Trauma at the spray tanning clinic


Anyway, in a promise to keep updating and because I’m going all softly softly on the whole accepting dates thing, I’ll just slip in an out-of-sequence post about my spray tan experience.

This was before Mr F, so I’m totally feeling pretty hot and desirable despite the disasters because I have a calendar full of dates for the week.  I may have even wagged my finger at some people and called them ‘girlfriend’, but if I did, I would have given that up real quick in response to their reactions.  Yeah, apparently I don’t wear ‘cocky’ too well.  Obviously some deity or other decided I was getting a bit too cocky and sent Mr F to punish me.

Some sort of mega cosmic karma or something also saw one of those group buying deals pop into my inbox to get a night of speed dating for just $29 (normally $89.95).  I went and had a look at the website and it seems to be constantly running events for all different age groups, so I’m looking forward to picking one and testing it out (and reporting back, of course).

Speaking of those group buying deals, I got one for three spray tans for $24 a little while back and decided to use one. Because everyone knows it’s a proven scientific fact that brown fat looks better than white fat.

You know what you probably shouldn’t do in life?  You probably shouldn’t get a bargain basement spray tan.  That’s what you probably shouldn’t do.

So I arrive at this place and despite its very glamorous name, it is a dingy little shopfront that’s not even open yet, so I have to sit outside in my carefully chosen super-loose caftan thingie hoping it doesn’t blow open to reveal I’m not wearing any knickers.

Finally this dodgy looking guy, fag hanging out of his mouth, opens up the place about an hour and a half after the opening times displayed on the door.  He grunts at me over a threateningly hanging ash and beckons me inside.

Muttering something about “should’ve never signed up to this scam” when he sees my coupon, he orders me into a booth, tells me to strip and put on the paper g-string and wait for him.

Um… wait for him?  “Are you going to spray me?” I ask.

“Do you see anyone else here?” he says.  “You can wait for a female tanner, but there’s no opening for a few days and you’ll lose one of your tans.  Read the small print.  24 hours cancellation policy applies.”

For the sake of $8, I probably should have pulled a bit of dignity out of my caftan and hightailed it out of there, but I couldn’t stand the idea of looking like an albino whale for a day longer and decided to go through with it.

Traumatic is the only way to describe the next fifteen minutes or so as I stood there in my badly fitting g-string while a guy with a gun demanded I lift this fold and that fold and stand in all sorts of vaguely pornographic poses so that he could ensure each bit of flesh got its brown on.  At least he got rid of the fag while he did it.

When it was finally finished and I was left alone with the funny blowdryer tube (“don’t forget to lift up and dry under all the folds or it’ll be streaky” he warns me), I must have stayed in there half an hour because I was too embarrassed to face him again.

The end result was that I looked a little less whale-like and the colour was thankfully natural enough (and streak-free, because I dried the HELL out of all my folds) and it was almost worth the trauma.  I even used the other two coupons later on, but I made SURE a female tanner was available!


I found LOVE! Oh… hang on a minute


Sorry all for not updating for so long, but I do have an excuse.

There were a couple of dates so nondescript that I’ve pretty much forgotten them and so won’t be blogging them.  So lets skip dates 7 and 8.

So, Date No 9.. let’s call him Fucknarsewipeguttertrawlingpigman (I knew there was a reason I didn’t use an “F” name on Date No.6) was fantastic.  He looked like his profile pics (which I needed a password to see), he was someone I found attractive, but not everyone would, he was funny, attentive, disarmingly not perfect.  So I figured he was perfect.

Therefore, I wrote him off as Not Possibly Interested In Me.  By that I mean I went home desperately trying not to hope he would call, assuming he wouldn’t and urgently trying not to think about him whilst all the time sneakily thinking about him when I thought I wouldn’t notice.

An agonising three days later he rang and suggested we go out to dinner.  He picked a restaurant about a zillion miles away from where I live.  It was a cute little place, but I wouldn’t have picked it as worth driving 40 minutes for.  The date was though and four hours later, toey as hell, I heard Kate’s copy of The Rules exploding as I agreed to a private nightcap.  I was a wee bit surprised when he suggested my place, being so far away, but he said his place was no closer so why he picked that restaurant was a mystery.

Anyway, I’m not going to give you any gory details, but suffice to say I let his snake run amok in my ladygarden that night and then just about every night for the next couple of weeks.  Always at my place.  And a couple of times he had to cancel suddenly.  But the laughs we had when we were together were just fabulous.

See all those flashing neon warning signs up above?  You’d have to be some sort of moron to miss them right?  Meet Patty the Plain Plump Moron.

There’s a good reason I’ve been ignoring the blog for the last six weeks or so.  I thought I’d found someone and desperately didn’t want him finding my musings.  I even considered deleting the whole thing, but then thought I was being a bit up myself because I haven’t exactly got a cult following.

But, of course, in case you’re as stupid as I am at regonising the warning signs, Date 9 turned out to be Married Guy.  He actually had the nerve to tell me we had to stop seeing each other because his wife was coming back from her holiday, like it should have been something I should just accept and it was the most normal thing in the world.  Yes, I’d asked if he’d ever been married before (answer: yes, a long time ago).

Naturally I went all psycho bitch and reported his profile, which has now been taken down.

So all this happened a few weeks ago and I’ve been wallowing in my misery, regaining the pounds I’d been going to blog about losing and irrationally hating all men.  But now I’ve decided I’m ready to get back on the dating horse.  I have a friend who’s willing to go speed dating with me and I’m going to update and reactivate my dating site profiles.

I’m sure I’ll recognise those signs if they ever pop up again, right?

Anyway, thanks all for the messages while I’ve been away and I promise to diligently keep updating from now.



A couple of apologies


Apology 1:  I’m sorry I haven’t updated the blog in so long.  I do have an excuse and will try and write up a new post tonight.  Thank you so much for all the encouraging posts asking where I’ve been.

Apology 2: Yesterday I got a huge spike of hits from a site called Australian Frequent Flyer.  Apparently someone thought they recognised Date No.2.  I really don’t mean to hurt anyone and I change a few essential characteristics of my dates, so if anyone thinks they recognise someone from a description I’ve given, they’re very likely to be wrong.

Date 6 – Invisible Man


Anyway, the next date was a lunchtime coffee date.  I actually had pretty high hopes for this date – the guy was new to the site, looked very presentable and seemed to have read my profile quite thoroughly, judging by the witty bantery emails we exchanged.

I arrived right on time and sat down. Told the waiter I was waiting for a friend, so wouldn’t be ordering just yet. Told him the same thing five minutes later. And five minutes again after that. The next time he was starting to look at me with a depressing amount of pity in his eyes.

I waited a full 25 minutes before I got up and scurried out, ducking my head as I passed the waiter, who by this time had “poor plain plump stood-up loser” written all over his face.
Of course i tortured myself wondering whether he had come in to the cafe, taken one look at me and run and secretly hoped he’d really been hit by a runaway steamroller or something rather than just rejected me outright.

I sent him an email when I got home asking what happened, but have heard nothing back.
On another note, I downloaded the Blendr app and have had lots of fun with the messages on that. There’s no doubt that the vast majority of guys are looking for a bit of rumpy pumpy, but I’m hoping I might score a date or two out of it. I might also have a look at the Oasis app, inspired by the comment of Giantess.
I picked up a voucher for speed dating with Fast Impressions and was totally looking forward to doing that until I read Sam de Brito’s column about it today. Anyone had any experience with Fast Impressions?  At least it only cost me $29. I think they’re still available on the LivingSocial coupon site if anyone’s interested.

Sorry for the crap post. I’m on holiday and doing it on my iPhone, which is bloody hard work.


Bad Date No.2 gets better


Okay,  I am writing up the other dates I’ve been on in the past week or so, but I had to write this interim post describing what happened today.

I left this morning for the marvelous BrisVegas for a couple of days and who should i bump into at the airport but Mr Bad Date No.2, Frequent Flyer Man.  He was quite hard to miss, really, being the size he is and waving like one of those big inflatable advertising figures whilst yelling “Hey Patty!”

Any attempts to ignore him were thwarted by the helpful soul next to me who went from nudge to downright shove as she informed me that the mammoth man was trying to get my attention. I thanked her sweetly and waved at Mr Miles.

We went through all the “fancy seeing you here”s and then he asked how long I had to wait for my flight. As it happens, I get super duper excited when I fly anywhere for pleasure and tend to get to the airport early to do a bit of plane spotting. Add to this flight delays on Qantas today and I had over a 3 hour wait to look forward to.

“Have I got a treat for you” he said. Hoping that the treat wasn’t something like the chance to do the wild thing with him, I bravely followed him.

Well, he whisked me into the Qantas Club which would have been cool enough, but then we kept going through the Qantas Club through a magical discreet door, where he flashed his Platinum card and suddenly I was in Business Lounge World. It’s nice in here – lots of free wine – and not cruddy crap wine either – and little pastries and really REALLY yummy party pies, as well as super comfy seats at the great big window where I can watch all the planes.

And I really have to be nicer about Mr Miles, because he had a plane to catch right away, so he just said “Enjoy” and left me here.

So here I am, swanning it up in the Qantas Business Lounge, on to about my fifth glass of red and about to head off on a holiday. Life could suck a whole lot more right now.

Date 5 – Bitter Man


So again I haven’t updated and the reason for that is I’ve been busy dating!

All fired up from last weekend, I bravely responded to about half the guys left in my inbox.  A veritable flurry of email communication followed and dates were set up.

The first was an after-work drink date with a guy whose profile described him as ‘adventurous and a real man.’  The bellringer for those warning bells must’ve been taking a sickie I guess.

I arrived to find a rather pissed-off looking guy, somewhat rotund and tapping his fingers on the table.  Let’s call him Ernest.  I really want to give him a lame-sounding name (deepest apologies to any non-lame Ernests out there).

“Typical woman being late,” he greeted me in that faux ‘I’m joking but not really’ way people do.

It was two minutes past our agreed meeting time, but nevertheless I apologised with a nice smile on my face.  I ordered a glass of wine and as soon as the waiter left, Ernie said, “I’m not going to pay for your drink you know.”

Hmmm.  I’m thinking I might skull that wine when it gets here.  “I totally expected we’d split the bill,” I told him.

“Sure you did,” he responded.  “That’s the problem with women in this city.  All they have to do is sit back and wait for the guys to come to them and buy them drinks just by showing a bit of tit.”  I tried to surreptitiously hoik my top up a bit but wound up just exposing my belly in what I can only imagine looked like some sort of perverted come-on.  “You’re all such princesses, clicking your fingers and thinking the guys will come running.”

Being lumped in with the ‘princesses’ surprised me a little, but I suppose I have been told I bear a passing resemblance to Princess Fiona in Shrek, so maybe that’s what he meant.

“That’s not exactly true,” I told him.  “It’s really hard for women my age to meet men.  That’s why I’m internet dating.”

“Bull.  You could just walk into any bar right now and say you want sex and some guy will be willing to do it with you.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I want.  It would be degrading.”

“What, so you’re too good for those guys?  See.  All women are stuck up bitches.”

When that glass of wine came, I threw it down in record time, making me do that little throw-up-in-your-throat thing.  Maybe I should have let it be the throw-up-all-over-the-bitterman thing, but I do try to be a lady.

I threw a ten-buck note at him and told him I had to leave.  “Yeah, yeah, you think you’re too good for me, probably got five more suckers to go to tonight.”

I raced out of there before he figured out I’d ordered a $15 glass of wine.  Ah, small victories.

Camp Camping and Fresh Resolve


Okay, sorry I haven’t updated for almost a week, but honestly, I was just about ready to throw it all in.  The guys I went out with were the ones whose profiles looked most promising and each of them was a disaster.  Combing through the rest of the guys who contacted me – well let’s just say, there wasn’t much pushing me to go ahead.

Sorry, too, that I haven’t responded to any of the most recent comments.  I really appreciate them all and want to give a personal response to each of you, so I’ll make that my mission over the next couple of days.

But anyway, about the weekend.

Friday night I went out to dinner with some friends and some friends-of-friends.  One of the FOFs was a lovely guy I immediately clicked with.  Absolutely gorgeous, loads of fun and with a very similar sense of humour to me – we’ll call him Patrick (see how I did that?  Patty/Patrick?  Because we’re, like, so similar and all?).  He mentioned he was going away camping with some people the next day and that all the others were coupled up, so he’d love me to be his (plus-sized) plus-one.

Old Patty would have preferred to exfoliate with a cheese grater than commit to a whole weekend with strangers, but New Patty had survived three Dates From Hell and said yes.  Well, maybe it was the excess litres of red wine that said yes, but New Patty didn’t make a lame excuse the next day.

Quick quiz:

Q:  What do you call a gorgeous, attentive, wickedly witty guy who genuinely likes me and would make perfect long term relationship material?

A:  Gay

Yep, hope you weren’t getting your hopes up for me; Patrick is 100% totally bona fide poof.  But the camping trip sounded like loads of fun and I’d planned to have a date-free weekend anyway, so it was off to the river we went.

I’m so glad I did because my eyes were opened up big time.  Great bunch of people – a straight couple in their thirties, and a gay guy/bi guy/straight girl threesome.  Probably not my thing (okay, so how many people’s thing is it after all?), but it did make me realise that there’s a whole world of options out there and my bad experiences so far shouldn’t put me off.  And don’t judge, even when your brain is in whoa! overload.

As happens when you have such a mixed group, a campfire and a whole lot of beer and not enough fish to go around, conversation got to “deep and meaningful” stage, which really just means we all spilled way too much personal information which would make us cringe the next morning.  I regaled my dating exploits so far, which resulted in fits of laughter, which actually made me feel pretty good.

Life is pretty awesome when you make new friends, so when I got home on Monday night, I resolved to broaden my horizons and open my mind.

When I finally recovered from the weekend’s excesses by Wednesday, I put the resolution into practice and responded to a couple more guys in my inbox and went a huntin’ – sending out kisses to guys I fancy.

I’m also going to set up some profiles on other sites and book in for some speed dating.

Hopefully I’ll have some more dates to tell you about tomorrow.