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.

Flatter, Flutter, Flee

By Miriam Eryan 

They say good things come in threes…the same rule applies for confusing things. The object of my confusion is mankind and his brotherhood. Men claim to be simple so I’ve simply categorized them in a tripartite division.

It’s the flatter, flutter, flee syndrome where one man will flatter you just because he can. This breed exists merely to remind you that some men have their vision and values in check. They keep you optimistic about finding that rare gentleman who will look without touch, who sees and believes and who will testify to the choir. 

The other man has your heart a flutter, your eyelashes batting. He ‘gives you fever’ but he that speaks idle words has a loveless heart and lustful agenda. This one is most cunning because he keeps you wanting more; key in ignition, he revs your engine but has a short battery life and once he’s taken you for a spin or two, you’re ditched on a sidewalk negatively charged. 

The third flees BC – that is before charming you or having the chance to be charmed. He is also known as the taken man, the gay man or as much as we hate to admit it, the uninterested. 

Last week, I had encounters with all three and my column was inspired by a scene from my much beloved Sex and the City. It’s where Carrie meets Berger the charming writer with a girlfriend (the latter fact omitted from his conversation). He was your typical ‘Flatter Man’ – sweet, charming, courteous, taken! He flattered, fled and the fireworks though seemingly undeniable where hastily put out – hindered by his missus. 

I’ve met a few Bergers in my short existence and increasingly, biting into an aged burger is losing its appeal as the subject fails to satiate the hunger for a relationship. Having reached expiry, the situation wreaks of desperation so while I maintain friendship, I’m almost certain, I’ll NEVER have fries with that!

The second type of man, I met at the gym. I’ve never quite understood why men find sweaty, smelly women attractive so when I’m attracting the primordial male at my ugliest in my track-pants, I’m always expecting someone to jump out and tell me I’m being punk’d. Cynicism aside, the askmen article (http://au.askmen.com/top_10/dating_100/134b_dating_list.html) rings true and with every drop of perspiration comes a man with flirty conversation. This of course is to our horror because when you approach we have panda eyes, red faces and sweaty hair – not quite pageant material. This man, I believe approaches because his carnal instincts see a woman work hard, sweat plenty who presumably, will play, work and sweat in satisfactory proportions. He; muscular and ego injected attempts to inflate your sense of self with his flattery as your steroid. Your heart muscle goes into overdrive. Be weary though, neither heart attack nor drug addiction was ever positive outcomes of a crush. You turn to perve on the quieter, more desirable, less approachable guy beside him. 

This guy is the one not interested. He doesn’t catch your gaze, he looks for beauty elsewhere and he doesn’t see you. He flees or you flee from embarrassment because the idea of unrequited love is a) repulsive b) disappointing but also c) promising because some men have eyes only for their partner and no adrenalin charged flattery, gym induced sweat or flirty banter will seduce him into slipping up. He’s the one you’re after and also the one you can’t have. The sayings are always true – you ALWAYS want what’s out of reach. 

Clichés as common, tried and uncreative as they may be, exist because they resonate with us. In keeping with clichés, happy endings are the clichés that happily end romantic comedies and that’s what this life is – a tale of funny flirtations with a happy ending that is luxurious in feeling as the velvet curtains that follow our final bows. 

Shakespeare knew exactly what he was talking about when he called the world a stage. He valued play and gave us midsummer night’s dreams to act out and see comedy in our dating errors; fleeing from each scene that threatens our happiness. 

With this in mind, learn the script, know the characters but remember to improvise and shock into sincerity – that’s when truest selves are revealed.