Cinderella Story

I realized something the other day when I was talking to a friend in the UK over Skype.

I'm lonely and the black dog is waiting in the back garden, just waiting for his chance to get inside; a crack in the door, an open window.

There has been a sequence of events that have led me to this conclusion.

The first being; the embracement of the animal welfare movement. While I've always been pro-animal rights, I've not felt strongly enough about anything to get involved, to march or protest. Once I'd got involved I met some lovely people with a healthy need to help our four legged friends, others with a not so healthy need to help bordering on obsessive. This led my Facebook wall being inundated with invitations, calls to foster, videos that made me ball my eyes out and mild abuse for sharing and consequently, not sharing. I culled my friends list.

Not before the Millie incident though.

I came to the conclusion from that, that one small dog with very few needs (except snuggles) is all I need and can handle on the canine front. Going out to work five day a week leaves little room for a dog with separation anxiety issues.

Knowing this, I found I could help dogs find homes by taking pictures for the rescue groups, but this meant going to the pound. And they don't just have dogs at the pound.

I find myself poopy scooping for five cats at the moment. I fostered four, adopted one. because I went to the pound. Don't get me wrong I'm glad to do my bit to help these creatures find worthy homes but I now know, I acknowledge, I did it because I'm lonely and I was looking to fill that void in my heart.

I’m lacking the companionship that comes with being in a relationship. While a little nookie would be nice, it’s the other more mundane activities that it would nice to share. Digging the garden, having someone hold the ladder while i change the light bulbs, going to the movies, wandering around, going for a drive or sharing a meal. The simple everyday things.

Most of my friends are loved up, in relationships with kids. The one person I’d dearly love to spend that quality everyday time with lives on a different continent and shows no signs of moving back to Australia anytime soon. I’ve been hanging out for that to happen for a couple of years now, unable to move on due the feelings I have. Deep feelings that go to the very core of me. The other day I felt those feelings lessen. I’m not sure what was said, what’s been done or not done that has caused this, but the heart strings are being tugged just a little less.

I’ve tried to date over that time in an attempt not to wait, but I always find myself looking across the table, looking at my date and thinking, ‘but you’re not Mr. Right’. I had thought I’d found Mr Right, but maybe I was wrong. I find dating hard as most of my friends are attached and rarely go out, internet dating has proved to be a bust (do I smell, even online) and I find as soon as Aussie men find out I’m well educated and reasonably successful in my chosen field they run as far as their tatty trainers will carry them.

Maybe I have found Mr. Right, but the human desire for companionship is getting the better of me. Driving me forward after not seeing him for nearly a year. Driving me into the arms of another (when I find another). But would it be unfair to the other? I’ve never found anyone that fills the shoes of Mr. Right in quite the same way. They just don’t fit.

This is my dilemma. I’m lonely beyond belief but I find myself snuggling at home amongst the furkids hoping that one day, my prince will turn up and slip his foot into a perfect fitting shoe.

Giving Love The Slip

The evening of St. Valentines Day started with Sushi at the Harbourside Sushi Train. The choice was a bit slim on the fastest train in the west, but that may have been due to it not being quite six o’clock when we started. By the time we left all the good stuff was coming out, but Edna and I were full. Five plates plus Miso and a green tea is fine, anymore would just be piggy!

We arrived at the Slip Inn just after seven. As we entered the building we were given a sticker with a number on it. We had been marked with the Shag Tags. The idea behind this is, send a text message to the Number provided, the message appears on the screen and hopefully you pull. We pulled our first glass of free champagne and found a seat over looking the beer garden.

Being the critical bitches that we are, Edna and I came to the conclusion that there was a good reason some of the people there. We had our second glass of champagne and started talent spotting. We came to the realisation pretty quickly that it really was a good thing that neither of us where there to pull.

A change in vantage point didn’t make the desperation in the room any less …well…desperate! So we settled in and watched the screens sending their messages out to the world. Some were funny, some were so old they had cobwebs and others were so English.

:-)Well h-e-l-l-o boys, from xxxx
:-)That cigarette burn really hurt you idiot!
:-)My shag tags better than yours, it's red for a start. Come and see xxx
:-)1206 Your hot!
:-)Fancy a foursome come see xxx
:-)Virren, Virren, What kind of a name is that? Where your parents hippies or summit?
:-)You must be from outta space, 'cause I can see stars in your eyes
:-)do you have a map cause I keep getting lost in your eyes
:-)2 guys required for a bang contact xxx
:-)do you have any raisins, if not fancy a date?
:-)Im from the FBI the Fabulous Body Inspectors, assume the position!
:-)apart for being sexy what do you do for a living
:-)1241 you have big balls
:-)Roses are red. Violets are blue. I have an xxx and now 801, so do you too
:-)You must be going to hell cause it’s a sin to look so good
:-)Who let the dogs out and why are they all at the Slip Inn

We got chatted up too, even though we were clearly making no effort. A pair a travelling Scotsmen asked Edna for a blow job, she kindly declined on the grounds of having only known them for ten minutes. When asked if she would consider it later she phrased the dismissal slightly harsher.

I was targeted by a short bullish guy from Johannesburg wearing a red FBI shirt. He kept coming back even after I told him I was married, now that dedication to getting laid. He left about 11 ‘cause he had to get up early for work. I really didn’t need to know that!

Edna and I left about half midnight along with all the other desperados when they closed the bar. We walked up to the Three Monkeys for a night cap, had one, but the Hungry Jacks across the street called to us with its siren song, promising flame grilled burgers and fries.

All in all a good night was had. I got to see how the single life could be and Edna got to be sad and ever so slightly depressed by the amount of non-gay-talent in Sydney. Both of us suffered from multiple-apoplexy from the terrible spelling and grammar usage in text messages.

This morning I’m feeling a tad over hung and have drunk two cups of tea to counteract the effects of the late night fries.

(633 words)

UPDATED : 20:09 15-2-07

I should have mentioned this earlier, but the entry was already moohosive, but it’s been bugging me that I left it out, so here it is.

When the free champagne ran out, Edna and I decided to continue drinking it so, of course we had to start paying for it. After a bit of confusion between Edna and the Barmaid, two glasses of the fizzy stuff sat before us with a demand for $12. Edna gave her a $20 note and got $6.40 change. Not normally the change for twelve dollars, so we tried to work out if we had missed heard her, and figured she'd confused the 20cent pieces for dollar coins. Maybe we had missheard her request for money...after all twelve and thirteen sixty sound alike don't they?. So we asked ourselves what rhymes with twelve?

The next round was mine and I was paid $13.60, the next round was also $13.60

Henceforth, $13.60 will be known as Schwelve!