The year was 2003. Under Peter Costello’s masterful stewardship the Australian economy was buoyant. My mood however was considerably less so. In fact my 33rd year was an epic pity party for one. On the face of it I was Carrie Bradshaw. I was Singleabulous. I had a job in stockbroking which could be made to sound more glamorous than it was and the bank owned my chic inner city apartment. I rocked a mini skirt and knee boots.
I whined to anyone who would listen about not being able to find a man but truth was Singleabulous found her fair share of men. You don’t need to look too hard – the big end of town is littered with Mr Bigs. The trouble is the their full name too often happens to be Mr Big Ego, Mr Big Player or Mr Big Overgrown 12 year old rather than Mr Big Commitment. Sadly (or perhaps luckily) most of them were in the immortal words of Jack Berger “not that into” me.
Of course I blamed myself and my general lack of beauty, sass and style. You could call it depression. I look back at the sorry episode and kick myself for being such a god damn wuss but bear with me – I snapped out of it.
After having my heart broken by a very hawt but very, very naughty boy (this dude could rival Russel Brand for womanizing) common sense finally smacked me in the face – HARD.
The time had come to say “No to crap”. A change of attitude was well over due. I resolved to keep looking until I found someone who’d treat me with respect and consideration and not to settle for anything less than that.
Spurred on by another single girlfriend I visited a local tarot reader. Seeing psychics is not something you generally do when things are going well. It’s a sign that you’re desperate enough to pay to hear some good news. I got what I paid for. The tarot reader told me that there was a bad influence in my life and once I got rid of that person things would improve. No shit. Secondly she pulled this card -
” I see a new relationship for you”. “Yeh right” I thought “isn’t that what they all say”. She informed me also that I would be having a career change which would involve writing and I would be moving homes. Basically I was about to win the trifecta.
I promptly asked Russel to stop calling. Fast forward a couple of months and I found myself alone in the office on Christmas eve. One of the dealers had been checking out the dating site RSVP earlier in the day and I let curiosity get the better of me. Not long after logging in I spotted an interesting profile – a smokin’ hawt scientist on secondment from the University of Colorado. The guy had the looks of Eric Stolz and a PhD. It was worth a shot. I’d made an ass of myself for far less. I signed on. Part of me felt like I had truly hit rock bottom.
I never met the scientist. I did however connect with a conga line of interesting characters – a pilot, a guy who owned an ad agency, a couple of IT guys, a Federal police officer, a property analyst, some marketing types and one pathological liar. Amid this smorgasbord I noticed a cute red headed chap with the code name “Red Brother”. He was seeking “an intelligent woman for a long term relationship”. I ignored it because I interpreted an “intelligent woman” as a career high flyer. As it turned out Red Brother contacted me.
He wasn’t the type to faff about with flirtatious texts and emails. Instead he rang me and suggested that we meet up. A date was arranged on a Tuesday evening at The Nags Head pub in Glebe. I headed off that night dressed in my trademark tartan and fierce heels with a strange sense that my RSVP odyssey was about to end. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. My internet dating experience had been a roller coaster ride worthy of its own blog. I was ready to get off – or should I say disembark?
Red Brother wasn’t hard to spot in the milling crowd at the bar. Luxurious red curls tied into a pony tail, alabaster skin and eyes of china blue, dressed in a hip bomber jacket and lace up boots. I immediately introduced myself and blurted out something uncool like “Wow – you’re better than your profile pic”. He saw my dagginess and raised it. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever dated”. Blushing “You need to get out more”.
Fast forward one year and we shacked up – that was the moving home. Shortly afterwards I was promoted to the role of trainee research analyst, a new job involving writing. I guess I won the trifecta.
Ten years on we’re Mum and Dadabulous and our life is a ten of cups – but of course Dadabs (aka Red Brother) doesn’t believe in that shite.
Have you ever had your cards read?
PS: Finding love online was never part of the ideal narrative for me. I also hoped that some enchanted evening I would see a stranger across a crowded room yada yada yada. Yet the whole thing fell perfectly into place – where else would you expect to met a software guru but on the internet. Give it a go single ladies.