Letting 'em down gently

Look, I know I’ve banged on a lot about dating lately. Next week I promise to write about something else, like alfresco sex or the lure of chunky man hands. But please bear with me while I explore the tricky conundrum of letting your date down gently.
We’ve all been there; out with a nice, friendly, interesting person… who you’re just not into. It’s worse when the feeling isn’t mutual. I usually contemplate going to the bathroom and climbing out the window so as to avoid the inevitable but unanswerable, ‘can we do this again soon?’ question, while he’s working up the courage to ask just that.
Dates where you both loathe the sight of each other are a cinch. OK, it’s two hours of your life you’ll never get back, but there are only so many bathroom windows a girl can fall out of before she gets a reputation.
Naturally, everyone’s got an opinion on the best way to let someone down gently. Take my friend Dominic. He believes in the Lie Then Disappear approach, during which I should help the date save face by saying, ‘Sure! I’ll ring you and we’ll set up a time!’ then give the guy the real message by never making contact again.
Maggie, however, is an advocate for blunt honesty and has two let-down catchphrases: ‘It was great to meet you, what a shame there’s no chemistry!’ and, ‘A second date? That’s sweet but I’m putting my energies into finding a partner right now’.
I love both, but so far haven’t had the guts to say either.
No, I’m devising a hybrid technique, which would involve saying, ‘A second date? Sure!’, rapidly followed up with an email about how I’m not over my ex / am jaded by the dating scene / have just broken both legs and can’t go out for six weeks etc etc.
After all, you’ve got to have a game plan for when the bathroom’s three floors up.

*** Got a good let-down line? As you can see, I need all the help I can get.

I can’t stand it when you…

Shacking up with a squeeze can be really exciting.
No longer do you have to pack and re-pack an overnight bag, avoid bumping into flatmates semi-conscious and semi-dressed on your way to the bathroom or write your name on fridge items. As a co-habiting couple, you can look forward to walking around naked, sharing wok duties and having un-limited access to smooching, sex and snuggling. Plus, it’s a great way to announce your commitment as a couple – without having to trip down the aisle or actually buy property. So – for a few months – everything seems peachy. You’re both trying hard not to let the side down and expose your fondness for eating peanut butter out of the jar with your index finger or shaving your legs in the living room watching Sex and the City re-runs. But, after a while, things slip and before you know it, you’re having ‘that chat’. The one about how much you’re driving each other crazy on the domestic front. In my last relationship, my ex had a few pressing items on his agenda. One – was that I simply could not continue to stack the dishwasher in the manner I had been for the past twenty years – haphazardly and without forward planning. Two – he simply could not stand the way I left my toast or sandwich fixings out on the bench while I ate my snack. These things must be cleared up immediately. And – here’s the kicker – three was that he could not be expected to service my sexual needs every night of the week. It was wearing him out. Two to three times a week was a reasonable amount for us to ‘git busy. Hmmmmn. One of these things is not like the others. Perhaps because he was the only flatmate I had ever shared a bed with, and I was new to the game, I accepted these terms and conditions. But should I have stood my ground? Are house rules really the path to domestic bliss?

Tell me: Have you set house rules or been asked to change your ways when you started living with a new flame? Do share…

Oops, I did it again

There’s something delicious about first dates. You’re both nervous, talking at once and apologising and laughing too loud; touching accidentally and apologising and wondering if those little jolts are a good sign. Wondering if he wants to kiss you, wondering if he’s ever going to kiss you, wondering if you should kiss him, arriving at the moment you actually lock lips for the first time and realising that good first kisses, like all firsts, should be bottled and sold for a sum you couldn’t possibly afford. In fact, in a world where bad boys and break-ups can be more painful than childbirth, a good first date is the sweetest thing. (Even if you don’t look like Cameron Diaz.)
But does it matter if your first date doesn’t follow the rules? What if you aim to have lunch and be back home by 4pm but find yourself swept up in the chemical rush of all those first date hormones? What if, like Drew Barrymore, you end up with amnesia and your entire marriage becomes a first date? Is it really wrong to have so much fun you decide you’ll have the second, third, fourth and fifth date all on the same night, thanks? Am I the only reality chick in the world who campaigns heavily for the two-hour first date rule, only to drop the ball when I arrive at Practice-What-You-Preach Land?
I’m hoping someone else has the answers on this, because my last two first dates definitely broke a few rules. The first lasted a week (but that’s another story) and the last: a kinda kooky but utterly memorable 24 hours that’ll go down in date history. (I blame it all on the fortune cookies, but that’s definitely another story.)
So ‘fess up. Your best first date, and if you must, your worst. I’m waiting…

About last night

The champagne’s flat, the canapé trays are licked clean and singletons all over Sydney are waking up in strange beds. Oh, there’s nothing like the morning after... an anti-V Day Singles party.
Yes, folks, Valentine’s Day has left the building, and I for one couldn’t be happier. In fact, most people I talk to, whether attached or single, breathe a sigh of relief once the pink card pressure is off for another year.
I can’t, however, let my wrap-up go without mentioning last night’s entertainment. Let me just say this: sobriety, broad daylight and pole dancing aren’t a great mix – especially when free lessons are on the table and women in dresses flock to the pole to master the leg spread. Nothing like showing off your best assets! Meow.
That said, V Day is what you make it, whether you’re on a hot dinner date with a guy you’ve only known for days – or competing with your partner in a bad taste card contest.
Nothing bites more, though, than what happened to a gorgeous singleton I know who decided against the Anti-V Day bash. She opted instead to order takeaway and enjoy a night at home on the couch, content in the knowledge that she’s young, hot and will most probably be shagging her new boyfriend this time next year. Then she opened the mail and found a wedding invitation from her ex. Ouch.
Soooooo... how was your night?

Valentines, scmalentines...pass the vodka.

Years of watching V Day come and go have taught me one or two things, especially when you’re attached. One: there’s nothing like receiving flowers at work. Two: Most women, no matter how much they protest that it doesn’t mean anything, that it’s a commercial rort etc, secretly want flowers at work.
For singletons, V Day is a war of attrition. After a month of pink cards in every newsagent and restaurants pushing dinners for two, you can let it wear you down to a snivelling puddle on the floor – or you can do something about it. Like the time I decided to pen a poem (admittedly a very bad one) to the flirty Irishman who worked at the café near my office. Feeling courageous, I put my number in the card, he called and we had the craziest Valentine’s night ever, complete with a Darling Harbour snogging session that I (and I’m sure many onlookers) will never forget.
My worst wasn’t actually so bad. I was at a Desperate and Dateless Ball and instead of meeting the man 'o my dreams, I made two girlfriends (and no, not in a Playboy kind of way). We all thought our matched dates were huge dorks and we ditched them and ended up drinking wine coolers and dancing to bad 80s music. They are still my friends (but I can’t for the life of me remember my date that night).
Big once told Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha: ‘Let's face it. You girls are the loves of Carrie's life’ – and he was right. A good female friendship will outlast most of the boys we meet along the way.
But my most consistent Valentine? The person who has relentlessly sent me cards and left chocolates and written notes declaring they’ll love me for forever and ever... no matter what I do? My mum. Awwwww.
Got a good V-Day story? Let's hear it....

I Loke You

Sometimes you’re at a place in a newish relationship where it’s gone beyond “Like” but it’s not quite blossomed into “Love.” This, according to the Urban Dictionary is called “LOKE.” The official definition is: “Deep affection towards your significant other which is stronger than like, yet not as strong as love. “I'm in loke with you.”
A certain Sydney radio show had a bloke on recently to tell his girlfriend he really loked her. After getting him to repeat it, the girl said, "Huh?" What the hell does loke mean? After he explained the word, she laughed and said, "Okay, I loke you too honey." Seems like the sweet nothing was perfect for these two lokebirds.
Loke does seems like a great way to get through that awkward, few-months-in stage where you really dig your new squeeze, but you’re not ready to plunge into "I love you" territory. But, on the other hand, isn’t it the definition of sitting on the fence? Move over Marcia Hines… the land of Loke is where the not-quite-committed go to buy a bit more time.
Who wants to be told that their significant other hasn’t quite graduated to the love stakes and is forced to use some made-up hybrid word? Isn’t it just the ultimate consolation prize for the person receiving loke?
Tell me… what would you do if you’re significant other told you they "loked" you? Would you ever use the word loke?

My, what big teeth you have!

Generally, I’m not into laughing at other people’s misfortune. But last week, I just couldn’t help it. I’ve been reading The Rules, a controversial 1990s self-help book which bangs on about playing hard to get in order to bag your man. It’s a haughty little dating manual co-written by a formerly smug married called Ellen Fein, who spouts off about how, if you’re hard to get, your man will never leave you / cheat / go on benders / naughty boys’ weekends / badmouth you to his mother etc etc.
I say formerly because it seems Ellen did not factor bad dentistry into the equation. She’s currently fighting a lawsuit after trying to extort money from her dentist, alleging that the abnormally large teeth he gave her led to the breakdown of her marriage. I can’t think how – in fact I don’t want to think about how – but it did start me pondering the end of my last relationship.
As dumpers and dumpees will know, pondering for too long soon morphs into a pity party of excessive proportions. It’s not often I give in to these things – after all, the ex and I crashed and burned because he wanted to live a double life and I didn’t – but on this particular afternoon, I quickly spiralled into brooding about all the other relationships I’ve had and why they ended and all the other relationships in the world and why THEY ended and … well, let’s just say the evening ended with lots of vodka and All By Myself from the Bridget Jones album playing loud and on repeat.
On that note, please tell me how your last relationship bit the dust. Especially if it involves abnormally large teeth.

Sleep talking

We’ve all been there. Lying in bed after your first night with your new beau, his arm slung casually over you, basking in the afterglow of a good romp. It should be the recipe for sweet dreams right? Nuh-uh. For many of us, getting used to a new body in bed is pure torture. Maybe he takes up all the mattress and snores like a sick walrus or perhaps he’s one of those ‘cuddle up tight’ people who likes to fold you tortilla style into his moist chest. Eeeek! In any case, it’s not like in the movies where the gal snuggles into the chest of her man and wakes up well rested eight hours later without a hair out of place. Can you recognize yourself in some of these common problem sleep scenarios?

The Spooner
Your partner likes to wrap you as tight as a spring roll in this cozy cuddle. Then he falls into a deep sleep, leaving you trapped.
What it means: He’s not afraid to be intimate.
Solution: The Houdini escape. Lift up his arm and wiggle out of his embrace once he has lost consciousness.

The Starfish
This guy likes to take up THE WHOLE BED. Leaving you with just a sliver.
What it means: He’s asserting his dominance or is used to sleeping alone.
Solution: Get pushy. Roll him over, poke him in the back and stake your mattress claim. Ditto for the doona stealer.

The Face Off
This guy likes to get as close to your face as possible, practically touching noses, and will often clutch you to his neck.
What it means: He wants to prove his closeness to you.
Solution: Give his face a loving stroke, then flip over and move to your side of the bed.

Tell me! Are you having sweet dreams with your lover? What’s your sleep style?