Home' Nova National : February 2010 Contents 25
to attract someone for Valentine’s Day,
so that I didn’t spend another night with
a dvd and the popcorn maker, so as to
avoid every café and restaurant in
town featuring a special Valentine’s Day
First decision, which picture to use?
The one of me doing extreme ironing on
Black Rock beach, which turned out to be
mild ironing, with absolutely no danger,
a calm ocean, and a pleasant breeze?
Perhaps best not to appear too much of
a nutter at first glance. I guess the picture
of me wearing a woollen beanie in Per u is
out as well, then.
No pics of me with my cats. Can’t
appear as a mad cat woman.
I finally found a photo of me where
I look relatively normal – no Star Trek
costumes, no awkward yoga poses, no
monster impersonations. I pasted it into
my profile, and saw immediately that I
didn’t stack up against the woman who
posed in a pale blue lace bra, one arm
thrown casually above her head. Or the
lady who just happened to be leaning
forward over a red sports car. I wish I
were that glamorous, but a photo of me
leaning over my 2000 Mazda 323 was not
likely to gar ner much excitement. Nor
would displays of Berlei sports bras in
boring white, or Target boyleg undies that
said, “I believe in fairies.”
“Sex kitten” would probably not be
my first profile choice.
Sporty? Good gods, no. I failed Physical
Education in high school due to a surfeit
of sloth, and no aptitude to jump over
high things. Did Middle Easter n dance,
ballroom dance, and the ubiquitous beach
walks count as sport?
I was embarrassed to type in “beach
walks”. It made me sound soppy, it made
me sound like every other person on the
site. If we were all out doing beach and
bush walks, how come there was any
coastline or bush left? I worried that
“walking” was a euphemism for something
and I’d been so long out of the dating
game that I’d missed this cultural language
“Does bush walking mean shagging?”
I called out to my friends.
Stunned silence. Guess not.
So many choices to make. Did I reveal
how much I liked being at home with a
book? Too brainy, and some men listed
“n o brainy chix”. No spelling either.
If I revealed the belly dancing, there
seemed to be the assumption that I was
a real firecracker with secret bedroom
Ballroom dance – old fashioned,
perhaps a bit formal.
Three cats – mad cat woman who likely
collected newspapers and old bottles.
Likes science fiction – geek and nerd.
Reads tarot – spooooooky.
Oh, why couldn’t I like drinking,
and Agent Provocateur
I sighed, and typed: “Brainy redhead
who likes dancing, eating, laughing,
reading, and walking. Does not play
games, and is crap at flirting. Two teenage
children (shock, hor ror, yes, I’ve had
a life), and I’m nearly an empty nester.
Writes poetry, reads science fiction. I
like The Age’s Odd Spot, and the movie
Madagascar. I’m looking for a bloke
who can handle his own issues, put
down a toilet seat, is literate, gainfully
employed, and who doesn’t think a Bach
Fugue is a batch of fudge.”
I posted it. Within minutes, I was
being told that I was not Jason’s type, or
George’s, Peter ’s, Philippe’s, Graeme’s,
Mark’s or Stephan’s or Xing’s.
One man wanted to know if I’d
write a love poem for a woman he was
dating, so he could pass it off as his own.
Another asked why I didn’t like fudge.
Five were keen to know if I wanted more
children. One was concer ned that my
science fiction tainted views might not
reconcile with his “Bible as manual” way
On the other side of the room, Marie
was chatting with a tradie who sparked
her interest and they were going to meet
in the Bunnings coffee shop next Saturday
Robyn had yet to find the woman of
her dreams, who owned a Golden
Retriever and cooked Thai.
Cecily was looking confused, because
the man she’d been messaging had
suddenly asked if she liked a good Black
and Decker nail gun.
“I think he wants me to build his
house with him,” she squeaked. She looked
down at her manicured nails.
How to present ourselves to the
world? Which bit of us, on the personality
level, is going to pique someone’s
interest? Who will accept the whole of
us, woolly bedsocks and all? What do we
choose to keep hidden?
Never mind “Where will I go today?”
The question on everyone’s keyboard is
“ Who will I be today?”
© NOVA FEBRUARY 2010
‘I wish I were that glamorous,
but a photo of me leaning
over my 2000 Mazda 323
was not likely to garner
much excitement. ’
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