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Category Archives: Rose’s Real Life Dilemmas

To fake or not to fake, and other difficult issues Addressed.

It’s not love but…

I’m entranced.  There’s no other word for it.

The swell of those biceps.  That smiling face, half-moon lips, innocent-cunning eyes, that I could look at and into for hours.  And hours.  That lazy-deep voice, with the funny almost-stilted phrasing that I can’t place.  The thick curly hair that I sometimes catch my fingers in by mistake.

There are more cerebral aspects, if you could call them that.  The easy way he shoots the balls down the pockets at pool – pow, bang, snap!  The way he corners the car, as if he was born at the wheel.  The way he sings along to the blues, and stops and blushes when he catches me looking at him.  The funny little things he says, that leave me with no quick answer.  The slow, easy sweetness of him.

And yet, he likes football and cricket, for chrissake.  He thinks black lipstick is sexy (that indefinable look that says ‘roadkill’ like nothing else can!).  He reads two books a year.  This year one of them was mine.  The other was probably on mud bricks.  But hey.

It’s not like I haven’t got choices.  I could choose the man whose intellectual interests match mine like pearls match a twinset, who is kind and emotionally mature, reads more books than I do and writes them too.  That’d be the right thing to do, I guess.  After all, I’m too old for this impulse-shopping shit.  Right?

Oh but this other man, there’s no other word for him but beautiful.  He shines.  I can’t pass that up, not yet.

A Writer’s Dilemma

What would YOU do if….

You met a man.  He was young! Handsome! (well, interesting looking). Slim (not to say skinny).  You shared bucket lists – and THEY WERE THE SAME (substantially).

He likes to ask WHY.

YOU like to ask why.

He’s interested in life after death.

YOU’RE interested in death after life.

He has an enormous TV screen to which he has hooked up his hi-tech computer to produce amazing instant footage of You Tube and TED talks (don’t tell Ms M, but he uses a Mac – the Anti-Christ).

He loves animals.

You have the hots for him.

And not only that, but…he’s a WRITER.  A published writer!

Sounds good, doesn’t it.  You read his first novel and it’s great. A few tweaks here and there and it’d be almost as good as YOUR first novel.  You think wow! But do you stop? No, you don’t. You read his second novel.  And it is AWFUL!  He uses too many adverbs and adjectives.  There are redundant phrases and sentences.  There are plot holes and unlikelihoods.  There are stereotypes – lots of them. Large elements of the plot have been lifted from the Hunger Games.

NOW what do you do?  You still like him, a lot, but this writing…just no!  Worse, he’s intimated that with a few tweaks, YOUR stories could perhaps reach similar standards of excellence.  Hmmm.

I think we have a sequel to A Clash of Kings. It’s going to be called ‘A Clash of Egos’ and it’s going to be even MORE bloodthirsty than Game of Thrones.  I mean, it’s got to be – there are WRITERS in it.

I mean really.  What’s more important – intellectual respect – or that certain feeling in the seat of the pants?

Announcing the unsexiest invitation to snog in the entire universe….

bikies moll

Ok perhaps that’s overstating it.

I met Mr Motorbike yesterday. It was a spur of the moment thing. I was in the area. I thought, why not.  One coffee never hurt anyone.

We meet. He’s ok. He’s into motorbikes.  He says, ‘Want to go for a spin?”

I think, it’s been 20 years since I’ve sat on the back of a motorbike.  And that was when my best friend was a bad girl with pink hair and an unbelievably huge bottom, who derived major street-cred from arriving at rough bars astride a large black two wheeled thing that went vroom.  I can’t be more specific – I’m not into motorbikes.  Except to say that my own two wheeled thing, which had wonky handlebars and went ‘squeak’, was kind of laughable in comparison.

So I’m in a YES kind of mood.  I mean, what could possibly go wrong?  I could be splattered all over the road like a can of tomato ravioli only sexier.  Or I could spend the next six months in hospital.  Or in a home-made dungeon….

So the next day he picked me up and we got on the vroom vroom and I suddenly remembered that I don’t like things that go fast, and the feeling of 100km/hr (actually 60 but it felt like it) wind in my face, and watching the road leer menacingly at my knees as we lean round a curve…I don’t like it much at all!

Anyway finally we reach our destination, a kinda pleasant picnic spot next to a river (with some families doing security patrol).

Me. So we’ll sit down here, shall we? What a nice morning!

Him. Mmm.

Me: So…what do you do when you’re not on your motorbike?

Him: (looks blank) I, um, garden, that kind of thing. And work, of course. Though not really.  They pay me a lot but I don’t actually do any work.

Me: Great. But in the evenings? I mean, after you’ve finished you read?

Him: Nope.

Me: Watch tv, movies?

Him: Not much.

Me: What then?

Him: (after a pause) Don’t know really.

We contemplate the scenery.  I think about how quickly it would be polite to ask to get back on the bike and go home.

Suddenly there’s movement at the station.  A quick glance downwards.  A nervous leg movement.  And then it comes.

“Would you like contact?”

He’s already leaning in for the kill, lips pursed, arms invitingly curved.


“Oh, ok then.”

Well, that’s that then.  Fun time had by all.  But at least I got to have that bikies moll fantasy over again!

What’s the unsexiest come-on you’ve ever had?

Relationship half truths..

Warning: Negativity Below. Do not read if you suffer from allergies.

Sometimes, in my darker (or let’s say more argumentative/contrary moods) I want to be NEGATIVE.  We all know those phrases that we tell ourselves and our best friends and the people we care for, while thinking, somewhere in our heart of hearts ‘Do I really MEAN that?’.  For instance:

He just doesn’t deserve you.

Actually, you ARE very irritating, and did anyone ever tell you NOT to try to make your lips look bigger by drawing them on with lipstick?

Honesty is very important in a relationship.

Sure it is. As long as you don’t have anything too awful to say.  In a relationship, you have to decide early on if you’re going to be honest, or liked.  If you ARE going to get into major lying, don’t sprinkle it with occasional truth, it’ll only spoil the flavour.  The best lie is a rich, full-bodied red.

There’s someone for everyone.

There’s a lot of people on the Earth, it’s true. But most of them don’t fancy you.  Do you really think the Universe has carefully hidden the right mate, like an Easter Egg, under a bush somewhere for you to find?

Love will find you if you’re not looking

Maybe. But not if you’re sitting at home watching tv (unless you happen to live in a novel, in which case, relax, a handsome stranger will break down outside your house any day now).

You’ll find love again.

You MIGHT.  A lot of people don’t.  Romantic love is not some kind of universal human right.

I love being single.

Then why are you dating? Loving being single is about as genuine as liking dinner without dessert. Ok, sometimes we do, but come on, does anyone really WANT to live and die without sex?

You’re beautiful just the way you are.

Define beautiful. You’re just the way you are, beautiful or not.

Things happen for a reason.

Yes they do. They happen because the things before them happened. Life is not organised FOR you, to teach YOU lessons.  It just is.

Are YOU negative sometimes? Can you add to this list? Or am I just being horrible?

xoxo Rose

The urge to be elegant

Every now and again I watch an old movie, or go to an expensive restaurant, and I get the Urge to be Elegant. I imagine what it would be like if, just once, I wore a black cocktail dress and stockings without ladders and the Right shoes, and my hair was all smooth and perfectly styled, and my makeup was just so (well, just HAVING makeup on would be a start), and I hadn’t forgotten to paint and buff my fingernails and shave my legs and tweak my brows and sandpaper off those rough bits on the back of my heels….ah!

And all would look, and be Impressed.  What a perfectly groomed specimen, they would say.  You can see SHE really looks after herself. How polished! How poised!

Well why don’t you then? says my best friend, unanswerably.

Because…because…because I’m me and I can’t be bothered.  The Right Shoes are uncomfortable and I always think of something else I’d rather spend $150 on.  Ok my hair isn’t groomed but then it only takes two minutes to get it that way – meaning I can start dressing for The Occasion twenty minutes before I have to be out the door rather than two hours before.  I don’t LIKE makeup, it makes my eyes itchy and my skin look like someone else’s skin and besides, I’m crap at putting it on.

So I’ll just dream. But one day, yes, one day – I WILL be suave! Just once.

Hey you! Yeah that’s right, you with the balls! I need help!

Right now I’m not dating anyone, or trying to. I’m writing.

But SOON – I’ll be done with my book, for now, and then I’ll want a man.

And THEN I’ll have a problem.  Which is:

How do I say ‘I’m not interested in seeing you again’ in a way that makes the guy feel less like the rejected novel on the slush pile?

Because I know how crappy it can feel when you’re internet dating and one of these things happen:

  • You’re emailing a guy, and he’s emailing you, and then suddenly – he stops. What did I say??
  • You send a guy a ‘kiss’ and he sends you back an auto-reply ‘Thanks but no’.  If it’s one in every ten that’s fine, if it’s nine in every ten, you’re like ‘What’s wrong with me then?’ and ‘Couldn’t you just, like, ignore me instead of hitting the auto-reply?’.
  • You meet up with a guy, and you get on alright, and he says he’d like to meet you again, so you email him and…nothing.
  • You meet up with a guy, and you THINK you get on alright, and he doesn’t say he’d like to meet you again.
  • You ask a guy if he’d like to meet up again, and he says no.

So the super-confident person, when any of these things happen, just quotes something out of He’s Just Not That Into You like ‘I’m simply magnificent and you obviously weren’t the right person to see how truly scrumptious I am – worse luck YOU!’.

I’ll buy you one if you answer my question!

But the not-so-confident person, after a string of these rejections, starts to think ‘What kind of loser am I? Doesn’t ANYONE like me?’

Do as you would be done by.  So I want to leave the guys I don’t happen to want, with a feeling of ‘Hey she doesn’t want to go out with me but I’m a hot, sexy, charming man and the right babe is probably sitting there at her computer this very moment having wet dreams about my warmth and intellect!’

But HOW?? Guys, help me here. Only a MAN knows how a man feels – so tell me, how do you like your rejections? What’s the best one you’ve ever had? How can I leave you feeling sweet?

Let’s hear it for the Other Woman!!

A couple of my favourite bloggers, Kourtney Heintz’s Journal, and 21st Century Love Triangle, have posted recently on a subject that’s kind of dear to my heart.

By way of intro, it used to be hard for me to even THINK about this subject without going red in the face and thinking about things like out-of-control giant car-crushers and putrid herpes.  The subject in question is….the Other Woman!!  Da DA!!

Jesse James and Kat Von D, who took over where Sandra Bullock left off. Aren't they a sweet couple?

Someone I like to call the Demon Ex could have practically filled a chorus line with Other Women. Some knew they were the Other Woman, but were happy to play second fiddle. Others thought they were coming in at the tail end of a dying concern. Others again thought they could probably outbargain the number One in an open market.  What started with an indulgent shrug ended with long nights spent broodingly dreaming of mowing the lot of them – AND the Demon Ex – down with a sub machine gun.

Still as Kourtney quite rightly says, why blame the Mistress? SHE didn’t do you wrong.  And why forgive the perpetrator, when HE’s the one who’s a great big squashed dog turd you’ve accidentally walked all over the house.

Well, for one thing, you LOVE the perpetrator. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t give a stuff where he put his doodle.  In fact, when you think about it, it’s completely irrational that you care where he puts it in the first place. As the Demon Ex used to point out with nauseating regularity, why should anyone want to OWN his donger? (And indeed, why should they? It’s not like it was in good working order.)  You don’t, on the other hand, LOVE the mistress, to say the least. So you’re not going to want to make excuses for her.

It’s still true that SHE didn’t owe you nuffin.  After all, she isn’t the one who made promises. She isn’t the one who lied. And she usually has a pretty hard time on her own account, being ‘fitted in’ around time with the Number One Love Interest.

On the other hand, as 21st Century points out, women have a responsibility to do the decent thing by other women.  The Other Woman may not be the prime mover, but she helps dig the hole.  She contributes at the least to a deception, and at worst, to the destruction of someone’s heart and soul.  How should she feel if her lover’s partner finds out and suicides? That’s the way the cookie crumbles?  How about if his marriage breaks up and as a result he loses access to his kids?  Not her fault? I guess not, but it’s not a comfortable moral position to be in, either.  Besides, it’s not like single guys aren’t a dime a dozen, that you have to sucker onto the attached ones.

Ok, nobody likes to feel they’ve done something ‘wrong’ and most people will go to great lengths to justify whatever it is they’ve done, shrink it and massage it and discuss it and disguise it, until it kind of looks ‘right’.  All the same, when we do something a bit crappy, the best thing really is to admit it and resolve not to do it again.  Feeling ashamed and guilty is sometimes a signal to be heard and acted on, not something to be avoided. Thus we grow.

Luckily for gun totin’, crusher-driving ex-girlfriends everywhere, revenge is usually unnecessary, as inheriting the unwholesome attentions of the Demon Ex is punishment enough (on mature reflection).