Maybe it’s a sad indictment of the times but my persistent moaning that real life is boring is constantly met with the ‘answer’(mainly from the smug couples) that I would be perfectly happy back in England if I wasn’t single!
This answer varies, but it’s along the lines of “no one can be truly happy without someone to share it all with.” The fact that I no longer have an ‘it all’ to share, seems to have escaped them.
Not one to be put off by the facts, I have taken to the unadulterated horror of online dating and am wholeheartedly embracing the search to find one worthy of sharing my nothing.
When I first came back to England at the age of 31 with exciting reports of dating a Swiss architect and later, a French 21 year old – it was pointed out to me that having spent two years in Australia looking for sponsorship, it may have been a shrewder move to have dated a native.
Indeed it would.
However, by the time I was single I only had a month left on the visa – I‘d like to say that stopped me but you know it didn’t.
I hastily hashed-together a ‘Find an Aussie Husband’ plan that consisted of hanging out in places like Establishment and The Ivy pool bar.
I’d been a regular in these bars several times a week but this time I wasn’t leaping in the pool in a little black dress, clutching a double Malibu and pineapple.
No. This time I was swishing about in my attempt at a ‘power-suit’, sipping on a glass of sparkling white and pretending to know about the Australian stock market.
A week in and I came closer to De Facto heaven in the shape of Hugo-James. 44 and working as CEO of a pharmaceutical company and with a strong desire to settle down and start a family, he was a nice fit to the bill.
Promising. And so, predictably, here starts the downfall. Well, several drinks later.
As the evening was wrapping-up, the pivotal point lay before me.
Hugo: “It’s a real pleasure Sara, you’re attractive, intelligent, cultured, everything a hard working businessman would want in a wife that takes care of him.
Now, the correct answer would be. “
Thank you” *insert shy, unassuming smile* “You’re very kind and it’s a pleasure meeting you too, Hugo”
Only…being around Australians brings out an exaggerated state of Britsh-ness in me and our natural inclination towards self-deprecation seemed to just speak up, all on its own…
“Ha ha ha. You’re kidding? I don’t cook, I’ve never owned an iron and I once thought El Salvador was a cocktail.”
Silence. *shy, unassuming smile*. Taxi
So. Wish me luck. I just might need it.