Thursday, March 29, 2007

Pick ups...

So I've had my fair share of weird pick-up-like experiences...

My first memory of a man's sexual interest in me was when I was 12 and walking to the shops after school in my uniform polo shirt and netball skirt. While crossing at the lights a man stuck his head out of his window and wolf-whistled at me. I was mortified.

Being in a brass band I used to get heaps of lecherous old men telling me how pretty I was over their Carlton Draughts. I was always mortified.

I remember once at a bar a guy bounced a tennis ball at me. I was mortified.

Having a slight disability makes you a target, I guess: Once on a dance floor a guy lifted his pants leg, showed me a giant scar and said "I was in a car accident. I nearly died." And then pointed at my abnormality I was mortified.

Once at the wake of my dad's friend a young man was reintroduced to me after many years (I couldn't remember him) and he said to my dad, in front of me, "You didn't tell me your daughter was so beautiful." We were at a wake. I was mortified.

Last year, the boy I ended up adoring said to me in a drunken stupor that we should bathe together, right there and then. We had barely shook hands at that point. I was mortified!

And then this morning, at the train station as I was quickly running to my next train, I was stopped by a young man who told me he had seen me on the train every day and wanted to ask me out, but didn't know how. So he handed me a book, and said his phone number was in it. I could see my train arriving. He handed me the book. I said thank you and ran to my train.

Yep, you guessed it.

I mean, who does that? The guy left the receipt in the book. He spent $21 on a perfect stranger. Now I feel totally obliged to contact him, just out of courtesy to thank him for the book. I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. I'm taking a break. It tires me just thinking about it. Maybe I'll send him a message and say that I'm happy to chat with him on the train, but a date would be a little full on right now. I found him on MySpace (I hate it but I love it too). He's not my type at all, but he doesn't seem freakish. I guess I'll talk to him.

Just the other day my friend and I were saying how unreal sitcoms were, that strangers do not ask each other out after bumping into each other at the cafe. But I guess they do...

I don't think I have a normal pick-up story. Come to think of it, the whole pick-up thing is pretty weird. Do tell, readers. Do tell.


So I texted him something along the lines of "Hey ****, its Stef from the train. Thank you very much for the book, I'm flattered. I think going out might be too full-on for me right now, but I'm happy to chat on the train. See ya!" I also started reading the book. He didn't reply. (What's with that? He buys me a book but doesn't reply?)

This morning I saw him get on the train, the look on his face when he saw me was of a kind of embarrassed sadness. I smiled. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He was shaking, obviously nervous. I smiled again, I wanted to put him at ease, but at the same time didn't want to be flirty. I thanked him for the book and said I'd started reading it and I was enjoying it, I said it reminded me of Bret Easton Ellis (it's actually a deliberate p/m reference to him, with a nice healthy dose of sex-and-the-city commercialism thrown in for good measure. Kind of like Chuck Palahniuk writing chick-lit). Anyway, he told me about himself. I told him very little, and reiterated that I was not interested in dating because I was just out of a really intense year/relationship and was quite enjoying my time alone. This was 100% true. I told him it was very nice to meet him though, and that it took a lot of guts to do what he did, which was great. I had to run to my train. Maybe I'll see him again next week. I'll probably try to avoid it. Its weird, I feel I should talk to him, as he gave me a book. But we didn't click, and I don't want to lead him on, nor do I want an early morning train friend: I quite like dozing.

Yes, he was harmless and sweet. I feel bad because it was all kinda wasted on this old cynic.

The End.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

A post inspired by a quick little splinter...

I would like to write about my 'real life' and blog friend (well, lets call her a friend; I certainly like her and hope she likes me back, even though we haven't really ever 'hung out'), Rachael.

I first met Rach at the beginning of 2006 in our Honours class, and to be honest, I felt quite reserved about her at first. Here was this incredibly outspoken, intelligent, articulate, fairly open, slightly androgynous, chick from ANU who marched straight into my Melbourne Uni classes and was stealing the show. After a year off uni I was expecting to be a little out of it, but Rach outright intimidated me with her manner and opinions (not on purpose, I know Rach). As time went on, and I got to spend more class time with Rach, I started to learn more about her personality. There was definite substance behind the confidence, she was very witty and quick, and quite self deprecating. She was also generous and gracious about her intelligence and knowledge, and absolutely open to discussion. Of course, it turned out I was intimidated because of my own insecurities, not because of Rach.

I quickly learned that Rach had a blog, and around the same time I started this craptastic endeavor. Rach's blog has always been a great read. Apart from her accomplished writing skills, her blog is consistently funny and insightful. through the Internet I learned the cyber-Rach, who coexisted with uni Rach. Through both, I came to hold ach on quite the little pedestal throughout the year. Her results and subsequent admission for a PhD is a good confirmation of her position in my mind.

Okay okay, where is all this mundane arse-kissing going, you ask? No, as dishy Rach is, I'm not trying to get into her skinny jeans... She once told me she was 'the worst lesbian ever,' meaning, I gathered, that she does occasionally go for those boy-things you see around the place. I have to confess I'm not even a little bit lesbian, I exclusively go for those boy-things.

I'm writing this because within the last month an on-off heterosexual relationship I was in ended, just like Rach, I got a job at the same company as Rach, and I graduated from my degree, sitting right next to Rach on the night. I also just read this post, which moved me to respond. It has all inspired a post.

She wrote:

It's amazing how quickly love can turn you into someone you didn't want to be.

Lately I've been thinking of getting another tattoo, some words from the Great Gatsby. I can't find the exact quote right now, but it was something like 'there is only the loved and the loving, the busy and the tired.' A neat little aphorism, but one of those things that seem so true it aches. Which one are you? Which have you been? What's next?

Aches is right, Rach. I'm the loving type. I'm sure. And I was someone I didn't want to be. And my experiences over the past year have scared me... I think its how I will always be. I've been consoling myself with the hope that one day I will be in a relationship with love flowing both ways... Isn't that what it is supposed to be like? Rach says in her comments that she is becoming increasingly cynical about the nature of heterosexual relationships... I hope she is wrong, but there is a part of me that understands her completely, and that dreads the upcoming years: the pain, the mistakes I will make. But it does all feel inevitable.

Putting on my graduation robes, cracking it at my mother for playing with my hood, sitting through the ceremony... I realised how much my degree meant to me. I'm the first person in my father's immigrant side to gain a degree, and I did something I really wasn't sure I could do. And my year was both enriched and diminished by one person who in January 2006 I wouldn't have known from Adam, but by May was like a drug.

I've got so much I need to do before I become that inevitable woman Rach mentions. I have things I've got to get out. Because I will be loving, I need to give myself the time before 2 or 3 people take all my energy and I become 'tired' again.

And Rach, it was my honour to sit next to you last night at graduation, you ruled our year. My sincere congratulations, and good luck for your upcoming research. What you wrote really affected me, thank you. And if its any consolation, remember: you communicate. From your sophisticated writing to your cod tattoo, you give out messages, and that's a great advantage. And its pretty cool.

Friday, March 09, 2007

New Job...

So I found a new job. This is noteworthy for a number of reasons:

- It is my first job in 7 months.

- I am an Arts graduate. <<---- *Twilight Zone music*

- It is full-time.

- It is media-related but not "in the media" (my ideal).

- It is not advertising or marketing or sales.

- It is full of young people (albeit some kinda weird), unlike old work.

- I have to get up at 4.15am, 5 days a week. <<---- Yes, true.

- It is kind of what they call "a foot in the door."

I'm pretty happy, I'm single and working on a new wardrobe... All I need now is a share house with friends and this blog may will turn into copies of "The Secret Life Of Us" scripts.

I promise it wont.