Thailand is currently celebrating its traditional New Year, known as Songkran. Just like western cultures have their traditional ways of welcoming in the New Year (alcohol, fireworks, resolutions you never plan on keeping…), so do the Thais. The rituals of Songkran revolve around paying respects your elders, including family members, friends, neighbours and monks in the form of water blessings. The symbol of water is used to “wash away the bad” of the past year and cleanse the soul in preparation for the new year. Modern celebrations now see people take to the streets in what is possibly the world’s largest water fight/wet t-shirt competition, complete with high-pressured water hoses, buckets, water guns and anything else you can think of to get utterly soaking wet. It’s crazy fun.

But back to the traditional side of things for a moment. Besides Buddhism, water is used throughout all worldly religions as a symbol of cleansing and newness. And even for the most nonreligious person I’d argue that even the idea of a bath or shower makes you feel better, whether it’s physical or emotional.

Despite not having any religious ties to Songkran, I found myself intrigued by the ritual of cleaning away the old and bad and welcoming in the new and good.

The past year was full of personal challenges. I embraced turning 30 with all the excitement of a kid at Christmas, but what followed was an internal battle of head versus heart. I made choices that I thought I should as opposed to what I truly wanted. I dated guys who were great on paper but in reality it just didn’t seem right. I persevered with a job where nothing was really wrong with it, but I had a strong sense it wasn’t right for me or where I wanted my career to go. I kept settling for what I thought would make me happy, but at the same time couldn’t ignore the sense that I wasn’t quite fulfilled. And there were moments where I mentally beat myself up, saying it was either greedy or unrealistic to want more and that I should be happy with what I had.

So I embraced all the meaning of Songkran yesterday and took it as a chance to cleanse away my choices of the past and welcome in the idea of an exciting and adventurous future. I’m going to listen to my heart more and make a promise to be true to myself. After all, happiness is a choice and we are blessed with the ability and opportunity to decide for ourselves what that happiness looks and feels like.

This has made me realise I take the ability to communicate for granted. A lot.

In my newly discovered profoundness for putting things simply:

• We use too many words;
• We use too many big words we don’t know the true meaning of or don’t really add any meaning to what we’re saying; and
• We make $hit complicated when it doesn’t need to be.

You can probably picture my own light-bulb moment as a professioanl communicator when I realised that I need to change. And we (being professional PR and communcations people) are often the worst culprits.

In Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg’s new book “Lean In”, she recounts an experience of her boss, Mark Zuckerberg:

A few years ago, Mark decided to learn Chinese. To practice, he spent time with a group of Facebook employees who were native speakers. One might think Mark’s limited language skills would have kept these conversations from being substantially useful. Instead, they gave him greater insight into what was going on in the company. For example, one of the women was trying to tell Mark something about her manager. Mark didn’t understand so he said, “Simpler, please.” Then she spoke again, but he still didn’t understand, so he had to ask her to simplify further. This happened a few more times. Eventually, she got frustrated and blurted out, “My manager is bad!” She was still speaking Chinese, but simply enough that Mark understood.

Could you imagine if we all communicated this simply?! The mind boggles!!

I’m not sure when it happened, but I would predict that sometime since the invention of email we started to over-communicate. We try to explain what we’re trying to say instead of just saying it. We use big words in professional communcations in order to impress our peers, or from a consultant’s perspective we prepare big fat documents for clients in order to justify our hourly billings. Do they really read every single word we put on the pages? Honestly, who has the time when time is such a precious commodity in business these days?!

These thoughts have also made me stop to consider how we communicate when it comes to our personal relationships. Do we always say what we mean in the simplest way? This starts to open up a whole new kettle of fish about not wanting to offend people with verbal brutality, but one particular experience comes to mind where an ex-partner’s bluntly delivered statements were followed by, “I’m just being honest.” In actual fact I had no problem with the honesty (it was quite refreshing), however it was the delivery that sometimes got my back up.

So with these experiences and musings bubbling around my brain, I am starting to navigate the unfamiliar waters of clear and concise communication, in my personal and professional life. My new mantra: say what you mean and mean what you say.

My main motivation in deciding to move my life to Melbourne was to find love. A love for myself that I’d struggled to really feel for some time, a love for my career and to feel re-energised by what I do day in and day out, and romantic love. I had huge dreams for the next stage of my life, complete with a happy ever after that involved a great job, great friends, great home and great relationship. It seems Cinderella syndrome was alive and well in me.

At the time in my own heart, I was feeling empty. From the outside I seemed to have it all – great family, great friends, great job, great wardrobe. But I wasn’t connecting, and I felt myself taking it all for granted. I felt I needed to move away from it all in order to reconnect and appreciate all the great things I had. I also felt I needed to find my version of me after living in Brisbane for over 20 years surrounded by the safety of the bubble of friends and family.

So in October 2010, I bought a one-way ticket to Melbourne. And other than a few work colleagues and Twitter connections, I went about setting up a new life in a city I already knew I loved but knew nearly no one.

What ensued was an emotional and professional roller coaster - there were many exhilarating twists and turns, and there were some downright stomach-churning loop-the-loops. There were moments I squealed with joy, and moments I wanted to scream “Stop! I want to get off!”

Emotionally, I reconnected with old friends and made a fabulous set of new ones. That, in its own way, was tough at times and took more time than I thought it would. Some friendships I made didn’t stack up to expectations. Others exceeded them. Friendships I already had, no matter the distance, stayed just as water-tight as they had always been. And some turned out to be more leaky than a spaghetti strainer.

The dating scene proved just as unpredictable. From hook-ups to marriage proposals (drunken ones), I threw out the checklist (well, most of it…) and just went with the flow. What followed was an adventure of getting to know more about myself and the sort of person I am as much as it was opening up my life to someone new and letting them in. I can wholeheartedly say that for every nutbag that exists there is a great, kind, genuine guy – and I’m lucky enough to call some of those guys friends now. I also fell in love. For the first time in a really long time. While it didn’t work out, it showed me that I will feel that way again and that my heart will be open to it when it comes along. It also taught me to stop looking. So when it came to packing up my boxes for the next adventure which began a week ago, I threw out every dating book I owned.

As for my career, Melbourne held all the promise of a thriving metropolis full of opportunities to expand and broaden my professional horizons. I scored a job with a highly reputable PR agency and eagerly rocked up on my first day with all the excitement of a kid in a toy store. The next few months was hard – Melbourne may as well have been Mumbai. With a passion for sport and a keenness to be one of the first women in a senior PR role for a sporting team (any team would do!), I just couldn’t crack it. It was like rocking up to the movie halfway through and not having any clue of the story line. After the agency role didn’t work out, I decided to slow things down a bit and took a sideways step into an internal communications role with a retail business. It was a move that allowed me to live a life outside of work – no more evening events, Sunday night panics about being ready for a 9am team meeting and emails pinging on my phone at all times of the night. Instead, my evenings were filled with fun times with friends, more dates than a calendar, a ridiculous amount of music gigs, trying new bars, entertaining at home, and weekend trips away when I felt the urge. It was fantastic and fun and I loved (almost) every moment.

Then in December last year, just 10 days before Christmas, I lost my job. The next few weeks were pretty dark. I was utterly planless, feeling like I was stranded at sea without a paddle or a sail. Or even a life vest.  I had never been the girl who didn’t have a plan. But I’ve always had faith. Faith that somehow, someway, things work out. But the problem with that is patience has never been a strong point of mine. And keeping the faith often requires a LOT of patience.

The next eight weeks forced me to evaluate the past two and a bit years. The ups and downs, the good and bad, the beautiful and ugly, the easy and the hard. And boy, did it test my patience.

I had spent nearly every waking moment since mid-December chasing career opportunities in Melbourne – and I got pretty close on many of them. I even began freelancing with the view to establish my own business, balancing PR and launching a modeling agency. I loved my lifestyle, my apartment, my friends. But I couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right. I could usually envisage my plan. But my mind’s eye was blind. I couldn’t see a long term future in Melbourne anymore.

Then, just as Melbourne came out of the blue, another opportunity came right out of left field. Three weeks, three interviews and a dozen soul-searching phone calls and late night bottles of wine with friends later, I was packing my stuff into boxes, throwing out the dating books, and booking another one way ticket for an exciting career opportunity. In Bangkok, Thailand.

All of a sudden, it became clear that while Melbourne hadn’t provided me with the life I thought it would, it prepared me for a new adventure I could never have dreamed of.

Looking back, my move to Melbourne taught me three things:

1. People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. No matter the distance, relationships with people who are important to your life’s story will never change. And the ones that do aren’t worth hanging on to. 
2. Love yourself first. No one else will put your needs before theirs. So be true to you and what’s in your heart, and make no apologies for it.
3. Change is hard. But it gets easier when you just go with the flow, look at the positives, allow yourself moments to be sad, and keep moving and looking forward. Literally and metaphorically.

On Monday night last week, I landed in Bangkok for the first time ever. Today I start a new job with another global, highly-reputable PR agency. But my plans for this stage in my career and my life are different this time around.

Like I mentioned, I’ve thrown out the dating books and now they’ve been replaced by a few Lonely Planet guides for various Asian hot spots I can’t wait to explore, and books on leadership and Asian business management.

So when I step out into the hot, sticky air this morning from my new “condo” in central Bangkok, I’ll be renewing an old love. A love of helping people and brands communicate better. A love of working with like-minded people who enjoy celebrating success. A love of being in love with my job. And for the first time in a really long time, a sense of true faith that right now I’m exactly where I am meant to be.

Because, to be absolutely honest, it is NOT a true reflection of the quality of food and dining experiences you can find in other areas of Melbourne. If you’re visiting Melbourne and someone tells you that you simply must go to Lygon St for Italian – don’t. They don’t know Melbourne.

Lygon St is known for it’s faux-talian restaurants with charming yet kind of pesky hosts that accost, ahem I mean entice, passers-by with offers of free wine and bruschetta. I encourage you to smile and politely decline. Then hustle to some of my favourite spots if you’re looking for a more authentic experience.

When I moved to Melbourne, I ended up living in Carlton by pure chance, and over the past two years I have enjoyed exploring my local ‘hood and finding some of the lesser known, off-the-beaten track gems of Melbourne’s most infamous restaurant and cafe strip. So here are my top picks.

the Carlton Wine Room
172-174 Faraday Street
Like wine? Friendly yet professional service by knowledgable staff? And tasty, finger-licking-good morsels? Carlton Wine Room is a veritable education in Australian and international wines, pared with European-style “wine food” (read: bar snacks) and a la carte menu by chef Matthew Silovic (. Perched on the corner of Drummond and Faraday Streets (if you’re walking along Lygon St away from the city, turn right into Faraday when you reach FCUK on the corner and head to the next intersection), you can sit along the window and enjoy the kaleidoscope that is a Melbourne summer’s sky, or cosy up at one of the tables in winter. If you’re a local, the team also hosts a number of wine dinners featuring winemakers from near and far. Make sure you sign up to their enewsletter.

Carlton Espresso
326 Lygon Street
Best coffee on Lygon St. Hands down. That it’s also served by slick Italian guys who jostle each other behind the bar in their native tongue just makes it that more delicious. Breakfast is simple – fried egg and pancetto served on freshly baked panini buns for the Italian version of bacon and egg rolls, bircher museli for the health nuts, chocolate crepes for the unhealthy nuts. Pop in for lunch and there’s an array of freshly made foccacias and piadinas with a range of Italian-style fillings and ingredients. If you’re walking by in the evening, stop for a platter of Italian cured meats and cheeses with a glass of Italian wine. Then stay for dinner. Carlton Espresso serves the BEST pasta on Lygon St. Fresh, simple, full of flavour. I’ve never had a bad meal here. And as I mentioned about the Italian staff – it just makes it all the more authentic and enjoyable.

DOC Pizza & Mozzarella Bar
295 Drummond Street
Ok, so you’ve just read about Carlton Espresso and wondering why I didn’t mention pizza? Well, just around the corner on the opposite corner to the Carlton Wine Room on Drummond and Faraday (turn right at Grill’d and walk to the next intersection) is their sister restaurant DOC who purely serves, you guessed it, pizza. And just like the pasta at Carlton Espresso – it’s fresh, simple and full of flavour. The bases are cooked to perfection and the variety of toppings is sure to satisfy even the most fussy of pizza eaters. Just please don’t ask for Hawaiian. Please. Oh, and if you happen to have room for dessert, I have it on very good authority that the tiramisu is to die for.

Hotel Lincoln
91 Cardigan Street
Voted 3AW’s “Pub of the Year” in 2011, Hotel Lincoln is your typical Melbourne corner (gastro)pub. Despite the original building being more than 150 years old, it has undergone a facelift in recent years keeping its art deco beauty alive. And this classic simplicity carriers over into Lincoln’s food, drinks and service. Perch yourself at the long bar if you’re on your Pat Malone and chat away with the bartenders about everything from the weather to wine. Or if you’re with a group, commandeer one of the tables along the windows or near the fireplace (a particularly popular spot in winter). The wine list features local and international wines by the glass and bottle, along with a wide range of beers and spirits. If you’re after food, the bar menu includes finger-licking-good nibbles and more substantial meals, but not your parma-and-pot-type sorry. Think whitebait, duck rillette, chicken liver parfait – all full of flavour and under $10. A peek past the bar into the restaurant area reveals a intimate tables resplendent with crisp white linen and sparkling glassware. The menu is somewhat more upmarket than the bar with entrees ranging from $16-21 and mains $26-35, including a great range of steaks for the meat-atarians. The menu is seasonal and there’s a clear European influence while relying on what’s availably locally and in season.

Saigon Pho
106 Lygon Street
The biggest, most fresh and delicious bowl of pho you’ll have this side of… Victoria Street, Richmond. Super cheap, super friendly and super fast.

Carlton Curry House
108 Lygon Street
I’m not sure what I love more about this place. The food or the decal in the window that says “Melbourne’s second best Indian food, as voted in 2007″. Makes me giggle every time. They do all the expected favourites (Butter Chicken – yum) in generous servings and the smells that waft through the restaurant will make you salivate as you wait for your order. If you’re a local, you can order online. And have it delivered. You’ll thank me in winter. You’re welcome.

Brunetti’s
194-204 Faraday Street
Ok, ok, ok. No trip to Lygon Street is complete without a stop at the Melbourne institution that is Brunetti’s. Despite how much you eat at dinner, there’s always room for dessert. Come 9pm on any night of the week/weekend, this place is packed to the rafters with friends and family catching up over cannoli and coffees (or Italian hot chocolates), the chatter bouncing off the polished cement floors and endless glass cabinets full of enough sugary goodness to put Willy Wonka in a diabetic coma.

Ok, so there are my top pics. Do you have one? Or a place you think I should try? I’d love to hear your Lygon Street favourites.

Dear readers,

This article appears in the February 2013 edition of Madison (pages 39-41). I read it recently and just had to share – there are so many thoughts that resonate with my own. Happy reading and thank you Madison and Sara.

Marissa

On my first date with Mark, he asked how long it had been since my last relationship. I looked at the table, cupping my hand around my beer. I’d always hated this question. It seemed so brazenly evaluative – an employer enquiring about a gap in your CV, a dental hygienist asking how often you floss.

I knew he wasn’t appraising me. We had worked together for two months, and in this crowded bar we spoke with the easiness and candour of good friends – he told me about the pain of his divorce, the financial strain, and the loneliness. He had been hanging around my office, sending flirty emails and – most adorable to me and mortifying to him – would blush whenever I spoke to him. He was kind of in the bag.

But still I didn’t answer. I didn’t want him to know the truth: that I was 39 and hadn’t had a serious boyfriend in eight years. I had seen men baulk at this information before – even when the numbers were lower. They would look at me in a cool and curious way, as if I were a restaurant with too few customers, a house that had been on the market for too long. One man actually said it: “What’s wrong with you?” “I don’t know,” I answered. “But you’re attractive,” he’d said, as if he wasn’t sure anymore. “I don’t know what to tell you,” I replied. “I don’t know why.”

Now, faced with Mark’s innocent question, I hedged. “A long time,” I said quickly. Mark didn’t seem to notice the evasion. He sipped his beer and we moved onto other topics – our co-workers, Douglas Coupland novels – and then, on a street corner outside the bar, to our first kiss. I knew I would eventually have to tell him. But not yet.

When my long-ago date asked that questions – “What’s wrong with you?” – I was, of course, outraged. I finished my drink and made the excuse that I had to get up early. But honestly, his question was no worse than the one I asked myself nearly every day. It wasn’t full-blown self-loathing, more a hollowness that hit me in the chest at certain times – a long train journey home from a mediocre date, a phone conversation with a married friend who suddenly has to go as her husband has just taken the roast out of the oven.

My solace came from the place where single women usually find it: my other single friends. We would gather on week nights, swapping funny and tragic stories of our dismal dating lives, reassuring on another of our collective beauty, intelligence and kindness, and marvelling at the idiocy of men who failed to see this in our friends. Mostly, we would try to make sense of it all. Were our married friends really so much more desirable than we were? Once in a while someone would declare that married women were actually miserable, that is was they who envied us. But this theory never got too far. We knew our married friends wouldn’t swap places with us, no matter how much they complained about their husbands.

Of course, there are many popular books and television shows that detail the lives of single women, but in those stories, adorable men constantly approach the heroines in parks and at bus stops to ask them to dinner. The sitcom single woman never stays on her own for long. She skips from one man to the next, changing boyfriends as frequently as she does handbags. My friends and I had various dates and mini-relationships, but mostly we were alone.

While many of us watched and enjoyed these shows – and didn’t entirely mind when people remarked that our lives were “just like” the protagonists’ – the stereotype they created of the over-30, man-hunting singleton cast a shadow over us. Being an unattached woman who would rather not be somehow also meant that you were an airhead, a bimbo who had few concerns beyond shopping, pedicures, and “Will he call?” My friends and I had no interest in shopping or pedicures, but that didn’t stop us from feeling wildly embarrassed that we longed for love.

Admitting that you wanted a husband – much less that you were distraught you didn’t have one – seemed like a betrayal of feminism. We were supposed to be better than this. Not that any actual feminist sad it was so awful to want a relationship. The emails we received from women’s rights organisations focussed on reproductive rights and equal pay, not dating and marriage.

Professing a need for love could also be taken as evidence that you aren’t ready for it. One December night when I was having drinks with a married male friend, he grew exasperated with my (admittedly annoying) complaints about having  to spend yet another festive season without a partner. “Sara, you are so together in almost every way,” he said. “But on this one topic you turn into this ridiculous girl!” Like single women everywhere, I had bought into the idea that the problem must be me, that there was some essential flaw – low self-esteem, fear of commitment – that needed to be fixed. I needed to be fixed.

As a freelance writer, I couldn’t afford a good therapist, but my job did give me access to some of the country’s best mental health professionals. As I wrote articles on first dates and break-ups, I interviewed psychology professors and therapists, shamelessly peppering the conversation with anecdotes from my own life. I was trying to get to the root of the problem for the benefit of womankind… and for myself.

I also talked to a lot of self-help authors. There was the Tough Love Married Lady who declared the key to finding a soulmate was to grow up, quit whining and do something about your hair. There was the Magical Soulmate Finder who prescribed keeping a journal, long hikes, candlelit bubble baths and other hocus-pocus. And there was The Man (ie a moderately cute guy who wrote a book), who gave insider tips on how to hook up with him, which involved not being critical and having long hair.

So, I grew my hair. I took bubble baths. And, of course, I started examining my issues. Was my failure a result of my latent commitment phobia (cleverly masked as really wanting a commitment), as one helmut-haired expert implied? Did I feel inherently unworthy and broadcast that low self-assessment to every man I met? (Another gentle suggestion.) Did my failure to “love myself” mea I was unable to love another?

Or was I not positive enough? The experts agreed that a positive attitude was very important for attracting men. Sure, I could see the point, but this is not my strength. I believe global warming is real and heaven is a fantasy. I believe people who thing “everything happens for a reason” must have never opened a newspaper. Some may call it negative. I call it realistic.

A lot of good things happened during my period of reconstructing Sara 2.0. I went to artists’ colonies, taught storytelling to young people from disadvantaged backgrounds, adopted a rescue dog, learned to do a handstand – all under the banner of “Learning To Love My Single Life”. And I made sure everyone knew my life was super-duper awesome, with or without a man. My adorable flat! My fulfilling career! My amazing friends!

But I also knew I couldn’t play that card too often, lest the Greek chorus conclude that my well-oiled life left no room for love. As a male friend once told me, “Sometimes you meet a woman who has her act so together, you think, ‘What the hell does she need me for?’”

My efforts yielded many new friends and filled my calendar with fulfilling activities. I went on internet dates, speed dates and blind dates. I had great hair and a confident smile. But I was still alone. And in the dark of a Saturday night, I still asked myself, “What’s wrong with me?”

Mark and I dated for a month before I revealed my shoddy relationship resume. When I did, he shrugged. “Lucky for me all those other guys were idiots,” he said. That was it. To Mark, I was not a problem to solve or a puzzle that needed working out. I was the girl he was falling in love with, just as I was falling in love with him.

Six years later, last June, he and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. My close friends – the ones with whom I had shared many impromptu therapy sessions – had come to the wedding in a small park. And so had their husbands.

Did we find love because we grew up, got real and worked through our issues? No. We just found the right guys. We found men who love us even though we’re cranky and neurotic, haven’t got our careers together, sometimes talk too loudly, drink too much and swear at the TV news. We have grey hairs, unfashionable clothes and bad attitudes. They love us anyway.

What’s wrong with me? Plenty. But that was never the point.

It’s taken since October 2010 to do the rounds, so here is a summary of the city’s best picks including my favourites:

The Cupcake Bakery
Dotted around Melbourne’s most accessible spots including Chadstone Shopping Centre, corner of Flinders Lane & Elizabeth St in the city and Chapel Street (and now with shops in Sydney and Brisbane as well), these guys do my favourite Red Velvet with Cream Cheese icing. It’s traditional, it’s got the perfect cake to icing ratio and its under $4. Winner. They also offer the standard vanilla/chocolate combinations and a heap of deluxe combinations for the more adventurous. I hear the Molten Chocolate is worth crossing town for – try zapping it in the microwave.

Joy Cupcakes
I first heard of these little bundles of Joy in an article about their impressive retail design at Westfield Doncaster, so when they opened up a little closer to home in Chadstone I had to check them out. Sadly their spot at the Fashion Capital is merely a “kiosk”. Just as sadly I wasn’t so impressed with their cupcakes. The standard sizes (which were slightly on the small size for me) are all $4, with bite-sized “giggles” for $2.50. I was impressed they offer nut-free, vegan and gluten-free options. Just make sure you buy two – the presentation boxes are pretty darn cute.

Little Cupcakes
One of my favourite spots in one of my favourite Melbourne laneways is Little Cupcakes on Degraves, off Flinders Lane in the city. You can’t go past one of their boxes of 12 minis to get a good sample of different flavours. Not to mention they’re perfect to share. Or not.

Cupcake Central
The trek to Hawthorn is worth it… and also the perfect excuse to check out the warehouse-like Bed Bath & Table “The Works” on Hawthorn Rd just around the corner. Or just check out the one in Melbourne Central. These guys first caught my attention with a Black Velvet cupcake. But my favourite of theirs is the Vanilla Vanilla. Classic.

Sugardough Bakery
I hear these guys on Lygon St in Brunswick are more famous for their breakfasts than their cupcakes but if you’re a sucker for the nostalgic, check them out. I love that they don’t do anything fancy, just good old fashioned vanilla cake with thick sugary icing. Yum.

Cupcakes by Paolo
I always happen to wander past their stand at the Suzuki Night Markets every summer and have had only sampled them once, but I can see why cupcake connoisseurs make the weekly pilgrimage to their stand at the Footscray Markets. If you’re feeling a touch adventurous, go their Signature Brown & Blue. And the poke out your tongue!

A quick google search has revealed a few (new-ish) others I might have to try in the coming months, including:
Merry Cupcakes
Mister Nice Guy Cupcakes

Would love to hear if you’ve got a favourite Melbourne cupcake spot.

What’s on your list?

There’s a little Christmas ditty doing the rounds about lists, checking it twice along with who has been naught v nice. You know the one.

It’s that time of year, isn’t it? List time, I mean. What to cook, what to buy, who to buy for, what to finish at work before taking a few hard-earned days off, what needs to be done around the house during the holidays, what movies to watch. Sure, you might not have your lists scrawled in your diary like moi, but you’re still thinking about them.

Which got me thinking about another sort of list. A little list most of us single (and even coupled) people have about what they want in a significant other.

I once heard of a girl who wrote her Dream Guy List and left one copy under her pillow so she would dream of him at night and one in her wallet (something to do with good fortune I think). In my opinion, I thought she was a bit nuts. But more so when I found out said list had more than 50 things on it. Yup, 50.

And guess what? She’s still single.

When I asked a male friend if he had a list of what he looks for in potential girlfriend material his immediate reply was “hot, with a pulse”. I felt I needn’t have asked…

I have been single now for eight years (OK, you can take that look of shock off your face please) and I have dated an assortment of different guys. Tall, short, large, lean, professional, trades person  funny, serious, older, younger, outgoing, shy, dark hair, blonde hair, Australian, American, English, New Zealander, never-married, divorced, rich, poor.

The only physical attribute that is left on my list is tall. I know that when I walk into a bar, or any room for that matter, I immediately look for the tallest guy in the room. Basically anyone whose head I can see above mine gets a look in.

But the other stuff that’s on my list more describes the quality of relationship I’m looking for. Honest, open, emotionally mature, fun, adventuresome, secure, family-focused, driven, affectionate, equal. And I’ve dated enough to know that the type of relationship I want can manifest with any number of types of guys.

So, what I’d like to know is: Do you have a list and is it working for you in your dating endeavors? Or did you have a list and wound up with someone who either ticked all the boxes or completely broke the mould?

Sometimes this feels like me…

My debut Melbourne public speaking event has been and gone and a few of you have already asked… “So, how did it go?!”

To refresh, I was invited by the team at 7pm Anywhere to speak at “Dating in Melbourne” on Wednesday night alongside dating coach Chris Manak. Despite Melbourne traffic’s ability to thwart my attempt for an early arrival, I toddled into Loop Bar a few mintues late and took my spot on the stage infront of an eager audience.

I had heard more than 100 people had descended onto the first “Dating in Melbourne” event in November, so was somewhat relieved to find a more intimate group of 50-odd ready and waiting, perched on the edge of their comfortably padded seats eagerly anticipating any light we could shed on the secrets to successful dating.

Prior to Wednesday night, I sought counsel from fellow dater Little Miss Melbourne just to bounce a few ideas and points-of-view off. I was very relieved to see her (and some other fellow girlfriends) in the audience for moral support (thank you!).

Well, surprisingly I learned two things:

1. Guys and girls really aren’t all that different. Mars and Venus? Hmmm, not so much.
2. I know more about dating than I thought I did and really should heed my own advice once in a while.

We covered quite a few topics in the space of an hour, but the main takeaways were:

1. Happiness attracts happiness. As soon as you get all the facets of your life “together”, that someone will come along. It’s the Law of Attraction. Ask anyone you know in a happy relationship.
2. Focus on what you DO want in a potential partner, not what you DON’T want. If you keep telling yourself you “don’t want to date jerks/bimbos” then that is inevitably what you’ll end up doing. Embrace the Power of Positive Thinking.
3. Girls, it’s ok to ask guys out. But do it nicely and remember your manners. Ok, that last bit applies to guys too.
4. Want to know great places to meet people? Seems the old tried-and-true methods are just that. Bars, work, local coffee shop, gym. Think about places you like going to/spending time in and if you see someone that catches your eye, chances are they also enjoy the same things and it gives you something in common to kick off a conversation.
5. There’s no such thing as a “perfect first date”. It’s all about the connection you have with the person you’re with that makes it “perfect”. A word of caution though, if the first date is perfect then where does it go after that? Try not to set your expectations too high.
6. Try not to take rejection personally. After all, wouldn’t you rather hear a no than be left kicking yourself and wondering what if? Also, if they’re rude when they reject you, then you probably wouldn’t want to date them anyway, right?
7. If you’re giving the rejection, give it gracefully. Refer to point 3. Manners are free. So are compliments. And your kind rejection might just give the rejectee the confidence to approach someone else and THAT could work out to be a winner. How nice is that?!

It was a tad humbling to be approached after the presentation by a few audience members, both guys and girls, who thanked me for my insights and sought advice on their current dating situations.

It sounds like the 7pm Anywhere team has some grand plans for 2013, so watch this space…

Speaking of time creeping up on me, a few weeks ago I was invited to take part in an event hosted by new online dating site 7pm Anywhere. I excitedly accepted – I love talking and I love talking about dating even more, so this is right up my alley.

And then it dawned on me yesterday the event is THIS WEEK. *cue moment of panic*

It’s entitled “Dating in Melbourne” and I guess considering I’ve been doing exactly that for two and a bit years that I’ve got a few experiences and points-of-view to reflect on. However, I’m confident that mine isn’t the be-all-and-end-all when it comes to Dating.

So, help a gal out here. Please?

I’d LOVE to hear what you think your city’s dating culture is. You don’t have to be from Melbourne, anywhere is fine. Based on chatter with friends from other cities, near and far, I’m pretty sure there are going to be some similarities.

As a prompter, here are the questions/topics that will be discussed on Wednesday:

• Where are the best places (in Melbourne) to meet people?
• How to ask a random person out for a date? 
• What’s the lowdown on women asking men out?
• How long to wait before… calling, kissing, sleeping over, etc?
• Is there such a thing as ‘the perfect first date’?

Oh, and if you want to come and hear what I have to say (or just heckle from the audience) here are the event details. Make sure you say hi. I’ll be the girl up the front doing the talking.

Reblogged from :

Monica muses on the divide.

I made the leap a year ago. The leap from ‘single’ to ‘taken.’ Not much changed, to be honest. I was already living with my now-boyfriend, in a housemate capacity. We’d already been “benefitting,” as tends to happen when two happy-hour fans move in together. What changed was our status. Literally speaking – on facebook. …

Read more… 542 more words