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Amber had always believed in the feminist cause – at school, while we politely froze to death in our knee length skirts, she campaigned for the right for girls to wear trousers, which for us, seemed pretty radical and in our eyes, akin to taking a match to her bra, or throwing herself under the King’s carriage suffragette style.  Equal rights, equal wages, equal everything was Amber’s mantra.  So, when she went on a date with Lewis she stumbled upon an issue that shook the foundations of her feminist ideals. At the end of the date, he asked her to pay half.   Sure, said her logical side.  This is the 21st Century.  We earn equal wages, vote, and live in a country where women play football and men wear eyeliner.  She was not a Victorian and she could show her ankles whenever she liked.  But the logical side of her brain was not where the attraction control room was situated, and Amber’s initial attraction for this handsome, charismatic guy had suddenly shut down.

Was Amber being hypocritical, transforming into a housewife of Orange County, or is she right to demand equal wages, yet be turned off when a guy expects us to pay our way? Let’s face it, what’s right and what we’re attracted to often have little in common.

I can relate to Amber’s predicament.  I once dated a guy called Samuel who was a lawyer, yet each time we went out on a date, he paid, but upon doing so, produced a 241 voucher.  One day, he’d left the vouchers at home, and because he didn’t have time to go back for the vouchers, he cancelled the date.  In return, I cancelled ever seeing him again.   Samuel’s obsession with vouchers, while showing a thrifty, economic streak, did not make me feel special or valuable enough to keep the show going.  Morally, I didn’t have a leg to stand on, because he didn’t owe me anything, but in attraction terms I was pretty much dead from the waist down after that, and no amount of feminist theorising would have revived what was left of my libido.

There is also a case to be made for the man actually preferring to pay, suggesting that both parties benefit from this arrangement.

Although first dates are the earliest days of a relationship, are we biologically more attracted to those who give the impression of being generous providers?  Is our body preparing for when a family may be on the cards? Or are we simply demanding to have our cake, eat it, and pay for it using someone else’s wallet?

My friend Caitlin shared with me her latest dating scenario the other day.  She was really very perplexed and without a clue as to what went wrong.  Here is what happened.

Caitlin went to a concert to see one of her favorite bands. While walking up the stairs to the balcony for a better view, she passed a really cute guy. She caught his eye, smiled, and continued on her way, feeling good because she sensed him watching her walk away.

Later that night, he found her and bought her a drink, and they started talking. She learned that his name is Jeremy, he’s a photographer, and he recently moved to her town – just a few blocks away from where she lives, in fact. Caitlin was digging his company, and when he asked for her number, she didn’t hesitate in give him her real number.

She heard from him later that night, saying how great it was to meet her. She loved that he wasn’t into playing the waiting game, and they started a back-and-forth SMS flirtation. Jeremy sent cute hellos to let her know he was thinking of her, and after a few days, they made plans to hang out in their neighborhood so she could show him around a bit. As they wandered, Jeremy wrapped his arm around Caitlin’s waist, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. She leaned in close, enjoying the connection between them. They walked for hours, had dinner and ice cream, and then Jeremy walked her home and kissed her goodnight. A perfect first date, in Caitlin’s mind.

The fun and flirtation continued after that, and Caitlin felt at ease. Jeremy contacted her daily and they hung out a few times a week; though things progressed slowly physically, she wasn’t worried. After a few weeks, he met her friends, who adored him. Caitlin met Jeremy’s best friend when he was in town for a weekend, and it was clear that Jeremy had told him all about Caitlin. Things seemed to be progressing nicely.

That is, until two months later. Caitlin and Jeremy finally spent the night together. After they had sex for the first time, he told her she was beautiful and wrapped his arms around her.

One thing was clear: Caitlin was really happy she chanced that smile at the concert!

But after that night, something was different. The charming, flirty messages stopped; they began to seem forced. Every time she asked to make plans, he turned her down. For the first time in their brief relationship, she felt needy. She wanted more from him. After a few drinks one night with her friends, she succumbed to the drunk text and finally asked him what’s up. “I’m exhausted”, he replied. “Life is just really busy right now.”

I suspect you can guess that after that, Caitlin stopped trying, and she didn’t hear from Jeremy again. She never understood what happened between them.

Surely, it wasn’t because she had slept with him too soon – she held off for 2 months!  Perhaps it wasn’t as good for him as it was for her? Or was it something she said or did?

Well, Mat Boggs has a really interesting perspective on this, which he calls the law of elasticity:

What do you think?  Is there some truth to this?  If Caitlin had just let Jeremy have his time away from her without pushing him, would he have come back to her on his own?

It’s not just houses.  Some relationships are haunted too; haunted by the ghost of a past relationship.   My sister Kate had such an experience. This is the story of her phantom menace.  Last year she fell hard for a stockbroker. Their first date was intense, and they talked about everything under the sun, including, and often to the exclusion of all else, Greta the Ex. Although Kate was rather smitten with James, she noticed by the end of their first date that she actually knew more about his ex, Greta, than she did about him. Swallowing her doubts, she took his frank personal disclosures as a good thing, believing that if he was comfortable enough to be discussing it, he must firmly be in the Land of Over It.  However, when she left the date with the realization that she knew enough about Greta to go on Mastermind, she felt uneasy and a tad jealous.

For another woman, this knowledge might have been enough to cause her to abandon ship, but Kate was more resilient. Perhaps he just needed time, and helping him heal his old wounds appealed to the nurturing Brownie Guide side of her.  After all, to have had such a great relationship with his ex, James clearly must be relationship material. But as Kate was soon to discover, putting all her eggs in the Potential Basket had its downsides.

Kate started feeling insecure whenever he mentioned Greta, and started resenting this ghost that was haunting what could have been an amazing relationship.  It was when Kate saw James turn white as a sheet and start shaking like a leaf when they bumped into Greta that things changed.  Greta was far from the goddess she had envisaged.  She actually looked rather ordinary, pleasant enough, but by no means heaven-sent.  Kate realised she was sick of competing with a figment of his imagination.  Her sense of pride tapped her on the shoulder, and said “Call it a day. I’m dying here!” This time she listened, and called it quits.

Was James the male equivalent of the girl in this video?

When Kate ended things, something strange happened.  Through mutual friends, she heard that the next woman he dated was soon complaining about being treated to an inordinate amount of information about his ex, information that was this time about Kate and how ‘incredible their relationship had been’. It soon became clear that Kate was now the ghost, and his new relationship was being haunted by her image. She had joined the ranks of the revered and romanticized characters situated in James’s mental paradise – Memory Lane.

It seemed that James only became interested with what he could no longer have.  He was far from relationship material.  Kate realised she didn’t need to feel threatened by Greta. She could have been any woman in his past. He was dwelling on his past to avoid living in the present.  This led me to beg the question, when it comes to exes, should we be more frightened of the ghosts, or the ghost hunters?

Always the hero, my friend Phil is the one you’ll find administering a plaster onto a child’s knee, catching a spider and gently releasing it into the wild all eight legs intact, and descending from a tree carrying a neighbour’s thankless cat. When he met his wife Gwen, his heroic ways translated to his relationship.  Soon into the relationship it became clear that Gwen was about as secure as a Blu Tack bungee rope.  In the first year of their relationship Gwen banned Phil from keeping women’s names in his phone. “To be fair, her last boyfriend cheated, so I can understand”, Phil would insist.  When asked why he wasn’t coming to a work’s xmas party, he replied, “Gwen prefers us to socialize together.  I don’t want her to feel left out”. Her Facebook status is regularly updated with statements along the lines of “Gwen cannot live without her wonderful boyfy woyfy.” With less boundaries than a safari park, to the average onlooker, their relationship seems less awe inspiring and more ew inspiring.

After an episode in which Phil had raced home from a housewarming because Gwen had phoned, upset about her dog, who had died two years ago, there were murmurs of dissent around the table. This was when I heard the statement  “It’s Phil’s responsibility to make Gwen feel secure and safe in the relationship, so that she never feels the need to be jealous”.  Wow.  Say what now?! When did it become our partner’s job to pick up the stray pieces of our psychological jigsaw?

From childhood, it seems.  From Hercules to Aladdin, we’ve been raised to applaud the image of a good man rescuing a damsel in distress from an ivory tower, just like we’ve been raised to applaud the nurturing hands of the Mother Theresas of this world.  But in the context of a relationship, how far can we travel this route, before we reach Dysfunction Ville?

How long before people start to think you are under her control?

Should there come a time when the knight in shining armor draws the line, heads back to the castle and this time says to the maiden, “I think it would be good for you to rescue yourself on this occasion.  Maybe carve out an ivory tower skeleton key, learn to abseil or take self-defence against wicked stepmother classes? That way, you won’t be completely reliant on me, and you’ll be with me, not because you need me, but because you like me”?

There are those that upon sensing the end is near, come up with all sorts of ways to salvage a relationship and snatch it out of the jaws of relationship death.  But there are some who take a different tack. They strike even before the iron is hot, and when they sense a dumping is on the cards, launch a pre-emptive strike.

My friend Tanya had felt the icy sting of being dumped one too many times, so when she felt her boyfriend Steve drifting away, she decided this time, it would not be taken lying down.

She notice the signs: he was prioritising football over her, drinking with the guys instead of taking her out, and most hurtfully, watching American Idol as she waited upstairs in a negligee.  With the holiday they had planned looking increasingly like it would be taking place purely in her head, she decided it was time to take the power back, George Kostanza-style.

“I knew he was going to dump me, so I got in there first”, she proclaimed.  Tanya had joined the ranks of those pride-conscious folk who strike well before the iron is hot.  With a code of combat that asserts the best form of defence is attack, when these folks sense a dumping is on the cards, they launch a pre-emptive strike.

Once Tanya had pulled the trigger, Steve was shocked and upset. He mourned the relationship for a good few weeks.  Tanya initially felt powerful, like she was exhibiting Aretha Franklin levels of self-respect, and was no longer being taken for granted. She had drawn the line and her actions said, “I deserve better.”  But as Steve gave her his keys to the apartment, the doubts set in, and when she found one of his dirty socks she felt a pang of nostalgia.  Had Steve been about to dump her?  Was it just a rough patch?  Should they have talked it out first?  Because she had used the trump card known as Dump, it was too late to find out.

Six months later, she attended a friend’s book launch and saw Steve with another woman. Ouch.  More than ouch.  She found she hadn’t mourned the relationship herself because she had been too preoccupied with who held the power.  The sense of rejection she had been avoiding suddenly hit her.  She wasn’t over it. Women who are over it do not hide behind stacks of books.

The pre-emptive strike method means you get to play the almighty role of dumper, rather than dumpee and say to your friends, “Yeah, I decided he wasn’t for me, so I kicked him to the kerb” while your friends cheer and say “You go girlfriend” and other Oprah inspired phrases. You get to avoid the sympathetic slaps on the back and hearing patronising phrases like “Plenty more fish”, “He was just intimidated by your perfection”, or more worryingly, “My granddad was recently widowed.  Shall I give him your number?”

But the side effect of launching a pre-emptive dumping missile is felt on both sides of the relationship battlefield.  The target feels the full pelt of an ego bruising.  However, when the smoke clears, the dumping missile launcher is left peering across at an empty wasteland, and more often than not, a pile up of what ifs, longing and regrets.

Some value pride. Others value regret free living. But at the end of the day, if the door to a relationship is shut, does it matter who pulled the handle?

As little girls we were told the stories of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White, seduced by the promise of our own Prince Charming whom we would someday meet and marry.  We were indoctrinated with the concept of our lives starting when we got married.  That was our reason for being; our purpose in life.

There are many things we leave behind when we grow up: our toys, our imaginary friends, our favourite blanket.  But what of the values and beliefs that are instilled in us via these fairy tales?  Do we outgrow them or do they remain with us throughout our lives?  And in holding on to these fables, are we clinging to a future that may not eventuate?

Do you know any single women who still, to this day, are holding off from seizing the joys and challenges that life presents, because they are not yet partnered up?  How many of your friends have said “I’ll visit Paris for the first time on my honeymoon” or “I can’t go away until I have a boyfriend to travel with”?  I had one friend who told her flatmate that they could only live together for a year because within the next year she would be meeting her husband.  These women believe that their life will start when they get married.

Or maybe you know of someone who has made finding a partner their soul aim in life?  They won’t go out unless they know there is a possibility of meeting a man.  The problem with these women is if their entire focus is on finding a man, who is the person that they present to these men?  Do they have any other interests, accomplishments or pursuits?  And once they find this man – what then?  Are they simply a cup that is filled up with the needs and desires of their partner and their own identity is forsaken?

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be married and to have kids and the happily ever after.  But if your pursuit of this takes over your entire life and you are holding off from doing things that could enrich your life because of the absence of a partner, then one day, you may turn around and realise that not only are you still single, but you’ve let the best years of your life pass you by and haven’t made the most of it.

If you know someone like this, then try to knock some sense into them, or better yet, share this blog post with them!

I was reading an article recently that had some interesting insights into the shopping habits of men and women.  According to this article, “While men are busy buying, women are busy shopping”.  Women take pleasure in browsing and strolling through the aisles, taking their time to try on various shoes, doing a test walk in those red heels, trying to decide whether the size 7 or the 7½ would fit better.  And even if she likes it, she won’t buy it on the spot, but will peruse the rest of the store and even other stores until she makes her final decision, just in case she finds something better.

But a man will approach shopping in an entirely different way.  Has he found a pair of shoes that looks ok, fits, and doesn’t cause them pain when they walk?  Yes.  Great.  Sold.  Shopping is done for the day.

I started to wonder, does the behavior of men and women follow similar patterns when it comes to shopping for a mate?  My initial response is that it’s a bit of a stretch. But my friend, Martin has a different perspective.

 My friend Susannah moved to Australia to experience the Sun, Sand and Seriously good looking men.  She’d heard that more than half of the population consisted of foreigners.  So she had visions of being surrounded by all these dreamy men, gawking at their gorgeous bodies on the beaches and swooning at their accents as they whispered sweet nothings in her ear.  In her head, it was a movie montage with slow motion running on the beach Baywatch-style and moonlit strolls with her foreign hottie.

So when her friend suggested a setup with a co-worker of hers, Adam, and when she checked out his picture, she agreed.  Let’s face it, looks do matter and this guy ticked all the boxes: tall, dark and handsome.  She was still a little wary of setups, however, and so her one condition was that they would exchange email addresses so that they could decide to meet on their own terms.  Truthfully, she wanted to communicate with this guy and get to know him a little before going into an awkward blind date.

On paper (and via email) this guy seemed great: 32 years old, from Europe, had been living in Sydney for ten years and finishing a post-doctorate degree in Chemistry at a local University.  They seemed to have a lot in common – a deep love for the written word, a passion for travelling, and an appreciation for great food.  After two weeks of email exchanges, she felt confident that he wasn’t in the douchebag or weirdo category and was ready to move to the next stage and meet this guy in person.

They decided to keep things casual and meet on a Saturday afternoon for coffee at one of her favorite cafes.  She walked into the café, ordered her usual coffee and sat down at a table outside.  Thirty seconds later, he walks up, introduces himself and plonks down in the chair across from her looking rather unkempt.  So much for first impressions.  This guy was nowhere near as attractive in person as his picture!  And couldn’t he have at least brushed his hair before he left his house?

They sat there chatting for 45 minutes.  Correction: She was talking and he was attempting to speak to her in English.  “Did I mention that Dr Science barely spoke any English?!  I couldn’t believe it!  He has been living in Australia for ten years and he’s getting his post-doctorate degree in Chemistry – how could this guy not speak English fluently?!” She exclaimed to me.  She made a concerted effort to find some kind of spark with this guy, but the language barrier made it insurmountable.

Never in her movie montage did she imagine a scene where she was repeating herself over and over again and being told that Australia has “beautiful bitches”!

It took her a while to realize he was talking about the beaches, not the local female population!   She found herself longing for the end of this awkward scenario and figured that he must also feel the same.

But then when the date finally came to an end, he asked her if she wanted to meet up again.  She was in shock.  Was he on the same date that she was?? How could he not have felt that this was a hopeless situation?  She politely declined his offer, saying that she just didn’t feel any kind of spark between them.

One hour later, she received an email from him (in perfect English) saying, “I’m sorry you feel like we didn’t click.  I think if you would just give me a chance, I could rock your world.”

Women:  Have you ever had a male friend you knew would take things further with you if you let him?

Men:  Have you ever had a female friend you would jump given half the chance?

Well, it seems that if you answered “no” to the questions above, you are probably in the minority.  According to this video below (and also to Harry from When Harry met Sally), men and women can never truly be friends.

What I find really interesting about this video is that it seems that while women think friendships with men are possible, they are also secretly well aware that their male friend would pursue more than friendship with them if given the green light.  And the men, across the board, deny the possibility of this platonic friendship with their female counterparts, which suggests to me that these guys are playing the long game: biding their time until they make their move.

I think back to all of my friendships with guys.  I’ve always enjoyed having platonic friendships with guys because of their relative simplicity and ease.  Men are usually pretty direct; there isn’t a lot of subterfuge or hidden allegiances.  Or at least that’s what I thought.  But if I consider this new information that I’ve just learned, it’s not that there aren’t hidden motives; those motives are just different.  They’re of a sexual nature.

Did I really not realize that?  If I’m being totally honest, I probably did.  I just chose not to go there, because it was convenient for me to ignore it.  I liked having the companionship of a male.  The way I related to my guy friends vs my girl friends was really very different and I didn’t want to give up that kind of friendship.

If I look into my past, I don’t need to look too hard to find examples of cross gender friendships that I’ve had that have resulted in a “move” being made.  And after that move has been made and been unsuccessful, the friendship usually ends pretty quickly.  Other friendships I’ve had with men have dwindled down considerably after he’s found a girlfriend.  Hmmm.

And then I can’t help but look at the friendships I’ve had with men who are already in relationships.  Historically, I’ve always been quite happy to have these friendships because the likelihood of this “move” being made on me is far reduced (albeit not entirely improbable).  Of course, there exists another factor in the relationship – the suspicion of the wife/girlfriend, which isn’t entirely pleasant, despite my honorable intentions.  Harry seems to have an opinion on this too:

So where does that leave me?  As a single gal, I want to have the benefit of male company without   the associated sexual implications (unless I want them of course).  But it seems, according to the theories presented above via the wonders of YouTube, that this isn’t such an easy situation to create. What do you think?

I’m putting the challenge out to the blogosphere and wider community to give me your “shortest” date stories.  And before you start tapping away on your keyboard with stories of the 4 foot wonder that showed up one day, stop.  I’m not talking about your vertically challenged friends.  I’m talking about those dates that you didn’t deem worthy enough to last longer than an episode of Gossip Girl.  Was it 30 minutes; 20 minutes or even 5 minutes? 

They can be your stories or those of a friend’s, or even one of those urban legend dating stories.  Tell us how long they lasted; why; who ended it and how; was the ending truthful or was it an excuse?  I’ll start the ball rolling…

My friend, Leanne lived in New York.  As she was a recent transplant to the city and didn’t know many people, she signed up for online dating.  She’d been on the site for a while by now, but was becoming quite disillusioned with the quality of guys available therein.

She had heard and seen of this phenomenon in New York City called “multi-dating” where people would date multiple people at once (no not actually on the same date!).  These multi-daters would have multiple dating relationships going on in parallel, for any number of weeks, or even months.  In fact, on her first night in the city she went to a party where she met one guy who had two dates scheduled on the one night!  Apparently not such a rare occurrence in the city.  Eew.

Anyway, if this was the norm, and she was now a resident in the city, she was willing to give it a go.  When in Rome, and all.  And a lot of dating advice literature came out in support of this method – that way you aren’t putting all your eggs in one basket and pinning all your hopes on the one person (and other clichés like that).  There was one problem.  She couldn’t find enough guys she was interested in (and vice versa) at any one time to be in the multi-dating mode!  Quite a dilemma.

She thought that if she was going to try out this dating method, she would probably have to lower her standards a little, and maybe be a little more proactive.  OK.  So here’s what happened. She noticed that this kinda cute guy had looked at her profile, so she decided to get in contact.  For the purposes of anonymity we’ll call him kindacuteguyNYC.

So Leanne and kindacuteguyNYC had one or two message exchanges through the dating site.  So far so good. And then it came.  What came?  You ask.  Well, if you’re single in NYC and you meet a seemingly cute/normal/nice guy there’s always a little voice in the back of your head waiting for the other shoe to drop – “Why is he still single?”.  Sure, many people ask that.