Fix-Up-Fearn

While this entry can be read on it's own, you may like to start with Fearn's first two journal entries:

It's about me, not you! I think my therapist swallowed a thesaurus.

#FailingAtLife. Love, Fearn.

Dear Yraid? Ryaid? Riyda?

Oh! I think I've got it! Riyda! It sounds like an exotic version of Rita. I like it!

I shall now call you Riyda. How’s it hanging, Riyda? Hey, Riyda, wanna paint the town red, break a few hearts this weekend?

Yes, that works for me.

Now that is sorted, have I got a story for you.

As I've mentioned in the past, I'm not really that hung up on the idea of finding a boyfriend. This particular choice seems to be an issue for just about everyone in my life, but me. Derick and Peta have teamed up to play match maker. Well, ‘teamed up’ is a loose term. Sometimes its more of a competition and has little to do with me. It usually involves trotting out male friends of theirs to our Quad-meets in the hopes they will be the one to find me a partner. I should mention, the Quads are our group of four friends, thick as thieves since Collage. Derick, Peta, Kallie and I. We all still live in or around the Village and visit our favourite watering hole once a week (at least).

At the moment Peta is winning the apparent ‘Fix-Up-Fearn’ competion. He fixed me up with an aquantence of his. Taylor. Oh, Taylor. That was an interesting relationship. Actually, he was a really nice guy. Mostly. But I had to break up with him. He answered the phone on our fourth date. And no, Im not that shallow! It is not because he answered his phone. It was because it was his mother on the other end.

And. He. Called. Her. Mummy.

Seriously! Mummy! He is 35!!

Derick groaned when I told them the story. Peta got all huffy, telling me I was being ridiculous. Kallie laughed. And laughed. She really isn’t helpful with any of this. She thinks I don’t know, but she encourages the guys in their endeavours to fix me up with a soul mate. Or any mate really. Its not so secret that she thinks the entire situation is hilarious.

Like when I was dating Fin. I still can’t tell the story without feeling like I'll lose my breakfast. We had been dating for a couple weeks when Fin choose to tell me the story of how he got his Prince Albert piercing.

After a satisfying session between the sheets, he told me that when his father passed away a couple years ago, he found out that his father had a Prince Albert piercing. Fin chose to have his done in honour of his dad. A little different, but ok. It would have been really nice if the story had ended there.

But it did not.

No, it did not.

It turns out, that before burying his dad - may he rest in peace - Fin's mother had the piercing removed.

And gifted the jewellery to her son.

Which it turns out, his son proudly wears.

Sooo, bye bye Fin.

Derick has never been able to live down setting me up with Fin. And Kallie laughed at that so hard she couldn’t breath.

My mother, sadly, was possibly the one with the best attempt so far. She fixed me up with a friend’s son. Tall, handsome, great sense of humour. Good job. There was not a lot wrong with this one. He was even good in bed. It was me and my awkwardness that ended it that time.

It was after our third date. We had organised to meet the next day for Hot Yoga at his gym. A reason mum thought we would get along so well. We had similar interests. Anyway, I had done a class after work the day before and showered at the gym, ready for our date that night. I had not intended to stay the night, but after a full on day at work, a couple drinks and the Hot Yoga class, I fell asleep at his place. I had to do the walk of shame and leave straight for work. Of course, the stars aligned just right, although not in my favour. I ran late leaving work and had to go straight to meet John for our class. I should have just been late for class. I should have stopped off and got fresh clothes.

Hind sight is 20/20.

I didn’t want to be late and figured it’s hot yoga, everyone is hot and sweaty, no one will notice. I know, I know. It is still gross. But nothing compared to what happened next. John saved me a place beside him in the front row. I raced in, quietly apologising as the instructor waved me in with a smile.

Her smile did not last long.

Forgetting that I'd used my towel after my shower the day before, I shook it out with a firm flick - and watched in horror as my sweaty underwear from the day before flew out of it. Square into the instructor’s face.

I didn’t stay for the class. John never called again. Mum stopped asking about how often I go to Yoga. And I really hope that Yoga instructors don’t have a support group where they all get together and talk about their week.

And Kallie laughed and laughed…

So, with my history, you may be thinking that I’d be used to dealing with awkward dating situations with a certain amount of grace and poise.

You’d be wrong.

After a few sessions with my, shall we say, creative therapist I came to the conclusion that I had to do some work on myself. Dr Julie had an interesting way about her, but she was good at what she does. What is that saying? How can you love another when you do not know how to love yourself? It isn’t that I don’t love myself, it is more that I struggle to remember to show myself love when I let the voices of the people around me drown out my thoughts and convictions.

In light of those revelations, instead of looking for a relationship, I choose to just have a little fun. Its not 1800’s any more, girls can do that you know. And it is, in my opinion, far healthier than getting into a relationship just for the sake of ‘having a man in my life’. That’s never a good reason to dating someone and definitely isn’t love.

This is not information I share with everyone of course, sometimes not even with the guys I've met. I know, I know. Giving the wrong phone number or sneaking out in the middle of the night is not exactly honest or respectful. As Ive already established though, I know I have some self development to do.

So when I went home with this cute guy I met at the bar three days ago (his home, not mine), I did what I have occasionally done. I snuck out after he fell asleep. I felt a little bad. He was really cute and so nice! And, oh my god! HE MAKES HIS BED! His apartment is actually clean and tidy! He will make some girl really happy one day, I thought as I quietly let myself out the front door. I made sure it was locked, ‘coz you know, I'm not a monster. I don’t want him to get robbed because I let in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t until I reached the for my phone to order an Uber that I realised my mistake. My phone was not in my pocket, it was not in my handbag. My stomach dropped. What on earth was I supposed to do? I needed my phone. I was going to have to knock on the door and wake him up.

I turned back, dragging my feet the whole way, trying to think of a way to not come out of this looking like a total bitch. Turns out, explaining my behaviour was not what I needed to be anxious about.

The door opened before I could knock. Here I was, hand up in the air looking like an idiot, eye to eye with the latest notch on my lipstick case.

He leaned casually against the frame, tapping my sleek communication device against his palm with a grin on his face. ‘Forgetting something?’

Oh, you smug bastard.

‘Um, look, sorry....’ I started to fumble out some half hearted, ingenuine appology when it dawned on me: how did he know I’d left my phone behind?

My face is expressive. I don’t have a poker face, I have a book face. You can read every emotion, every thought. At least you can when I’m not mentally prepared to at least attempt to hide it.

Mr Smug’s smile told me he knew exactly what was going on in my head.

‘You and I have the exact same phone and ring tone.’ He held my phone out for me and I stared at it like it was going to bite me. Coz I was certain I was going to regret this more than just having to take ownership of my bad behaviour.

‘Your mum rang. You butt dialed her earlier and she was just calling to check you got home OK.’

Oh, no. I was in trouble now! ‘What did you say to her? What did she say to you?!’ Oh, no no no... I did not need my mum talking to my one night stand! Least of all, when I hadn’t told him that’s what he was!

And his grin told me it was as bad as I was imagining.

‘I figured you didn’t want me to tell her the truth, so I told her we have been dating. For a month.’ Speachless, my jaw dropped. ‘She was really lovely. She invited me to the family Sunday lunch next week. Gave me your parent’s address, her email and phone number. Which I’m guessing was her actual phone number. Unlike the one you gave me earlier.’

Oh God, it was worse than I’d imagined.

I took my phone and just stared at it. He had tucked a card into my phone case with his number scrawled across it.

‘So, text me where I can pick you up from on Sunday. About 10? Should give us some time to get a story straight before we get to lunch.’ He was clearly enjoying this.

Smug. Bastard.

Well, I guess its only fair. I did try to ditch him.

So now I have a date I hadn’t planned on, a fake boyfriend I’ll have to explain to my family and a story to tell the rest of the Quads.

Kallie is going to laugh and laugh...

And what have I learned from all this? That’s simple. Never again, even in the heat of the moment, forget where I put my phone.