The Spurious World of Internet Dating

Alright. I fell in love with the wrong man. Well no, I had a mighty crush on the wrong man. Well no, he was the right man but the wrong time. Well no, it was the right man at the right time but the wrong ages. So, to move onwards and upwards, re-mount the horse so to speak, I decided to try RSVP dating. Hey, it worked for Clare's flatmate although being a silf-like blonde with big boobs probably didn't do her any harm.

So it works like this. You get onto the site and build a very comprehensive profile pretty much describing yourself in vivid, and in my case, accurate detail (although I neglected mentioning arthritic knees and a neurotic personality). Then you plonk up a few photos. Then you buy a few 'Stamps' so that when someone sends you a 'Kiss' you can actually reply beyond their measured responses or you can email and begin a chat.

Now I'm no stranger to Chat. I use it to talk to you...to family...to said crush...I don't even have a phone so Skype IS my phone but there's nothing worse than getting a 'Kiss' from an index typist, you know, the ones going 'Where's the 't' on this keyboard'. I have time to make coffee, get changed and take a pee before he's replied to two lines of conversation.

So, first encounter is via chat. Nice policeman, very tall, quite handsome but has kids with him 60% of the time, talks then declares that he's actually not interested in romance just collecting conversations to fill his boring weeknights when the ex-wifey (with whom he has a wonderful relationship) has the kidlets, and all women met and chatted with, are referred to as his 'ladies'. Ba-dong! Outta there.

Then there's the 47 year old that likes oral (yes he pretty much broached that in the first half hour), 'lol's a lot and keeps sending me email notifications via RSVP at 1:30 in the afternoon when I've already told him I work behind a secure proxy server and can't get onto network, dating sites or blogs. He refuses to tell me more than his name or sexual preferences, playful and funny but will not email or Skype (oh don't worry I have 'alternative' accounts for the great unseen). Another one for the bin.

There's the lovely freelance journo who I actually did meet on a pouring wet day, although he was half an hour late when I msg'd said crush, who bless his cotton socks stayed up until I came home to make sure I was alright and to hear the predictable 'woe is me' whine - or perhaps to gloat because he thought I'd been stood up. Anyway, said journo/photographer sends so many mixed messages from 'you're lovely and terribly pretty, let's keep in touch,' through to 'I chased a woman up the north coast and it didn't work out.' My thoughts? Why is he on a dating site if he's already got a target. Rebound man who I'm still talking to but sparks? Probably not. Could end up being a decent pal tho so hope springs eternal.

Tonight however was a doozie. A rather nice military man sent me a 'Kiss'. I emailed back in the hope of chat. Clearly broken English, had a short exchange (remember he's the one that initiated contact) parted with "I have to go to the bed" and that was it. Perhaps it was my name that put him off, or the fact that I typed 50 words to his 1, since we barely had a conversation beyond, 'How long have you been on here'.  As far as I know, he's still online and shopping in the virtual meat market.

Ah well, I have six stamps which entitles me to emails to the end of January. So if Mr Right doesn't pop his head up, and Mr Goodbar doesn't kill me.... or he's able to type with more than two fingers and isn't holding a huge fish above his head as a trophy... I'm buying a dildo and listening to the sexy voice of the guy on the 'Quit Smoking' CD that I bought last year.  Now there's an image to rock your world!

Oh you really didn't think I'd go there did you?

Life As We Know It

First, apologies for being a lousy visitor and thanks to those who still bother to slip by here. I think about you often but travel there rarely. Then you know where to find me. I'm an email, Facebook and Twitter whore so no excuses.

My daughter is in South America and spending her first Christmas away, travelling next week to London to meet her boyfriend then Scotland for New Year then...Spain and who knows, her travel plans are 'fluid' to say the least but thanks to Skype I can almost keep up.  She'll be home in February and the urge to squeeze the life out of her is palpable. My boy turned 25 this year. Yep, the curly haired angelic blonde now a big boofhead with the funniest personality and the most awesome of bear hugs.

Apartment living has taken its toll and the prospect of playing acoustic drums in his living room no longer a reality. So..sell the kit and buy an electronic set which requires the use of headphones rather than the smash of wood on skin and a physically robust mother to help unload the Landscaper's gear and make the ute worthy of an instrument carrier. God bless him, gadget man is in heaven. Poverty on both sides meant no huge celebration but we did have a lovely day of cocktails, summer storms, drums and Christmas cheesy flicks. Did I tell you I love my son? Apart from the fact that he drops in and uses the last of my toilet paper, dumps 25 plants that I don't need and leaves the lid off the cordial bottle so that the ants crawl in and die a syrupy death. He is a fine young man.

Dog's well with two titanium knees.  Daughter's adventuring and badly missed Work is paying the bills. Almost. Still harbouring the dream of travelling I80 late next year  with a to boy three dogs and two cats and hopefully picking up a madman who lives in one of those states beginning with 'I' and I can't find my Christmas tree so Chez Bainbridge is a little dour but some sparkles to remind me that Christmas is only two weeks away. So...my life in a nutshell.

Sunday with Adam and the 'other' Mrs Bainbridge was lovely. French Apero and cocktails punctuated by the rubbery thud of Ads smashing the bejesus out of electronic drums and finished nicely with Baileys on ice, Citroen Tart (Lemon not a French blonde in a car) and Cheesy Christmas movies...it's the simple things that thrill. Summer has deserted us and it's 24 degrees and very, very wet.  But Christmas is coming and someone's goose is getting fat. Wising you all the very best of the season. Next post will probably be our Christmas in which we have to dress as superheroes and endure the alcoholic temptations of mad Lithuanians.  Any ideas for a quick costume that costs zip and can be run up in a day?

Things Men Have Told Me

"Can we make love now..." In a Triumph Sprite.. yeh like that's gonna happen. Is that the gear stick or are you just happy to see me?
"Fuck off... you're dead to me" Brotherly love
"You're terribly pretty" So ask me out moron
"You have a big clitoris, I like that" *no sound*
"You're not the right cultural fit" I could wear a Hijab if  you prefer it.
"Don't oversell yourself" ...because underselling is so much better
"You are lovely, intelligent, interesting and one day will make someone really happy"  Who?
"I like older women..." Thank you Mr Goodbar
"You're so aggressive" yeh well if I was a man, I'd be 'assertive', a go-getter
"Don't be needy.." because not caring is sharing
"You say what you think don't you?" You'd prefer I lie?
"I feel a bit woozy" Yeh but you're not the one in labour shitting out a watermelon!
"You're out of your futhermuckin mind." Only because you put me there
"Your skillset is extraordinary." You gonna hire me?
"Oh my. You have great breasts" Yeh my babies liked them -26 years ago
"You know you fart in your sleep?" And you don't?
"Oh this isn't good" Upon an internal examination, "This is excellent" Thank you Dr - Every girl dreams of a well healed vaginal cuff.
"I only eat here to be polite" What? After I've been to Morocco to get the ingredients to my Moosewood Cookbook?
"Can you do me a favour?" What? Babysit your dog while you take your floozie to Fiji, sure.
"You need to stop projecting..." Because my lumen is fading?
"I love you, but..." ....Oh really... stop...now
"You make the best pepper sauce.." Truth at last. My epitaph. No, really I do make an awesome pepper sauce.

Crank it punters and dance like you're going to lose your legs tomorrow....if it wasn't so funny, it would be sad

I should add that these are men over the ages...not anyone in particular. Feel fee to share some of he silliness...

Mistifiying

Well hello there!  Quite a lot has been happening which I may or may not share over coming weeks, the least of which is a 2 year contract and a pay rise (relief). The prospect of a new 'man', a daughter in South America, a son being awesome and of course the onslaught of Christmas.

Today my bestie and I wondered to the airport to drop her husband off for a golf trip with the rich and famous before descending into the world-famous (although God knows why) Bondi Beach to check out the annual Sculpture by The Sea cliff-side exhibition.  Pretty bloody good this year actually, although there was this weird inversion layer of mist over the ocean despite the high temperature. 

And joggers....who despite knowing this is a crowded cliff walk event throughout the month of November, persist in pushing their way all sweaty and sunscreened past the throng of tourists and making no effort to conceal their chagrined expressions. 

Of course there's the fashion on the beach ranging from, shall we say, gentlemen of mature age with schlongs that would be better hidden than dangling half way down their lycra clad thighs and men whose bodies would be better left covered than not.  Of course there were a few beach volley ballers that prevented yours truly from stripping down...buns so tight you could...oh never mind.  The ladies varied from teensy weensy bikini frilled nubile nymphettes to those who really shouldn't wear an organza fascinator on their sun hat.  

There was the ample plethora of bathing beauties over-tatted and over tanned. Far too many noisy Chinese women and naughty children ignoring the 'do not touch the artwork' signs and what's with covering the baby's pram with a cloth?  There's going to be an entire generation of vitamin D deprived teenagers in Australia in the next 12 years. Everyone seems to have at least two dogs, most of course are small enough to put in your pocket or ugly enough to be noticed and distract onlookers from the budgie smugglers at the end of the lead. 

And the cafes don't take credit cards unless your spend is over $20 and there's also a $2.50 surcharge? What? We living in the dark ages? Fwooooaaar.

Anyway, a guy at work said he'd been disappointed. Not me. I loved it. Although both my friend Thommo and I agree, we're over rusty steel and twisty metal.  But who can resist a smiling Asian with a perfect willy or a skeleton with a fishing rod?  Although for both of us, the real sculpture had been done by the sea, the sandstone cliffs are spectacular.

Cold water, warm air, sea mist

Yoga at Bondi Icebergs.....bags the front row

Oh herro zebra

Mutant daisy

I thought I saw a heffalump

Boring twisty metal thing and a complete tosser in the background

Beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

Impossible hole

Somebody buy those women a steak! Eating disorders on legs

Rivetting....and ribbetting

Natural sculpture....artist? The ocean

Hmmm well sculpted lifeguards

Sub mariner

Creative wood pile

Poetry in motion....love it

Harro wirry

The long and the short of it

It wasn't me Officer...

More on the flickr slide show on my sidebar if you're interested.

Birthday Blues

It's as if the fates knew. I posted this rather 'OMG I'm 55 and not dealing with it' post and the text was magically deleted as I posted photographs. I can hear one close to my heart yelling "OFFS stop whingerating." He has a point.

No. I did not have a happy birthday (although I had a pleasant one) because I'm in total denial that the woman in the mirror has any semblance to me. I am not older nor wiser. In fact I'm less knowledgeable than ever, and the older I get...the less I know. But, my children took me out for lunch on what can only be described as an awesome spring day.  Friends and family (well my sister) wished me well. I am not happy about my age or who I am right now.  I'm in the wrong time, place, century, country. Not depressed. Just aware of my situation. But...I'm alive, clothed, fed, housed, working...nothing really to complain about and I must admit that when the sun shines here... all else seems to fade.  Thank you my darlings for lunch and the gifts. Neither were necessary but both totally appreciated. I love you to distraction. You are my reason for being.

Mr and Mrs Bainbridge deciding where we should go

Ripples Milson's Point

Yes it really does look that awesome

Random Wedding . .

Sweet dessert . . is that an oxymoron

Intrepid traveller . . off again on Wednesday

Lovely homebody . . .total champion

My family . . . like diamonds . . small but precious

Single white female... rennovator's dream . . .for lease, great views

Apres Lunch barista . . .all I have is a plunger :(

I'm MIL . .

My son married the love of his 24 year old life this weekend and it was totally, totally, flawless and fantastic. Except for Aunty Rita who's handbag caught on fire . . . . Love you both to bits have a wonderful honeymoon (although they were grounded for five hours at Kingsford Smith)



Wedding Speech:

"Hi, I'm Helen, the grooms mum.

Thank you all for coming to celebrate this pretty awesome event.  Thanks too, to Alvedus and Dahlia for helping these two make this an awesomely special day.

You all look stunning. Simply stunning.

I'm very proud of Adam and Amy. They've worked hard to put this together and with no help from me and I think you'll agree everything looks gorgeous.  The food's delish and the company's not bad either. I thought it hilarious that Adam wanted a tiered cake and diamonds in his wedding ring, "Why should Amy get all the sparkles!" If I didn't know better . . . . 

We loved Amy from the moment we met her. She ticked all the boxes (yes we have a checklist for prospective daughters and sons-in-law). She was tall (very tall), beautifully dressed and coiffed. Polite, chatty, confident. There was a moment when I wondered what a scruffy boy like Adam was doing with a glamour puss like her. But like me, she saw the real Adam - funny, talented, intelligent, romantic and a guy with the same values as her.  Also a man who can scrub up well when he needs to.

I knew they were in love the minute she allowed him to mess up her hair and touch her fringe!  We affectionately referred to her as the 'fringelet' because she was so possessive of that little crop of hair that hides her beautiful eyebrows.  I knew they were in love when she managed to get him clubbing, dancing, dressing in a suit. I knew they were in love when I saw the way they snuggled on the couch, looked sad when they had to say goodbye, laughed and goofed in their photos.  I knew they were in love when he allowed her to call him 'Honey', when he took photos of his proposed outfits on his iPhone to gain her approval before they went out.  I knew they were in love watching them make pizza on Friday night. I knew they were in love when he started making his bed before Amy came round.

I'm also very proud of Adam. If pride's a sin, then sue me.  He's a kid who's grown up without a dad in the house of women, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised if he turned out to be rather effeminate. Quite the reverse, he's definitely a man's man but he's adopted the important things from living in such an environment. Besides embracing what might be called feminine arts such as cooking, he's  my Mr Fixit, my computer technician, my evening companion and my friend - He's arguably the funniest man I have ever met.  I'll miss him terribly when he's gone because I'll have to put the bins out and carry my own esky!  And God help us all if I have to learn how to drive the tractor in order to mow the lawn - You are coming home to mow the lawn?

Sadly, neither of Adam's maternal grandparents are alive to see this event. Adam's Nana died before he really had a chance to know her but he did have 14 wonderful years with his Grandpa and we're both eternally grateful for the influence that amazing man had on my lovely boy.  Two others have also had a very positive influence on him and happily they are able to be here today, Bet and Art, Adam's paternal grandparents - You've been very special people in Adam's life and now in Amy's. 

Adam, Amy, you two are made for each other. In many way's you're chalk and cheese but where it counts you're like two pieces of the same puzzle, locked beautifully together to make a whole.  Both sides of the argument, yin and yang, complementary flavours,  music and lyric, words and pictures, wind and wings. One is hopeless without the other. Together, you can soar.

I'm really awed to have you as a daughter in law Amy, although frankly, I've always felt like you were.  And I'm overwhelmed that my darling boy  has found the girl of his dreams. It's what he's always wanted.

There's a rather nice Celtic tradition and having Welsh heritage made me think of it.  The Lovespoon was the invitation to commence a romance between a boy and a girl, and the origin of the word 'spooning' .  More importantly, the spoon is symbolic for providing physical and emotional sustenance, a perfect family life and a promise to care for each other over coming years. 

It's a little smaller than I thought, I still can't measure anything properly but it's a little reminder of your heritage and a little portend of a happy future together. I wish you both only good things. Love, health, happiness . . 

Please join me in wishing them both everything wonderful for their future together. 

Can I get pissed now?"

Two Groomsmen, One Groom, One Groomschick  . . .all very rude to the photographer

Gotta get the hair right

The Double Windsor no longer a challenge

 

Had to stop off at one of the Groomsmen's sister's house for a bottle opener. He needed a calming beer

Arrived nice and early  . . . Another beer

No sign of nerves

Larking about before 'she' arrives

Ah, she's coming. . .

Yep, finally arrived

Giving her away

Mr and Mrs Bainbridge

 All Done and Dusted

 Outside the Church
 

Nibblies while they're having photos

Not quite a waltz

Dippy

Party times

He got his tiered cake. That little brown thing is the Love Spoon

After Party begins

Four degrees and they decide to swim

Cold much?

Hearty Breakfast

Gifts . . Adam's impressed with the frypan

That's as close as you get - Honeymooning in Bali