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 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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