CONFESSIONS OF A WORKING GIRL (THE 9-5 TYPE, YOU DIRTY BIRD)

Time is money and money is time. Or so they say. If time is money then why aren't I flitting around Paris, Milan and New York, showering the cash registers of Gucci, Lanvin, Alexander Wang and Manolo Blahnik with my piles of mulla in exchange for piles of fabulous threads??

The point is, the majority of my time is spent sitting in front of a computer at my desk (supposedly earning money). Hence I have a huge lack of actual person-to-person social time, and a huge amount of internet surfing time instead (Dear Online Shopping (Topshop and ASOS especially), I love you, From Me). I spend all this time on the internet, I have a shitty lovelife, yet I'm still not sold on the idea of internet dating. However when recently searching for a new housemate, for some bizarre reason I decided that I had come across a much better alternative.

We placed an ad on an online flatmate finder website and were conducting nightly interviews with potential new roomies in our apartment. It's the strangest experience. Less like a job interview and more like a first date - having a random person in your house and asking each other questions, sussing each other out to test for compatibility!
Anyway, as I sat at my computer perusing the Gumtree ads one lunchtime (ok, it wasn't my lunch break, I was just pretending to do work by being at my desk and intently looking at my computer screen with the occasional faux-type added in for realistic effect) and there he was. 25yo male looking for future housemate. His picture spiked my appetite, and as I read on he sounded like he had the perfect level of arrogance and financial stability to have me drooling at his feet. Plus at the end he'd added "...outside work I pursue my creative interests." A fellow creative. HOTTT.

Did I mention he was looking for a housemate to move in with him into a new converted warehouse apartment? So although he wasn't exactly looking to move into a cosy little unit like ours, I didn't see the harm in contacting him. This was the perfect opportunity. I would pose as an interested potential housemate, meet with him for the "interview", we would instantly fall in love and move in together anyway and live happily ever after. And if he didn't take my sexual bait then I would simply tell him I found other living arrangements and thanks for the interview anyway. Exit stage left.

So I contacted him. I responded to his ad via Gumtree as requested.

And never heard boo.

You know what though? I think he might be my evil male twin - the ad is still up on Gumtree to this day and I suspect he was thinking along the same brilliant lines as me in trying to score a date or 5.

Go look him up! drop him an email and let me know if you get a date out of it!

Ciao for now...

THE EXPERIMENT - 1ST PROJECT

Let me tell you a story. A true story. One day, after yet another disappointingly unsuccessful weekend of man-hunting (we went to a surfer magazine party at the Torquay pub during the weekend of the Ripcurl Pro, and STILL couldn't get lucky. wtf?) my friend and I started something we call: The Experiment. The idea was born out of the crux of a series of frustrations and countless, nay, ENDLESS discussions relating to our tragic lovelives. Both of us truly believe ourselves to be attractive, smart, funny young women - yet "WHY OH GOD WHY CAN'T WE GET A FRIGGIN' DATE?!?!" we're constantly heard asking ourselves/each other/friends/randoms.

And so The Experiment started. The idea is to put ourselves out of our comfort zones, be super pro-active in trying to meet new people (of the eligible male variety specifically), go to places we wouldn't normally go to, take initiative and action and hopefully in the process meet someone great, or at least get a date or two out of it. We've got nothing to lose and everything to learn. And at the very least The Experiment could provide us with some fun and potentially hilarious experiences.

One Friday night out we came up with our first project. It was certainly not at all original, but neither of us had ever tried it before and having downed a bottle of wine or two at that stage, it seemed like the perfect official start for The Experiment. So, without much fishing around in my bag (yes, I AM a female but I must have struck it lucky that night) I found an empty envelope, and a pen, and the kitchen sink (joking. Sort of.). I wrote my name and phone number on a torn off edge of the envelope, finished the last bit of my vodka lemon lime, and headed back to the bar in search of the fairly cute bartender who I'd exchanged drinks/money/a laugh with earlier.
I ordered another drink and slipped the "love letter"to him with my $50 note as I paid for the drink. I waited for my change, and to see his reaction when he found the note.
*Cue Benny Hill music* He looked perplexedly at the note (my note, not the money for crying out loud). He looked perplexedly at me. This actually surprised me, wasn't this one of the oldest tricks in the book? He came over to me with my change and the note, and looked at me questioningly.

Gay (because after what happened, I can only conclude that he must be) bartender: Who's it for?
Me: It's for you!
Gay bartender: Who's it from?
Me: Me!!
Gay bartender: What is it?
Me: My number, you bloody douchebag. People use them to call each other. Do you know what a phone is?? - ok this was really just in my head, what I really said, with a seductive smile on my face was:
Me: My number!!!

At this point he still looked puzzled, and not in an innocent and cute way. This was going nowhere at an illegal speed. I shrugged and walked off and guzzled my drink.
My friend and I spent the rest of the night in tears with laughter. Needless to say I never heard jack from the bartender either.

The outcome of project 1 in The Experiment? We learned to pick our targets more carefully, and to steer away from using old tricks of the book. You never can trust that dusty old book! But we enjoyed a good old belly laugh (at my expense) and are no worse off for it.

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FRENCH PRUNES & MEN WITH VANS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

26 today. I'm over the hump on the way to 30. Yikes!

Oh and I'm STILL single.
Even the French don't have a name for me anymore - I'm too old to be a Catherinette, I'm no longer considered pure, apparently I'm just old and dried up!
But I have a good feeling about 26. I'm going to be super pro-active this year in the search for love (or at least a semi-decent man who'll blow away the cobwebs - pun DEFINITELY intended).

Part of a good start to the day, it didn't take much facebook "research" to find the hilarious and strangely attractive guy I met on Saturday night. At the time he (or possibly the alcohol I'd been consuming all day) had me in tears with laughter, and I was highly intrigued/attracted... then he invited me to go to a secret Man With A Van party, but I thought he was joking. And soon after he quickly disappeared into the night without any number exchanges or even a pash.
Turns out the party was for serious! Clearly I just haven't been reading threethousand.com.au enough lately.

So the question is - to make contact and simultaneously look like a freak for having stalked*ahem*researched him down?? Or to let it be, and see if fate brings our paths together again...?

Well for now I can't be bothered wondering about it. I have birthday love and wishes coming my way by the bucketload and I'm going to bask in their warmth. God knows I need the extra warmth today (hello, Melbourne Autumn). I'm going to absolutely surrender and indulge in being spoiled for a day.

Happy Birthday to me!

Ciao for now...