I’ve got a love that keeps me waiting! Waiting…waiting!

I’ve got a love that keeps me waiting! Waiting…waiting!

That song has been stuck in my head for weeks. Three guesses why?

I strive for many virtues but patience is not one of them. I have none of it. It’s overrated. I’m Gen y and I want things when I want them (sorry Rosa you have permission to laugh if you’re reading this)). I can appreciate the merits of waiting. I can understand from a rational perspective why when you wait for something you are more grateful for its existence in your life because of the wait, but all of the reasoning in the entire world will not convince me that I’m ok to wait for a response from this fellow right now. I’ll get it tomorrow. Or next week but by then he runs the risk of me being over him. 

It’s not that I’m fickle. I just get frustrated with reading between the lines. I read enough. I read ALL day. I already have poor vision and now I have to squint between lines to read miniscule text that may not even be applicable to me? Is that a joke?!

We're all time-short so to combat that, I’m very straight-talking. Not interested in wasting precious minutes on the wrong person but I'll happily use them all up on you. Correction - I have happily been using/investing them in thinking of you. Please make it worth this doting.

 I’m open.

 I’m honest.

 If you ask me a question, I’ll tell you the truth. Reason being, if you live honestly (I do), you have nothing to hide (I don’t) but that somehow doesn’t exempt me from the rules of dating. I hate the rules.

Someone asked me a few days ago if when I wrote about friends I was actually writing about myself. No. Not true. I write about friends when they've allowed me to and I write about myself pretty openly when my paranoia allows me to. I wish my love life was that eventful! That rambunctious... except when I’m writing about cheating or break ups. I want none of that.

Last week I wrote for all of us women who have labored over love. Most of you agreed that it was too harsh a criticism of the playful men we have dated but my blog is called RAW because, apart from being an awesome made up acronym for what I write about, it’s also about RAW emotion – the unfiltered stuff. I discuss the pleasures and the pain of relationships and I don’t apologise for it. It’s honest and it’s real. It’s raw and it’s mine. If you disagree, write your own blog. Or tell me. Both will do. I will happily learn from you.

This week I really raw-ly wish this fellow would get cracking.


Fellow! I can see all of your good qualities. They are many and I’m adamant I’d be a better person for having you in my life but waiting for you is making me ugly (and old –yuck)!

I won’t be able to do it forever and I don’t love you but I think I could. To call it love off the bat is a bit too intense. I like you (which means more because you don't have to like everyone). I love you in the sense that if you were crossing the road and about to get hit by a bus, I’d save you – but I’d do that for anyone so it’s not exceptional love....but it could be. It’s more of a love thy neighbour sort of thing. Do you want to be neighbours? We’d see each other a lot more then instead of just sporadically.

Speaking of all that is sporadic… PICK UP THE PHONE! Not daily (or daily if you want to) but even just once in a while will do for now. You told me ages ago that I was good conversation. I know I am. I’ve based my career on it. Let’s talk!

After I have written this blog, I will be over waiting because I would have released all of my anxieties in this post. I am a page past caring.

Neurotic? A little. Passionate? Like you’ve never known. Obsessive? Hmmm…if we treat it like a character quirk rather than a sign of neurosis, maybe that could make it ok?!

I write plenty on the flaws of others so I guess it’s my turn to point the finger at myself. Aside from the above idiosyncrasies – I’m a control freak. It’s so out of hand that even the guy who makes me lunch thinks so. AND TOLD ME!

But this can be an awesome trait. It means I’m very particular about how things are done. It means more often than not I’ll do things myself. This means you’ll have more time to watch the game and do your man things. Isn't that nice! You’ll have SO MUCH spare time. It will be great. You’ll love it and you’ll love me. 

I am stubborn as hell. Imagine how much patience that will teach you. You’ll be so humble by the end of our relationship (which is only when one of us goes to our maker). This has to be for life buddy. I don't think I could handle having you temporarily. I’m practically your ticket to heaven because of all of the virtues you’ll acquire being with me.

I have foot-in-mouth disease. I say the wrong thing all the time. I also say the right thing a lot of the time too though and at least that means you’ll never need to guess what I’m thinking. No mind games – ANOTHER plus! Hooray!

I’m possessive. I’ll want to see you often but that’s way better than not wanting to see you at all. Especially if we’re together. We would have been so good together…

IF

… I wasn’t so impatient. SO I’ve waited a few weeks and two pages of a blog and now I’m done.

Yep. Over it!

                                                                  Now I'm into this guy:

Pest Control

It’s been a while since I’ve had a crush which is very uncharacteristic of me. I’m usually looking at at-least three boys at once to fill my time and imagination (which is very male of me). I like the boy who is great to look at but who I’ll never do anything with, occasionally I’ll engage in a mild flirtation with the guy that makes coffee (his purpose is obvious) and then there’s the one you look at who you hope you’ll settle down with. Knowing this, you can imagine my horror (and boredom) when I realized that nobody was capturing my attention. Surely (I thought) there must be someone out there to fill my mind and time with. What on earth would I write about if there was no man to inspire my text?

Then he came.

As the saying goes, when it rains it pours and true to form, I had a few men entertain my mind’s stage this week, but only one so far, with a moral lesson worth sharing. Phew (for you the readers, and for me, the writer)!

The distractions have been dancing around in my temporary memory; I’ve placed them there because I know they won’t last (which is a horrible way to look at potential love – but a realistic way to look at lust).

This boy satisfied aesthetically but failed on too many other more important counts. 

The first of his failures was his inability to understand instructions with ease.

He persisted. I resisted. 

Weirdly, this rejection flattered him, instilling in him the false belief that I was  playing hard to get when really there were no games here just some words that were sprayed to exterminate a pest…and like one of those horrible cockroaches that refuses to die, he just kept on keeping on. 

This boy came with the furniture we just bought for our home (so I guess that makes him a termite or something). He was the removalist.

Believe me, I think this is as funny as you do. 

I joked to a friend; 

“How would people refer to us? The reporter and the removalist?” (Yes, I’m a bit of a career snob)

“He’d be great for when we’re moving house or helping friend’s move (and then their go our weekends) but what am I supposed to do with him all the other days of the week?”

He was very attractive so I could look at him – but I’m a big believer in marrying your mental equal and his Jersey-Shore exterior didn’t quite have me convinced that he had a mind like Shakespeare’s.

My number was on the delivery slip so I received a few calls from him to “check” details after the delivery was made. I did my utmost to convince him to bring in our furniture and keep his courtship at the door. 

Our conversation went like this: 

“Can I keep calling you?” 

“You’d be wasting your time if you did,” 

“Why” 

“You’re 19 (yes forgot to mention that).That’s a little young for me” (I’m not at a point where I have to resort to cradle snatching (speaking of cradle snatching look at this clip I produced on The Morning Show that went GLOBAL this week: YAY: http://au.tv.yahoo.com/the-morning-show/video/-/watch/26372699/teen-bride-takes-on-critics/) 

“Look I know it’s normal to be scared of something as beautiful as me, I just wanna hang out one night,” he said (Now you’re both young and dumb). 

“I’m sure you can find someone your age,” I insisted. 

“You like brushing me off don’t you...and I think you’re being silly. We’re practically neighbours, we should just go out…we can even just be friends,” he pushed. 

“No thank you. I have plenty of friends.”

And just like that, the pest was controlled.

I’ve never been a fan of bugs. If I see an insect, I say KILL it, don’t sweep it up, don’t pick it up and throw it into the garden...just get rid of it. FOR GOOD!

I particularly don’t like those pestering creepy crawlies that persist after you’ve Morteined the life out of them. It’s clear you have no place for them in your home and such was the chase and capture of the removalist.

At least for a day, I had a story to retell and a lesson to learn; be careful what you wish for...because when what you wish for creeps in...you might just need some pest control.