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I’m out of ideas!

As you would have noticed I haven’t written for this blog site for a while.  It’s not because I’m lazy it was because I was a little busy trying to fix my mental, physical and emotional health problems.  Why did I stop the whole husband hunt side of things while I was doing this?  I realised while having a massive mental health crisis that there wasn’t much point in husband hunting to find someone who’d love me if I didn’t even really like me let alone love myself.

As it turns out I’m high functioning autistic with communication difficulties and co-morbid ADHD so fixing me isn’t going to happen but learning to love me as me has happened.  Medication for the ADHD means I can now sit still for more than 2 minutes and have a conversation without it taking a huge amount of effort to stay on topic.  No medication will help with my autism but behavioural therapy is helping me learn that emotionally and mentally I’m wired a little differently so I’m never going to be “normal”, which is fine and I’m leaning better coping skills, social skills and how to not make stupid chaos making decisions.  If you want full details on the whole autistic side of my life go read The Cutting Cookies Circus my blog all about my diagnostic journey and autistic view of life.

So I’m now closing in on 18 months of being in the care of my amazing Psychiatrist and 14 months of working with my incredibly paitent Psychologist for behavioural therapy.  I’ve started my own business Aunty Emz Blankets started joining social networks with the help of my business buddy Crystal C & A Beauty By Design both to meet people and to build business contact here on the Sunshine Coast, joined 2 book clubs and so on and so forth.  Basically I’ve started to build a life here on the Sunshine Coast and for the foreseeable future I will be staying here so I decided it was time to put my big girl panties on and gratefully glide back into the dating world.

As you’ve probably guessed by the title of this blog I’ve hit a bit of a glitch with my plan to gracefully glide back into the dating world as a fully formed, loving thy self goddess that I am.

WHATS THE PROBLEM

I have no idea how to find eligible bachelors to date on the Sunshine Coast!

  • Bar/Pub/Club – ah no because I don’t drink alcohol, I’m autistic and frankly if you’re over 30 and still looking for husband material in bar/pub/club you are in all probability going to end up with an alcoholic fuck-wit or a toy boy looking for a sugar mama
  • Match Maker (Relationship Consultancy Service) – they either no longer exist because they’ve been wiped out by the Online versions or the Sunshine Coast doesn’t have any I’m not sure which but either way I can’t find even one to go talk to.
  • Internet Dating Sites/Mobile Apps – The free to use ones are frankly shit I know I’ve tried most of them and if I’m going to pay for the privilege of been sent on bad dates I at least want the ability to walk into an office and talk to a living, breathing human about improving the process.
  • Speed Dating – not one speed dating company runs any events on the Sunshine Coast.  Closest event I can find is in Brisbane (roughly 2 hours south of where I live) so the event might cost $20 to attend but add in petrol, parking, post event stress triggered therapy and I’d be looking at upwards of $150 in real costs.  Plus if I did actually make a mutual match with an eligible bachelor he’d be living anywhere from 2 to 4 hours drive away from where I live so not exactly a good start (especially when you’re unemployed yet again and petrol is around $1.25 to $1.38 a litre).
  • MeetUp Groups – yeah nah one thing I’ve learnt about being autistic is I am never going to be comfortable with meeting a whole bunch of new people at once and unfortunately all my girl pals here on the coast are not single so they can’t join and come as my security blanket. Plus looking at the age groups at 43 I’m in the no group for you range.  I did look and found social single groups for 25-35, 30-40 and 50+ all of which make a point if telling you that you must show proof of age when first attending and if you’ve fib on your application and are too old/young for the group you’ve attempted to join you’ll be removed from the group and blocked from their social media sites.
  • Table For 6 (or similar) – ummmm no for a couple of reasons like cost because you have to pay either a 6-12 month membership fee plus you pay for your meal every time you attend an event.  I’m currently unemployed (again) and the Aunty Emz Blankets as yet isn’t making money so what little money I have is being spent on things like food, petrol, medication, Psychiatrist visit and other things I need to stay alive and healthy.  Plus when you start digging into the T&Cs they state that even though you’ve faithfully paid your 6 or 12 month membership fee there is no guarantee you’ll ever actually get a spot on a table in the time period of your membership it all depends on the amount of people in the age group they will put you in so to many or to few in your age group and you miss out on a spot.
  • Team Sport or Group Anything – do not even go there people I’m autistic I don’t do TEAM or GROUP anything.  Hell I even have a mini panic attack turning up to my pilate classe at CGM Pilates and I’ve been going there for 2 months so it’s not like I’ve never met my class mates or instructor before I see them every week.

So I’m 100% out of ideas – please feel free to comment with suggestions, advice and possible good ideas oh hell even possibly bad ideas would be welcome at this point in time.

 

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Disconnected From Reality

Disconnected From Reality

We’re now up to 2010 so by now I had been husband hunting for 7 years.  Between my last date and this one I had died twice in one night, survived cancer, permanently lost my ability to have kids at 33, had two family members unexpectedly die finishing my Psychology degree, moved from the Sunshine Coast to Melbourne and survived a major depressive episode that required 2 years of antidepressants and therapy just to function so I figured it really didn’t matter what hand-grenades life tossed in my path I would be able to deal with it.

For the entire 18 months I lived in Melbourne I went on 1 date and it was close to the end of my stay down there after I’d successfully come off my antidepressants and seemed to be coping ok.  Emotionally I was still relatively numb so when things that would once of stressed me out happened I didn’t really react much which considering this date was probably a good thing.

I got sent on this date by a guy who specialises in finding rich men the next wife.  Despite the fact I was a bigger lady which would normally have meant he didn’t take me on as a client, I fitted a niche field he was having problems finding women to fill he termed it the “end of career to regiment wife”.  Basically he was looking for women in their late 30s to early 40s who were intelligent, childless, presentable and above all else not interested in having kids.  WHY?  He had clients on the books who’d done the first wife, gone through the mid-life divorce marry Barbie doll thing and now wanted a wife who didn’t have kids and wouldn’t want them who would be an asset to their career and enjoy early remittent with them while still active and able to adventure their way around the world together in 5 start luxury.  Since my profile is childless, 3 university degrees, interesting career background, still healthy and active, under 50, reasonable attractive if a little over weight and most importantly totally unable to have kids – I was THE perfect candidate.  He was so desperate to have me on the book he even put me on for free and considering his normal charge is between $250, 000 and $500,000 for 6 months membership depending on your “spousal requirements” a free membership says volumes about how marketable I was.

So I was set up with a guy who was apparently in his mid 40s, owned his own international business and several properties in Melbourne and overseas and was somewhere between uber-wealthy and Millionaire in the personal wealth scale.  On the phone he seemed a little odd but I put it down to him working at the same time as talking to me (I could hear the keyboard keys clicking in the background as we spoke).  He told me he was over 6 foot tall and looked a lot like Gary Ablett (he’s a famous Melbourne AFL Player see Photo below fro reference).

Gary Ablett Geelong AFL Club

Gary Ablett Geelong AFL Club

So the appointed day and time came around and I dressed up in date clothes which naturally included my fire engine red 4 inch heels.  I’m 5 foot 7inches tall so with 4 inch heels I stand just under 6 foot the supposed hight of my date.  I’m punctual to the point of irritating and I’m not overly found of being kept waiting my anyone let alone someone I’m meeting for a date.  When he was over 15 min late I rang and watched as the just over 5 foot 7 inch tall, rail thin, bald guy in a badly fitting suite across the road answered his phone and I mentally ground just knowing this was the guy I was supposed to be meeting and sure enough I was correct.

The fact he was shorter, skinnier and balder and than expected I could deal with but when he got up close enough for me to really see him I discovered he was totally hairless.  I’m intelligent enough to know it was a medical condition but it was still creepy that this guy had no hair at all, no facial hair, no eye lashes, no hair on his head and no eyebrows.  Oddly it was the no eyebrows that creeped me out the most. Have you ever tried holding a conversation with someone without eyebrows it is harder than you would think and until them I never realised how much I read someones facial expressions to ensure I’m understanding what is being said to me.

After the initial hi how are you shake hands thing I let him pick the coffee shop and out of all the coffee shops in St Kilda to go to he picked the worst one so I knew he didn’t regularly drink coffee in St Kilda despite the fact he’d told me on the phone he lived in St Kilda.  He hadn’t said much by the time we’d ordered coffee and despite the fact the place we were having coffee only had 4 options (flat white, long black, cappuccino or late) it took him over 20 min to make up his mind what coffee to have.  Thankfully the coffee was delivered quickly and wasn’t to hot to drink quickly because this guy was driving me nuts.

If I asked him a question like “did you grow up in Melbourne” his response was a disconnected rant about how the current governments immigration policy was running the country into the ground or “what business are you in” got a rant on how women really should never be put in areas of management in business as they were to emotional to really be effective and so on and so forth.

The other irritating as hell thing about this guy was he did everything in slow motions.  When he blinked you could count the seconds it would take for his eyes to close and reopen (about 6), to put sugar in his coffee he took over 2 minutes and to stir it in took even longer.  But the most irritating thing was he intently watched any movement someone made like kids study bugs so as the girl delivered the coffee he stopped mid rant about something and intently watch every move she made.

When I was nearly finished my coffee I went to pee mainly because I really really really needed to get away from this guy even if it was only for 5 minutes and when i came back he’d gone.  The bar girl was clearing the table when i got back and we had a bit of a conversation about my odd date and her advise was “honey you’re an attractive lady if you decide to give up on the creepy guys come look me up”, I just laughed and thanked her.

I went home and told me housemate about the date who rolled around laughing her ass off.  From that point on I have only been on 2 more coffees date both of which were while I was working FIFO and neither of them were memorable enough to blog about in detail.

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The First In Person Experience

The First In Person – Original Contracts

While de-cluttering my life over the last few months I found a lot of stuff that I needed to put through the shredder.  One of the things that ended up in the shredder pile and has now been turned into something useful (mulch for dads potato patch) was my contract and the Code of Ethics for the First In Person Relationship Consultancy Firm.

Looking back on it the $1650 ($261.50 per fortnight) I paid to be a Gold (VIP) Member for 3 months wasn’t all that much but at the time I was very broke, had debits to pay off and was on a low pay check.  Actually my pay check back then was probably more than I currently make but I was as I said paying off my car and credit cards plus add in general living expenses like rent, fuel, food, phone and medication and my income was just covering my expenses so the $261.50 per fortnight was an irritating bill and considering the bad service and horrible dates it was a painful lesson to learn.

I’ve deliberately blurred out the name of the firm to ensure no legal issues can pop up because knowing my luck with this firm they’d probably find this and sue me for being nasty with my opinion about them.

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Mr Addiction

Mr Addiction

The final date I went on through the dating agency from hell was with a guy who should never have made it past their interview process let alone been sent on dates with people. He rocked up late and looked and smelt like he had been sleeping in his clothes for a week. Turns out he worked at the casino as a black-jack dealer and had worked the night shift so he was a little sleep deprived thus the reason he was late. We went to one of my favorite coffee shops, which was actually the one I’d been using for most of these dates. I’d been there so often on these dates that the head of bar knew my order off by heart and the manager had become a friend.

They guy had been fidgety and moving from one foot to the other outside but when we sat down (inside at his instance) he couldn’t sit still. He was constantly tapping the table, jiggling his feet, moving around in his seat, which got really irritating after about 2 min. Then he took his sunglasses off and his eyeballs were yellow like glow in the dark orbs of bright yellow and his pupils were seriously dilated.

At this point in time I was tempted to just get up and walk out because I’ve unfortunately known enough junkies to recognise one when it’s sitting in front of me. I flat-out asked him if he was high and he said “no I just took a little something to get me going cause I was out really late last night” but then admitted he regularly uses speed to keep himself energised. Turns out he wasn’t only a speed junky he was a gambling addict and most nights after work would go to private poker parties and if he had more than 2 days in a row off he’d go up to Sydney or down to Melbourne to the casinos. He apparently had to go out of state to gamble the amounts he gambled because as a Casino employee he couldn’t gamble where he worked without management realising he had issues.

I spent the 20 minutes it took to drink my coffee fuming that I had wasted my time going out with this idiot and he want on and on and on about how he had this system for some game he was totally hooked on playing and how he just knew he’d hit it big on his next trip to Melbourne.

We finished and went up to the counter to pay and the Manager who was working the till automatically charged Mr Addiction for both mine and his drink “oh I’m not paying for her drink” was Mr Addictions response. The manager didn’t miss a beat he told the guy what his drink cost then turned to me and said “yours in on the house sweetie after all you’ve had enough bad dates here to deserve it, go home and have a stiff drink from what we’ve seen you probably need it by now”, then looked at the guy with a straight face and politely asked if there was something else he needed.

Even I have my limits of what I can put up with so from that date forth when the company rang me I simply told them I wasn’t interested. When they asked me if I’d met someone I was honest and told them no but I’d rather chew my own arm off than go on another date organized by them. Since I apparently still had another 3 months of service available through them they put my membership on hold for 12 months and then tried to get me to re-sign up. Since in those 12 months I had lost 2 family members, nearly died 3 times, survived cancer lost my ability to have kids due to the cancer and basically was in a VERY bad mood the day they rang to see if I’d like to rejoin up at the second time around discounted rate the conversation was less than polite and extremely short since they hung up on me FU rant.

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Mr Cone Head

Mr Cone Head

I’m 99% sure by this stage my file had been marked with the words “fussy” and “problem client” because my final two dates were the last straw and proved to me the dating agency from hell was either struggling to find dates for me to go on or was deliberately sending me on bad dates so I’d give up and go away.

I have very little recollection of this date apart from the fact that Mr Cone Head worked in construction and he had a pet python, which he brought to the date with him and his physical appearance. It was his head or rather the shape of his head that stuck in my mind it was so odd I will probably never forget it.

The bottom half of his face at the jaw area was very square but then at the top of his cheek bones his face narrow inwards. Not unusual you might think since this is what most people’s faces do. However this guy’s face narrowed so sharply that his eye sockets touched in the middle of his face and his forehead was pointed. Since he had a badly receding hairline the fact his forehead ended in a point was very obvious.

When he turned his head to look at the cakes on display at the counter I discovered his entire head was like this and he actually had a cone shaped head. It was completely bizarre and to be honest a little creepy, I spent most of the date focusing on his pet python so I didn’t stare at his forehead. Honestly it looked like someone had squeezed the top half of his head in a vice and I kept wanting to ask what had happened to make his head like this. However I was raised to have good manners so I didn’t

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Mr Verbal Diarrhoea

Mr Verbal Diarrhoea

Another weekend and another dreaded date organised by the dating agency from hell was fast approaching.  By this stage I’d given up expecting any of these dates to go well but I was still putting my best foot forward and my best foot was normally shod in 4 inch hand made fire engine red heels.  As it turned out this guy was actually quite attractive, not my type thank god because when he opened his mouth the sexy exterior didn’t make up for the verbal diarrhoea.

Basically the first words out of his mouths where how he didn’t date fat chicks he had only agreed to meet me because Carman had personally asked him to do it so the company could meet its contractual obligations. He then went on to ask me if I thought he had any chance of getting it on with Carmen, wasn’t she just the perfect babe, like if she looked that hot in cloths imagine how awesome she would be in the sack and so on and so forth.  Having never met the woman in person I have no idea what she looked like but if she was built and dressed anything like Marry my original consultant when she interviewed this guy then I’m guessing she was cross between hooker and looker.

He then started babbling about how he’d been fat and wasn’t he totally amazing since he got thin, how he wasn’t going to work till he cracked the modelling industry (that was never going to happen he wasn’t that sexy). He then went on to tell me all about his relationship that had broken up because he’d got fat and how that had motivated him to get thin again. How he’d decided dating women was better they were less judgmental than his ex-boyfriend had ever been and so on and so forth.

By this time my eyes had glazed over and I was mentally doing other things like planning what to send my nephews for Christmas. At some point I tuned back in and he was babbling on about working in a pet shop and how it was his job to clean the cages and how when you have to worm the animals all this poo comes out of them and it looks like spaghetti and meat sauce.

Since I couldn’t get this guy to shut up I asked the cafe staff for the the key and directions to the lady’s room with the intention of running away afterward. Didn’t quite work out that way he followed me to the bathroom and was waiting for me when I came out of the ladies room. I seriously thought about turning around and going back inside and climbing out the window to escape but the ladies room is unfortunately on the second floor of the building above the cafe and a fitted skirt and 4 inch heels are not the easiest thing to climb out a window and shimmy down a drain pipe in.  So I ended up going back to the coffee shop with him and after 3 more coffees and 2 hours later I was busting to pee so once again I asked the staff for the key but this time as i collected it I told the waiter to send one of the girls up in a couple of minutes to collect the key.

After I peed I cracked the door opened and listened and sure enough I could here Mr Verbal Diarrhoea chatting to the waitress as they came up the stairs toward the bathrooms.  At this point my fight or flight instinct took over and since running down the stairs would mean going past them I took the only other options I had I cracked open the window, checked no one was below and drooped my beloved 4inch fire engine red heels out the window, climbed out the window and then shimmied down the drain pipe totally ruining one of my favourite pair of stay up stockings in the process.

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Mr My Wife

Mr My Wife

By now I was going on these dates for pure entertainment and with the mindset that what doesn’t kill you would probably make and excellent book someday. The next guy I went on a coffee date with had a mind-set that was just plain scary.

Physically he was really muscled since he spent at least 2 to 4 hours every day at the gym lifting weights and doing muscle sculpting for a rough idea of his muscle mass think Arnold Schwarzenegger in his body building days. Overly muscle guys aren’t normally my thing to start with but when I met this guy I had to bite the inside of my mouth really heard not to burst out laughing the problem was he was only about 5ft (152cm) tall so the muscle mass was badly proportioned. He was nice enough to give me a rose on the coffee date and then screwed it up 5 min later by commenting that someone my size really should only ever drink low or zero fat milk in her coffee.

Turns out he had grown up in a small town near Canberra, moved to Canberra to attend University and had never left. As I found out when I asked more questions he meant it when he said he’d never left Canberra, not even for a weekend away in Sydney or down to the Coast. I asked him what he did for holidays and turns out he took “stay-cations” and booked a hotel room in Canberra and did the tourist things in Canberra. If you’ve ever been to Canberra you would know that there really isn’t all that much to do in the way of “tourist” things let alone for every vacation you’ve ever taken in the 20 years he had lived there.

Then things got really creepy when he started going on about how when he got married his wife wouldn’t work. His wife would be a stay at home mum and she would have 3 children, 2 boys and a girl but his wife would have a university degree because then his children would be smart. He would give his wife an allowance every month because women could never seem to manage money and the more you gave them the more they would waste it. Once a year till they had children, which would be exactly 3 years after they were married, he would take his wife on a vacation but only one of those would be overseas and he would pick the location. His wife would go to the gym every day because it would be important for his career for her to look her best and his wife would not be allowed to have a weight issue.

I honestly felt sorry for this “wife” of his because over the years he had created the perfect fantasy in his head about what this “wife” would do, say, look like, act and it seemed to be a cross between Barbie and The Stepford Wife robots. I stopped counting the amount of times he used the term “my wife” when I hit 50 and this date only went for 30 minutes, seriously the guy had issues.

He didn’t suggest we have a second date thank the goddess because I’m not sure I could have thought of a nice way to say “ah no way in hell”.  As it turns out we both told the Dating Agency from Hell that they totally missed the mark on that date as we had zero interests in common and even less interest in each other.  By now I was beginning to realise that Carman wasn’t even interviewing the people she sent me on dates with because when I mentioned he was only 5ft (152cm) tall she said to me “oh really I would never have realised he didn’t sound short on the phone”, I just hung up on her it seemed simpler than pointing out that under the contract I signed with her company she’s supposed to vet these guys in person as suitable candidates before sending me on dates with them.

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