The Testimonial



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I'm here to say it - internet dating worked.

*pauses for gasps of awe and shock*

I know, it surprised me as much as anybody else. I can't believe that I could now be eligible to be on a TV ad; holding hands, splashing through water at the beach, and beaming happily, albeit slightly dementedly, whilst staring into the distance. I could totally practice a little testimonial: "And just when I thought I was destined to turn into a crazy cat-lady (once I actually got permission to own cats), I found a soulmate who balances my chi and just totally understands my allergies to certain grass specimens."

Some of you may remember my very first internet date that took place in RL (real-life, for all of you uninitiated out there), and the lad that I dubbed Tarzan (otherwise to be known as D). It turns out that even making jokes about dead bodies wasn't enough to turn this one off me.

After months of staying in contact, I went to visit D in Hobart last weekend and now it's on like Donkey Kong. We have decided to give this whole long-distance thing a go, and make our telephone network providers very happy people in the meantime.

The time in Hobart was awesomely fun. It was all just begging to be made into an Oasis Active advertisement montage: running through the rain while holding hands and giggling, eating sushi on top of Mount Wellington, chilling out in front of the fire, pulling out ridiculous items at op-shops and saying, "It's totally you"... Seriously, bring on the camera - we'd definitely be in the running for cutest damned couple ever.

I'm smitten, I'm keen, I'm in a perpetual state of swooning, and I'm coming very close to giving my nearest and dearest the shits by continually talking about D. And all of this came about because of that funny little thing they call the internet. Who'd a thunk it?

Nothing But The Truth

This is what I look like in the morning

Ever since I signed up for an online dating site, I’ve been pondering the omissions that I’ve made on my profile. I haven’t out and out lied, and put something ridiculous like, “Totally into outdoor sports, and enjoy waking up early on a weekend morning so that I can go set up a tent in the woods.”, but neither have I admitted what some may see as my downfalls. Well, you don’t, do you? It’s most unbecoming. You are, in essence, trying to sell yourself, and you don’t admit things that may possibly be contentious issues for your suitors. You leave them as fun surprises for people to find.

However, if I WERE to be honest…

About Me

Female, 25, Tasmania

I packed my car to the brim last year and moved from New South Wales to Tassie. The only thing that I forgot to pack was some people to go to gigs and restaurants and other things with.

In the morning I dislike: loud noises, talking, touching, other people. Any of the above can lead to bodily harm. I also look like I’m wearing a clown wig in the morning. This is not a joking matter.

I am a shit cook. Betty Crocker, I ain’t. Thankfully, I haven’t poisoned anybody yet (it’s hard to give people food poisoning with lentils), but there’s every chance that you’d be the first.

I swear like a sailor, and the more excited I get, the more f-bombs that leave my lips. I don’t intend for this to happen. I’m capable of switching it off for work and when I’m around old people, but catch me in a good mood when I’m in my civvies, and you may get a bit of a shock.

I think that every conversation can be improved by mentioning ninjas/zombies/monkeys/robots.

I am not above making “that’s what she said” jokes in front of your mother.

I do not find fishing/camping/bushwalking/hunting to be fun pursuits. I walk from my car to the shops. I walk around the shops. I walk back to my car. This is quite enough outdoor activity for me. I don’t mind a bit of a traipse through the bush but if it’s something that requires special footwear, I’m not interested.

I strongly believe in mobile phone etiquette, and will get on my soapbox if you cross any invisible lines in your mobile phone usage.

Seeking Criteria

I will not accept: racists, homophobes, sexists, alcoholics, people old enough to be my parents, men who show more chest than me, or men who wear sandals.

Unless I ask, I am not interested in your previous relationships. And neither do I want to help you analyse exactly where it went wrong.

Please don’t think that you’re original by saying, “I’m not staring at your boobs – I’m just looking at your piercings, hur hur hur.”

I am looking for somebody with somewhat advanced grammatical and spelling skills; somebody who can spell my name is a bonus. No, my name isn’t that hard to spell, but this HAS been an issue in the past.

I am looking for someone who enjoys engaging in conversation. I like to talk.

I am looking for someone who can take a joke. I will make fun of you at some point, and I don’t want you to have a sad attack about it.

I am looking for someone who is not a tool.

All that meet this criteria, please apply below.

For the rest of you, bugger off.

An Online Date In Real Time

Or, That Awkward Moment When You Realise That You’re A Dickhead.

There was just a point during the afternoon when I realised that I had been talking about funny youtube videos for too long. You know those “you had to be there” moments? It was possibly like that.

But hey, I didn’t get dumped in the bush somewhere. Things are looking up.

Actually, it was a lovely afternoon. I met up with… oh, let’s call him Tarzan… at a café. The café that I had chosen to meet at was closed due to the whole Easter business going on at the moment. So I spent a few minutes standing out the front of this place, ever-so-casually leaning against the wall. See how casual I am? Man, I’m casual.

We traversed to another café, where we made fun of bogans and discussed all matter of important topics.  After we ran out of important topics, we decided to go for a drive to Boat Harbour. I’ve never actually been there before, so it was a bit of an education. Turns out that there aren't really any boats there. As Tarzan remarked, there's a bit of false advertising going on there.

Tarzan and I went for a lovely walk on the rocky outcrop thing that’s there, and I pointed out a place that’d be good for dumping a body. How is it that I’m still single? I just don’t know.

After a while of trying to figure out if some birds sitting on a rock were penguins or just pseudo-penguins, we went and sat on a bench at the beach. It was really nice. The sun occasionally made itself known, and there was none of that pressure to talk. Or in my case, no pressure to further embarrass myself. We chatted about all sorts of things, and had a good laugh or two.

Then something impressive happened.

Tarzan looked to the side, and realised that somebody was actually getting married. Well, not just somebody, there were actually 2 people there getting married. I think that people have figured out that it works better if there’s more than one person there. Marriage on the beach – that’s pretty old hat, and not remarkably impressive.

What really caught our fancy is the fact that BEHIND the nearly married bliss taking place, two young teeny-bopper chicks had decided to go for a bit of a paddle. They’d taken their pants off, and waded into the water. Placing themselves (I like to think that they were unaware) strategically in the frame of the video being shot of the ceremony. They photobombed the shit out of that romantic moment.

It was so beautiful *wipes away tear*

And that was my first foray into the world of meeting people from an online dating site. It was pleasant, amusing, had a memorable romantic moment, and there were no snakes involved.

What more could you ask for?

The Story Of A Girl And A Tool

Crikey!

CHARACTERS: Sarah, an alternative and slightly misled young lady. Mr Adder, snake fanatic and somewhat socially stunted less-young man.

BACKSTORY: One night, Sarah and her lovely designated driver friend, M, were leaving a questionable club in a questionable town. Sarah was having more trouble walking in a straight line than her lovely friend. As they were leaving, Mr Adder called out goodbye to them. Sarah, sensing an opportunity to talk to somebody new, dragged M over. Mr Adder and Sarah chatted, whilst M tried to subtly indicate the lateness of the hour.

DIALOGUE: “M, check it out! He has GUNS! Are you Irish? You look Irish… Why did you say goodbye? Yeah, I thought you were Irish.”

TIME: A week or two later (later date to be indicated by pages of a calendar flipping).

SCENE: Student-style cheap Thai restaurant.

THE DATE: Having already explained that this particular restaurant had been chosen as a date venue because of its appeal to uni students on shoestring budgets, Mr Adder wined and dined Sarah (wine to be replaced with watered-down imitation Coca Cola). Mr Adder proceeded to tell Sarah about his passion for animals, specifically snakes. He also told her about himself. A lot. More than she cared to know. Sarah didn’t feel the need to speak – there wasn’t a break long enough in the conversation anyway.

Lunching finished, they went for a drive. Mr Adder took Sarah to his favourite local snake catching spots. Sarah attempted to show interest in Mr Adder’s passion, but was secretly thinking about what she’d cook for dinner. Probably 2-minute noodles. Might steam some vegies.

LATER: They pulled up on the side of a road in the bush, Mr Adder having explained that this was a great area to catch *insert name of deadly snake here*. Mr Adder ambled into the bush, and Sarah stood by the car, nervously smoking and wondering how long it would take to walk back to her car. After a minute, Mr Adder called from the bush.

“Got one!” he exclaimed.

“Oh shit”, thought Sarah.

Mr Adder walked back into view, clutching a specimen of the aforementioned dangerous snake variety. It was flailing and biting his jeans. He appeared not to notice, and kept walking towards Sarah. Sarah continued smoking.

“Look at this one! It’s so FEISTY! I haven’t seen one this feisty before…” he said.

“Uh……..”

“Come and look at it! Have you seen a snake this close before?”

“It seems to be biting you.”

“So FEISTY!”

“Can you say crikey?”

“CRIKEY!”

“Haha….. um…….”

“I’m going to have to take this back to the uni. I’ve never seen one this feisty before. She just keeps going! Look, she’s biting me! Can you check in the back of the car for a sack?”

So Sarah, panicking and rifling through his car, found a sack and went to walk towards him. She stopped suddenly, realising that her thongs and skirt weren’t appropriate snake wrangling clothes. Nor was she an appropriate snake wrangler.

She attempted a girly throw, and the sack landed on the barbed wire fence separating them. Mr Adder came forward, and tried to put the snake into the sack. The snake, feisty and pissed off, did not comply. Over the course of a couple of minutes, Mr Adder and the snake engaged in a battle of the wits (the snake gaining the upper hand all too often). Sarah wondered if hitchhiking was really all that dangerous. It was daylight, surely it would be fine.

Having gotten the snake to submit to his will, Mr Adder walked towards the car, and found some cord to tie the sack up with. Mr Adder placed the bag behind the passenger seat in the car (indeed, the seat that Sarah would have to sit in, in order to get back). They drove back to Sarah’s car, with Sarah sure that something kept brushing up against her elbow, and not knowing which was more worrying – the possibility that it was the snake, or the possibility that it was Mr Adder.

MORAL OF THE STORY: In light of my social experimentation (online dating), I may possibly go on a date at some stage. A real-life date. With people and stuff. If the date seems to be going badly, I’m not going to settle for a mediocre bad date. If you’re going down, go for broke and go down in flames, clutching snakes and screaming about cheap food. Unless you top that story, I will not be impressed.

THE END

PLEASE NOTE: This sparkling, romantic moment actually happened a couple of years ago. This is not a recent event - I've had time to work my way through the trauma, and no longer get Vietnam-type flashbacks if I hear somebody say "Crikey!".

Is That A Rocket In Your Pocket?

It’s been just over 3 weeks since I joined *insert generic internet dating site here*, and so far it’s been interesting. I’m learning things not only about others, but about myself as well. Granted, they’re things like the fact that I find it difficult to take people seriously when they start a conversation with the words, “So, you’re really hot.” I take pity on them – of course I’ve uploaded the better photos of me. And of course I’ve taken care to put a photoshop action on it so that my complexion appears slightly smoother than it otherwise would. You should see me right now, sitting here in my daggy around-the-house shorts, and my bed hair, with yesterday’s makeup smudged underneath my eyes. See how you like them apples.

I’m up to the stage where I’ve perused numerous profiles (and wondering why this website matched me up with somebody with the words “Aussie pride” in their screen name. Ew, ew, ew, no.) and I’m chatting to people on a regular basis.

I’ve realised that my sense of humour (I’m using that term loosely) doesn’t necessarily translate well onto on-screen chatting, ie. I don’t think things through before typing and hitting enter. For example, there’s a lovely person that I’ve been chatting to. I’m rather enjoying these chats. In an effort to get to know him better, I’m asking questions such as his hobbies, favoured meals, and his surname. When he showed reticence towards telling me his surname, I asked if he’d been stalked before. He answered in the affirmative, and I proceeded to make jokes about stalkers, following it with, “…Not that I’M a stalker. Ahahahaha.”

Likewise, there are things that other people do that I don’t appreciate. Like I mentioned in one of the last blog posts, I’ve come across a few people fishing for compliments. “What do you think of my profile pic?” To this I’m just tempted to answer that I think they should have chosen a better background than their bathroom tiles. Or that if they think they’re conveying a pensive face, they actually look like they’ve recently sustained bodily harm.

Also, don’t make fun of me because I sew. Make fun of me because I scrapbook, sure, but leave the sewing out of it. I don’t make fun of you for being a douche.

It’s getting to the point where a couple of people have mentioned possibly meeting up at some point (and not even in a hotel room – I AM a lucky girl), but I am yet to have a face-to-face encounter. I look forward to this, if for no other reason than to have another bad date anecdote to astound my friends with. I like to entertain others.

Come Here Often?

I have an admission to make - I've joined an online dating site.

*pause for stunned silence*

When I first moved here, I was all gung-ho about meeting new people, and you know... getting out of the house. Since that time, I've met a group of rad gals, started having stalls at the Made With Love Market Bazaar, and done other stuff. I became complacent about meeting more people, because, well... there's only so many cool people that my brain can take.

However, once I went back to Sydney and remembered what it's like to go out on a regular basis, I want more. MORE! And what is an efficient way to meet lots of people, and try and weed out the toolbags in the process? Why, that would be internet dating.

*pause for gasps of awe*

One of the things I like about this method is that I get to fully embrace any superificiality that I may have. It turns out that I have a lot of it. Too short? Denied. Enjoy wood-spinning? Denied. Can't spell? Denied.

It reminds me of one of my favourite Scrubs quotes:

Carla: What does your heart tell you?
JD: My heart hates uggo's.

Cruel, but funny. And ever so slightly true.

I take a delicious glee in reading profiles and laughing. I read a cracker of a profile today, and this guy was talking about how modest he is. And charming. And charismatic. And fit. So fit. His modesty ran on for several paragraphs, and it was like watching a car crash. Every sentence hurt me more, but I just couldn't stop reading. Or laughing.

There's an apparent lack of awareness about capitalisation, spelling and grammar (you know, those things that them posh people get into), and this bothers me but also makes me take a vicarious pleasure from having read your profile and dismissed you because of it. I will not accept cheap imitations.

Another thing that causes instant dismissal is wanting to treat "your lady like a printcess" (that person was so damned close to spelling princess right). Firstly, I swear too much to be considered a lady. Secondly, there are far too many guys out there wanting to treat someone like a princess. Tiaras don't suit me, pointy hats aren't my thing, and... well, I'm not a damned princess.

I also think that more people need to put a bit of thought into their screen names. goodlover105 was obviously already so aware of his own skills, that he didn't need me to tell him. As for anybody with the word "horny" involved in their name - I'm not even good with seeing public displays of affection. That is WAY too much information for me.

So far, it's been interesting, and I'm only a few days into it. There have already been toolbags doing their toolbaggy thing in my direction, but I kindly said a few sharp words, and deleted them from my contacts.

If only it was that easy in real life.

Stay posted for more internet misadventures.... Do you have any advice about this? Or your own success/epic fail stories?