Society

Unwarranted dating advice and other reflections

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Everyone is an expert on relationships and dating. Whether they’re single (by choice or otherwise), in a relationship (happy or otherwise) or dating just like you, everyone is an expert.

Here is a list of some of the advice, reflections (by no means exhaustive) that people share with me on a regular basis:

  • If you are looking for a relationship you won’t find one.
  • Put yourself out there.
  • Don’t hook up.
  • If you sleep with them too soon they will lose interest.
  • Don’t go on too many dates.
  • We met once overseas and were long distance for two years. He’s the love of my life.
  • Make sure you don’t appear desperate.
  • You cannot be looking for love, once you stop looking it will just come. It’s so easy.
  • There are plenty of others out there.
  • We started off a fuck buddies and now we’re married.
  • I told him we were just friends and after a year I realised he was what I was looking for.
  • Long distance never works.
  • I rushed in because he seemed like the right choice and ticked all the boxes but that wasn’t it. He wasn’t what I needed.
  • Hooking up is fine.
  • I had zero interest in going on a date with this person at first. But after a few times hanging out I realised there was something special.
  • Don’t use dating apps, meeting people from real life is always better.
  • If you’re not feeling it on the first date, don’t bother going on a second one.
  • Fuck men!
  • Why do you want a relationship for?
  • I would never go out with someone who approached me in person. So weird.
  • Not everyone finds someone.
  • No one person will tick all your boxes, compromise is important.
  • Love isn’t enough.
  • If they’ve been single for too long, it’s a red flag.
  • I will never do a relationship again.
  • Maybe I can find someone for you.
  • But you’re happy by yourself. You don’t need anyone.
  • You’re too independent, guys won’t feel like you need them.
  • Monogamy is a lie.
  • Half of the people in relationships are miserable and only stay in them because they can’t stand being alone.
  • You need to learn to ne happy on your own before you will find someone.
  • Smile more.
  • Stop putting up walls.
  • You need to look more approachable.
  • We fell in love when he was still married.
  • Don’t just tell someone you’re interested in them, they’ll freak out.
  • Maybe you still have feelings for your ex?
  • It just kind of happened. We did nothing ‘right’, there are no rules.
  • People who say they are only looking for a serious relationship are often the least ready for one.
  • Never go for someone who is in a relationship or married.
  • He was a drunken hookup, we have been together since.
  • No one is too busy, you’re just not a priority.
  • If they cancel without rescheduling, move along.
  • Give them a chance. You never know what they’re going through.
  • You aren’t going to find someone with that attitude.

Everyone is right and wrong at the same time. Reflections on one’s own experience can be helpful, even comforting.

Most advice comes in the form of regurgitated, broad brush statements which are generally terrible and unwarranted.

Is there a right way or a wrong way? Probably not.

Every one of the above statements would be accurate in some way. They would be true to the person making them but potentially irrelevant to anyone else.

Why am I writing this? It’s so common sense is it not? Well, for me it is cathartic and it helps clear the noise in my head.

You date and have all kinds of bizarre and disappointing encounters and eventually you begin to question yourself. You begin to wonder if you are the problem. So you put everything out in front of you and you realise, no – it’s not me. I may not be perfect but I’m doing my best and I’m learning each time.

Window

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In the mornings when I swim, before I get into the pool I look up at the apartments around me. Crowding around like still giants.

Sometimes I sit there for who knows how long and I pick a window, even though I can’t see much of what or who is inside I imagine their world and their life.

Each window has a story. It’s always morning and someone is going to work.

They use the same lights I do but they probably have a toaster which I don’t have. I use the grill, too much clutter with a toaster.

Today, this guy is going to work, he’s eating dry toast and watching the news while he drinks a milky coffee. The apartment smells like toast. The TV volume is low and the bedroom door is closed- someone is still sleeping.

Who is it? Maybe it’s his wife or boyfriend. What if he’s divorced and this is the day he has custody of his daughter?

Shouldn’t she be getting up for school though? Maybe it’s school holidays. Is it? I can’t even remember.

He looks out the window and thinks about his day ahead. All those meetings to get through until the end of the day.

I wonder if his job is stressful? Does it pay well?

The guy takes a swig of coffee and another bite of the crunchy toast. He’s dressed a bit more nicely than usual because he’s going out after work. I wonder where he’s going?

Would he give me a second look if he passed me in the street? Have we ridden the elevator at the same time before?

I turn my attention back to the room and see the bedroom door opening slowly. An older woman comes out in a nightie. He looks up and says one word but I can’t make it out. He doesn’t smile.

Is that his mother? Or is he just into older women? Could even be his sister. Not everything has to be sexual.

She frowns at him but still heavy with sleep doesn’t have the energy to do much more.

The toast smell is going into the bedroom now with the door wide open. The older woman shuffles over to the kitchen before grabbing a white mug, starts making herself a coffee but stops short of pouring the hot water and milk in.

She pauses for a moment, looking up and sighs before shuffling back into the bedroom and closing the door.

Did they have a fight? They seem to be going through something awkward. I hope he isn’t hitting her.

The man leaves his plate, mug with some coffee at the table. Does he really expect her to clean it up? Typical.

He puts on his shoes, picks up a sorry looking leather suitcase before walking out the door. I hear the slam and it seems signify the end of this little story.

They real occupants will never know that I was imagining their lives and I’ll never know what their real lives are like.

I come back into myself and blank for a moment. I’m exhausted. Looking up at the window once more. I can’t physically see any of what I just saw in my mind.

I need to swim.

I don’t hesitate a moment longer and slip into the cool, calm water.

Lopsided

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We are in one of those public halls sitting on uncomfortable foldable chairs in a circle. Gloria next to me has just finished talking about her experience and I feel the anticipation of the facilitator introducing me to the group. In fact, I nearly jump the gun and a sound only audible to me comes up my throat, bounces around my mouth but doesn’t go any further than that.
Phew! That was close, I nearly let that one out. I smile to myself as I focus on the floorboards at my feet. Light beach in colour, they would have been polished once but the money probably ran out.

“Tim, would you like to share your experience with us today?” The facilitator says as he looks towards me. The eyes of the rest of the group follow his gaze.
I’m feeling jumpy and excited. I was expecting this moment but I didn’t expect it now. Well…I did but I guess not like this.
I smile “Oh, yes please.”
The group waits and looks on in silence. I like to leave a bit of a pause before I start because it calms me. I open my mouth and my story starts coming up my throat, through my mouth and out into the room.

So, I was at work, a typical Tuesday. You know, Monday has passed but you still have so much to do and the weekend still seems like an impossibility.
I’m sitting at my desk staring at the screen, it was about 10:15, no – actually it was 10:17, I remember because I looked at my phone and I saw a notification that made me head off to the toilet to open it in privacy. You know, one of those messages. I used to get a lot of those.
I looked at the number seven and thought damn, that’s a bad luck number in some countries. It means death; kind of like our unlucky 13. I got up, locked my screen and walked out of the office area and into the side hallway.
The disabled toilet was occupied so I just went to the regular toilet, entered one of the free cubilces and checked the message. The photo wasn’t even’t that bad, I could have looked at it at my desk but in hindsight I’m actually glad I didn’t because then I wouldn’t have realised that it was happening.
I left the cubicle and went into the next room to wash my hands. From there I looked up to check my hair. Hair was fine, so I started checking the rest of my face.
That’s when I first noticed it. Right then.
At first I thought maybe the mirror was warped – my face looked distorted. I got closer and looked at my features; one of my eyebrows had moved up close to my hairline and my right nostril was drooping.
No.
No.
No.
I moved to the next mirror, same thing – I recoiled and felt panicky.
Was it happening to me? It couldn’t be. I was sure I hadn’t come into physical contact with anyone who it happened to. But then, that’s what we thought at the time – we know now that it’s not spread like that.
I remember touching my face and feeling what I had seen in the mirror. As I felt my face, even more of it had moved and by that point I was too scared to look.

I knew I had to leave, but I didn’t know where I would go, if I went back into the office they would know. If I went onto the street I would surely be collected.
To be honest, I must have been so shocked I didn’t notice Russell walk out from the toilets. He must have seen me and alerted my team.
I was getting messages on my phone but I couldn’t respond to any of them.
The dinner that evening was no longer a possibility. In fact my life as I knew it was about to become an impossibility.
Then came the knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Tim, are you in there?” The voice belonged to Darren who was my senior.
“Yeah…” I remember responding.
No one knocks to enter the toilets. He knew.
“Everything okay in there?” He sounded worried. He knew.
“Oh…umm…yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.” I said as I looked back at the mirror. It was getting worse.
“Mate…I think you should stay in there. Russell saw you. Just stay there, we’re going to get you some help.”
That was it. I knew I was going to be collected.
“Oh…okay…” was all I could get out.
I couldn’t believe it. What would they all be saying? I bet everyone was talking about me now from the safety of their desks. 
That’s when I snapped.
You know something? I was always to nice to everyone. I put up with other people’s shit. I always followed the rules. Now that I had it, they were going to take me away. None of it mattered. 
They smiled at me everyday and had empty conversations with me but as soon as this started happening to me, they couldn’t wait to have me collected. Everything was a goddman joke. 

From there it got a little fuzzy but all I know is that disobeyed what Darren said and I ran right out of there. I made sure I touched him on the way out, and Russell too.
I don’t know how far I got but I eventually got collected.
How long was I locked up? Beats me! It could have been weeks, months or even years.

The collective spotlight of the groups gaze is still on me. A few others nod with their distorted features. Some eyes blink out of sync and saliva drips out of gaping mouths. “And thats when I became lopsided.” I finish off and wait for the applause as my eyes track down again to the shabby floor boards. They still don’t shine.

Me/You

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I don’t think I wanna do that.
Just be more open.

What the fuck are you doing?
You know you like it, you’re a slut.

I don’t like it when you spit on me.
Come on, it’s hot.

Please don’t hit me like that again
Don’t be so boring.

It really hurts.
Just a little longer baby, it feels so good. Please.

Please, I’m tired.
Don’t worry, you don’t need to do anything.

I’m not feeling it.
Fucking hell, what did you think we were gonna do? 

Don’t leave any marks.
Why? You don’t want your other guys to know?

I’m exhausted.
Arch your back. DOWN!

Did you take it off?
Come on baby, it feels so much better. Don’t you want my load?

No one’s really interested in me apart from a hook up.
You seem like the type who would cheat though.

Can we please use a condom?
What, you’re not clean? I am.

I couldn’t fucking breathe!
Sorry baby, I’m really sorry.

Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry about it.
Oh, you didn’t cum? I guess I can finish you off if you want.

 

7:13 am

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I get to the platform with 2-3 minutes spare and take my usual place between the right side of the ticket barrier and the toilet block.

The mother who wears adidas originals as her comfy commuting shoes is standing and chatting with her three daughters who are already exceeding her in height.

They laugh and always seem to look my way as I take my place.

The two guys a little closer to the ticket barrier stand right near the edge of platform and seem to be talking business as usual. The look like they really know what they’re talking about and will likely tell you that you’ve got it wrong.

The train pulls up and today it’s one of the old Comeng trains that might be retrofitted.

I hop on and everyone is there doing their usual thing.

The two guys have gotten onto the carriage next to me but the mother and girls get on my carriage and stand slightly over from the door which is going to be opening every stop until North Melbourne.

The young, shorter guy who always wears shorts and no socks with his shoes but a down jacket is on his phone, probably looking through Facebook leaning against the door on the side of the train where the doors won’t open.

I pull out my kindle and start reading my book and usually I’m on the side of the train where the doors don’t open, preferably against a wall but that’s prime real estate which is usually all but gone by the time the train pulls in to Moonee Ponds.

At Ascot Vale about three friends of the school girls get on and they all greet the mother who slowly steps back as the circle opens, the new arrivals join and she takes a step back. The mother is now going to spend the rest of the time I’m on the train looking in as an outsider while her daughters start talking about a world far from her own. Every now and then the mother will try to make eye contact with someone in the circle before pulling her phone out to play candy crush or some Harry Potter mobile game.

One day, one day.

At Newmarket the girl with olive skin gets and assumes her usual power stance in the middle of the carriage. This girl gets on the same connecting train with me at North Melbourne. She generally doesn’t take her backpack off even when the train is crowded and for that I’m kind of not a fan.

At Kensington the young boy gets on with either his mother or father. They both carry his bag for him while he looks out the window of the train door and rattles out observations about the pattern of train departures from North Melbourne. The school bag his parents carry is nearly as big as him.

At North Melbourne a bunch of us get off and proceed up the stairs. It’s always the guy with the shorts, no socks with shoes and the olive skin girl who end up on the same platform with me, the others continue on the loop.

Just as I get to the top of the escalators, like clock work the young guy with some kind of physical disability is making his way along the rail of the concourse before heading down.

There’s never enough room on the middle escalators so you can’t really stand to the left or people get annoyed as they rush for their trains bound for Southern Cross or Flinders.

The Metro lady is standing with her microphone pleading with people not to congregate around the base of the escalators and move down the platform.

My side of the platform is quiet and I wait for the 7:28 train because I usually just miss the 7:22 train unless it’s one or two minutes late.

Collapse

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There are skeletons eating hamburgers talking about marriage and the company. They have translucent, milky white skin and are draped in chiffon cake clothing.

She is being told by the television that her partner will cheat on her and she will need to work on forgiving that kind of behaviour because it’s inevitable.

After revealing he is 175 centimeters and 60 kilograms being told by a friend that he is in fact a bit on the large side. It’s such a waste, your face is so handsome but your body doesn’t match!

See you again means never see you again.

She gets violently drunk at a social gathering and vomits mainly liquid with the few pieces of lettuce she had over the course of dinner. She doesn’t want to get any bigger because the guys won’t like it.

They ask him everyday why he’s single because he’s such a catch. They just don’t get it.

Crammed into a train carriage with hundreds of sad faces and empty eyes.
They have so many things they want to do but their heads are foggy and they can’t get up.

Bound by rules, upholding them when they are watching but breaking them when we are anonymous.

She has collapsed against some cold, beautiful skyscraper, crying and vomiting because she did everything like they said and she’s still unhappy.

Even though it’s a Saturday night and tomorrow is his one day off, he can’t stand the thought of a another week. On the edge of that train platform with the blinding light of a rapid train approaching he closes his eyes and falls into the light.