Balls. Grow some. That was what was going through my head last night. And lucky for me, my thoughts became a real life art installation when I saw this awesome sign on the men’s toilet door in a funky St Kilda bar.
The universe has dealt me some pretty shitty situations over these past few months. Sickness. Heartbreak. Sadness. Etc. And I am pretty fucking resilient when it comes down to it. I can handle the rudest of insults, the meanest of jeers and laugh off the shittiest situations. But sometimes I just wish for a break. Some happiness. And a few good men. Not fuckwits. I will start at the beginning.
Fuckwit number 1
I had secured my first date in a while. I was super excited – luck was wished, pashes were hoped for, and my outfits were planned. I’d met him on the online dating website. He seemed pretty normal compared to the others. Or maybe normal is just freaky. I don’t know. We made it past chatting on the site, to texting, to talking on the phone. He said he wanted a girl he could treat like a princess. And said I was beautiful. And so we met in person – out for dinner. I looked like the hottest woman I’d ever seen. I gave it my all – showing off my legs and boobs. He looked a lot older than I expected. And from the get go, the date was flailing.
He wasn’t really into food. Wanted to opt for the cheaper restaurant. Later he told me he was a ‘tight arse’. He took a call at the table. He told me he was only just learning how to cook. He chose the cheapest thing on the menu, then hated the taste of it, pulling faces when he ate. He said if dessert wasn’t good, he’d throw it in the waitress’s face, and then grinned and laughed. He said his ex mother in law could have cooked it better than him. He complained about the food for a good 15 minutes. My food was fine.
While he has a sad background, he spoke about his ex wife for more than an hour – in fact, telling me the karma he wished on her – one of the reactions my skin gets actually. He told me how much money he earned, and what’s in the bank. He didn’t drink and told me that when he does, he gets aggressive.
He asked me about myself for about 10 minutes.
And he said “Fuck Darren Hayes, man”. No date of mine criticises my truest love on our first encounter. Sure, take the piss when we are in love. But not when you are trying to make a good impression.
I wondered how I would end the night. It was just on two hours of pleasant nods and smiles, false enthusiasm on my part, and me trying to make conversation. And then, the perfect opportunity arose.
“I’ve spent a lot of money on something I’m not proud of. This week in fact”, he said.
“Yes, it’s not alcohol, or drugs, or smokes”, he said.
“But I won’t say what it is”.
And I replied “you just did”.
And then he told me how he uses prostitutes regularly. $5000 in one year in fact. Last Thursday, the day after he texted me telling me he wants to meet.
“I have to go now”, I told him. I gave him some money. He took it – but I shouldn’t have had to pay for that experience. And we left. I said see you, and walked off.
I don’t think he is a bad person. Just incredibly socially inept.And on the upside, he didn’t mention my skin once. I think he was quite into me actually, he did look at me a lot, in a good way. Yep.
I rang Bern, who has moved to Melbourne, telling her how awful it was. And so I drove to St Kilda to hang out with her.
Fuckwit number 2
Before I drove there, I checked my phone. I had a new Facebook message from a guy I’d been talking to but hadn’t met yet. It’s an ichthyosis thing. The message was confronting. Too much information in fact. Sad too. I can’t handle it. Wow is all I can say, mainly out of respect for his situation.
Fuckwit Number 3
I drove to St Kilda, getting a bit lost and frazzled, crying for a moment, thinking about the shitty situation that had just gone down, and remembering that exactly one year ago to almost the hour, I was being held by the man I love. I finally reached the bar she was at, so glad to see her. A true friend she is.
We sat down on a couch. The guy opposite us said to me “excuse me, your face is scaring me”.
“Yes, you look scary”.
His girlfriend just looked at him in disbelief. I couldn’t believe it. What was he? An infant? Certainly a good candidate to get the slap.
And so I let loose, swearing at him, telling him how rude he was. Acting on adrenaline.
His girlfriend still stared at him in disbelief. I think I may have broken up their relationship. She told him that they should go. He was trying to apologise to me. I told him I didn’t want to hear it. What I really wanted to do, was grab his pint of $5 beer and pour it over his head. But I feared the headline “TV presenter arrested in St Kilda bar for assault”.
The guy told me he wanted to explain why he thought I looked scary. Yes, because that’s a justification I really wanted to hear. I told him to shut the fuck up. In those words.
And then they left. His girlfriend apologised, told me she hopes my night gets better. And I said it can only improve on how it’s been.
And the night did get better. Cheap beer, a funky bar, cheesy pizza and lots of laughs, and me doing the walk of shame from her hotel to my car this morning.
Wow. Fuckwits ahoy. Thank god for Bern. And thank god for seeing the funny side.