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Monthly Archives: December 2013

Screw the six month rule

Read any book on how to develop a lasting relationship and it’ll say, wait till you’ve thoroughly checked him out before you fuck.

Fucking, they say, leads to emotional connection, and you don’t want one of those until you’ve established you are intellectually, spiritually and culturally compatible.  So if you meet a guy you like, give it six months before you do the deed – then you’ll be sure you’re mating with the Right Person.  Right?

WRONG.  I mean, not wrong if you like that sort of thing.  Nothing much is.  But some of us – by which I mean me – like good sex even more than we like good conversation.  So if I meet a guy who presses all the right buttons, conversationally and intellectually speaking, but doesn’t press the one button that counts ‘down there’ as that Shades of Grey chick would say – we will never a great relationship make.

Whereas, if I meet a guy who wows me in bed, and is somewhere between 5 and 10 on the ‘other compatibility’ scale – that is, he may not be utterly brilliant, he may not like to have long conversations about death (my favourite topic), he may not read a hundred books a year, he may not understand the basic rules of Socratic dialogue – but hey, he’s cuddly and delightful – then this is what we call a Real Candidate.

And how do we pick a Real Candidate?  Not from a hundred paces, over coffee, locking gigantic intellects – but from up close, with all our clothes off, in the Scientific Laboratory of Love (otherwise known as bed).

And maybe it doesn’t work out.  Maybe he just pulls too many dumb faces on facebook, or believes in the Great Cosmic Cheese Monster, or likes to listen to Elvis (he does).  But the alternative – two people who like one another very much, stuck in a bedroom together with a micro-penis and a sexual connection that would re-freeze the Antarctic ice-caps – is worse.

When things get complicated….

There once was this woman called Jane

Had her eye on a hippy – called Shane.

They made out, like, twice,

And it was so nice,

She wanted to do it again.

Only thing was, she liked him so much,

It was doing weird things to her brain.

Yeah right, said the voice in her head – you dumb punk,

What the hell makes you think you can pull such a spunk?

When you are some plain looking weird writer chick

And hippie boy’s got such a magnificent, I mean his personality is so fully sick!

Maybe it’s just cause you’re a half decent fuck….

And THEN he invites her to his house – what luck!

But hang on – says brain – does he REALLY want her to come?

Nah probably not, says the brain – which was dumb.

But in its defence, she didn’t have his address,

So she couldn’t have visited Shane – least, unless

He told her.  But he didn’t, which just goes to show

Says her brain – he didn’t really want her to go.

So she stayed home – but then, as the voices died down,

Jane thought, you have stepped in the shit now, you clown.

If you try to explain, you’ll sound like a kook,

There’s nothing you can say to get off this hook!

Your mum always said it was wrong to be rude,

And now you’ve been horribly rude to the dude,

And for what?  Cause you got in a stupid old mood!

Cause he didn’t say ditto when you said he’s sweet,

And he thinks that you’re falling in head over feet,

And you aren’t!  That takes time, but in the meanwhile

You’re a little bit crazy for this guy and his style.

Yeah but hey – this is only some shit in a text!

Sure but Jane is a writer -so she’s easily vexed,

She can sit on a pile of words till she’s hexed!

Anyways, the thing is, what it matters to say,

Is that Jane likes HB and wants him to stay

Around long enough so she knows who he is,

And she doesn’t get into this sort of a tizz,

Which is caused – to be clear – cause she thinks way too much,

And she’s scared, and embarrassed, and lustful, and such

And they all mix around in a horrible stew!

But hey hazel-eyed hippie, I do really dig you!

Author’s note: but not scarily dig. Just like, dig.

 

What does blogging have to do with infatuation?

Not much – but here’s one major link I can’t ignore.

When I’m infatuated, it’s REALLY hard to blog!

He looks like Mr Tumnus out of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  I’m still looking for the nubby little horns on his head, in amongst all that curly grey-brown hair.

He cuddles like a dream.  He doesn’t wear any underpants and has six shirts.  He’s a DUDE, with a dude’s voice, deep and sweet.

He’s worried I only like him for his sex appeal.

This roller coaster is hovering at the top of the curve, with a view of Sydney Harbour and a man-scented breeze tickling my cheek.  Up here, the internet seems very small.

If I start to haunt the net-waves on a daily basis, you’ll know I’m either very dedicated (I am), or I’ve swooped face first into the valley of lost love and sicked-up popcorn.