropriate) work/gym class/friends house.

You know how people say: ‘oh she’ll learn,’ – well they obviously weren’t referring to me. In my brief dating life I’ve dated or snogged a collection of unsuitable men, including two bosses, a guy that worked at my gym, an array of bar men and way too many friends of friends. And I know that if I met a hot guy tomorrow, who happened to be my best friend's brother, worked at my local pub and hung out at my gym I wouldn’t think twice about chatting him up!

And if only to prove this point last weekend I decided to chat up an instructor for a fitness class I go to. At no point did I stop and think ‘Oh this might be slightly awkward next time I go to class.’ Nope, I just carried on my merry way, accepting more booze from him while I fought off other girls for his attention. Of course the evening ended in a very drunken snog. But when I woke up the next day and sense returned I seriously wondered if cancelling my membership was a good idea!

Looking back maybe I was doomed from the start! When I was a mere 18 years old I drunkenly snogged a guy, but not any guy – he was my university flat mate, and it was ONLY the first night of fresher’s week! I was so embarrassed about it I could barely make it out of my room without going a ‘London bus’ shade of red and our other flat mates teasing me about how I wanted to be his girlfriend. The teasing and embarrassment probably would have lasted all year if I hadn’t managed to win him over as my boyfriend.

You’d think that cringe worthy moment would have taught me to watch what I drink and only approach men who had no connection to anything remotely fitness, work or friend orientated – but no - I’m obviously the kind of girl who has to learn by her mistakes – ALL of them.

So I was obviously just learning when I decided that dating my boss last year was a good idea. That awkward moment - when I had to see him at work, knowing that just two weeks previously he had told me, in a ‘he’s just not that into me’ moment, that he was just too busy to see me – was just a test of my character, huh?

And you think after one awful incident with a local bar man I would have thought twice about dating another one. But I just couldn’t help myself – his blonde hair and baby blue eyes just won me over. It’s a shame then that date number two never materialised. I now have to avoid both bars like the plague, much to the annoyance of my friends.

Maybe I’m just never really going to learn – even if my friends do ever so kindly try and physically drag me away from my latest victim! After all I’m sure it’s not just me who can’t visit her local pub anymore and has to be cautious every time she so much as pops her head into the gym......oh it is? DAMN!