I am my own worst enemy when it comes to relationships and keep dating people who I know things won’t work out with. But I don’t spend my nights crying at Bridget Jones (much) I still find picking myself up and getting back on the beers is more appropriate.
I too often find myself seeing guys with more important priorities than me. My first boyfriend who I was with for four years was studying to become an architect. It was an intense course with long unsociable hours, lots of trips away, weekend site visits and it stressed him out a lot. I was young and naïve so I knew no better than to accept my role as his boyfriend was to play second fiddle to his course.
So despite knowing all of that I found myself on a date the other weekend with a guy doing the exact same course at the same university. He was in his last year of the seven year degree and architecture had taken over his life. It took 3 weeks to organise the date after first meeting in a bar, because he was so busy with his projects. I should have taken that as a warning sign, but I perused with the date.
I persevered with the date mainly because he was tall, really well built with green eyes and slight browny-ginger hair and stubble and sexy scouse accent. Exactly my type. We grabbed lunch one afternoon and followed it with a walk around the local common. He was cute and charming and really good kisser, however aside from his architecture didn’t have many other interests and because of his architecture didn’t have time for any other hobbies, or more importantly, a boyfriend.
I’m someone who needs constant stimulation, good conversation and a lot of attention, so deep down knew it wasn’t going to work out, which was a huge shame as I had high hope for this hottie.
Antipodean men however aren’t typically short on energy, enthusiasm and never turn down a night out. Perfect for me. I have dated several boys with cute Kiwi accents, but alas with their dulcet tone also comes a limited time left on their visas making them another common occurrence on my route to heartbreak hotel. The different passports are exotic at first. I imagine us jetting of together and getting married in a sunnier climate. However, just as I’ve finished packing the kitchen sink and my best AussieBums, the boy in question has already organised his leaving party on Facebook.
Being lucky in love is something I’ve never been prone to, however something I don’t let put me off. I mean, aside from the achy breaky heart and passive aggressive mood swings, in the grand scheme of things I kind of relish in my failures and am proud of getting out there and trying to tame the wild dating horse.
Anytime I have a catch up with mates over a beer, the conversation soon turns to my relationship situation. And I have a confession to make…
I play the unfortunate victim to my settled down friends, especially the straight ones who are in long term relationships waiting for me to catch up with them. It does them well to think I’m on the hunt for a husband, but underneath the dating profiles and civilised coffees and lunctime rendez-vous with eligible bachelors I’m also out clubbing, grinding against boys in bars, being a carefree young gay guy in London, having a bloody good time slagging it about a bit.
For now, I like my life with more crazy than quo in my status. So, see you at the bar?