"This call will be recorded for training purposes."

This morning I woke up to find the back window of my car had been smashed in. Everything in my car had been rifled through, yet strangely nothing had been stolen. Apparently a choral score of "Messiah" and my Melways, does not rate highly enough. So, now I await a glass repairman hopefully sometime before today's forecast thunderstorm and showers.

Despite this, levity surrounds me after an encounter last night between the flatmate and a telephone sales person. He was rung by some representative trying to sell life insurance. I am terrible at trying to get rid of phone sales people. Only last week was I accosted by someone trying to raise money for the "cure for Diabetes, which is *really* close". Her begging tone was more than a little pathetic, and being diabetic, I have heard the stories of a cure "just around the corner" for about 10 years now. But, I paid up some money, almost in an effort to get her off the phone.

No such easy way out for the flatmate. The sales representative delivered their well rehearsed spiel, probably outlining the ways in which life insurance will be of benefit to him and his loved ones. His response was simple and direct. He replied, without a trace of irony, "I have seen a psychic recently, and she said I am going to live for a really long time. So I don't need insurance." The sales person quickly hung up the call, to the flatmate's smug satisfaction, and my unceasing surprise.

Clearly I need to work on my people skills.

Time

TFM never rang.

I don't think he was ever going to.

Seems Bad men want to fuck me, and Good men want to ignore me.

Is it time to give up? Maybe, yes.

Killing time

While hopelessly waiting for FTM to ring (allowed time period has nearly expired), I shall self-tag for the latest trend in blogging. Following on the lead from Bliss and Ozbhoy, and probably many others, I typed into Google my name and "needs". These are the results;

(i) Cath needs more greens, fruit and 5-6 small meals a day: gee thanks!

(ii) cath will need replacing: with what or whom I ask you?

(iii) Cath needs to get her act together: get my act together and what?.. tour?

(iv) I think Cath is excellent as she appears the only one who truly sticks to what we love: Now, that is more like what I want to read!
(v) Cath needs some new shoes: Fantastic, I kid you not!

Well, that killed a few minutes... now why hasn't that damned phone rung yet! ~sigh~

Let's face the music and dance

Apparently, Occidentally wants to know how the date went. It is with great pleasure that I can announce, that I am still single. It is clear that how someone presents on paper, can of course be ideal, but reality fall rather short of a nominal mark. We met, drank and chatted. Then moved on to dinner, and still chatted. But there were no sparks. At least he didn't insult me by saying "I'll call you", when it was clear to all that he wasn't going to.

There was nothing particularly wrong with him either. But one failing of his personality, seems to be the one thing that easily wins me over. Despite my predilection for open and unbridled sexual behaviour, and my quaint habit of over-sharing otherwise personal information, at heart, I am a very old-fashioned girl.

I like a man who, after discussing the menu, will order for me. I expect a man to open doors for me, pay on our first date, ring within the requisite three-day rule period and offer me the most comfortable seat if their is a choice. New millennium be damned, I desire old-fashioned behaviours, within certain contexts anyway. So on my date the other night, when I had to open my own door to leave and enter the restaurant, was not offered a drink, and he dug in to serve himself first from the shared rice (we had Indian), I was taken aback. From that point on, I felt I was just biding time before we both called it a night.

By contrast, I met up with a boy on Friday night, who successfully won me over, by one simple move.

A little while ago, I met, and started seeing (ok, truth be told, sleeping with) a boy I met from an internet site. He was christened a pseudonym by S, but, I never felt the need to actually write about him. So Ted, can now make his first appearance here. I met Ted, there was an immediate sexual attraction, and that was the start of a very short-lived romance. He dumped me not long after. A couple of months later, I caught up with him for a drink, and as they say, one thing led to another, and I found myself driving him to work the next morning. Again, it all turned pear-shaped quite quickly.

But when I met Ted, I also met Ted's flatmate (TFM).

On the occasion of delivering Ted and TFM into work the "morning after", I realised that I enjoyed talking to TFM far more than Ted himself. So when everything went to the inevitable shit, I contemplated the possibility of ever being able to pursue TFM. There is the unspoken rule of a "no go zone" on friends ex's. But Ted and I were never really a couple, a few shags and that was the sum total of our relationship. I began messaging Ted, encouraging him to catch up with me for a drink, oh, and to bring along TFM. Finally, after a few week's of encouraging on and off, Friday night saw Ted, TFM and a couple of their friends meet up with me in my local.

When they arrived, TFM promptly sat beside me, and pleasantries were exchanged. Ted, as a surprise to more than just me, bought us both drinks, and then absented himself. I was then able to present my case to TFM. We chatted, drank and finally had a chance to be alone. It was very pleasant. At some point eventually, Ted and friends returned requesting our presence on the dancefloor. At this point, TFM slid out of the booth we were sitting in, and I began the unlady-like exit from the booth. He then put out his hand to help me out of the booth. And remained holding my hand when I was safely out.

It was then, that I was truly and totally gone on TFM. That was it. One vaguely gentlemanly move, and I was smitten.

Now, I just have to wait on the phone call, if, of course, he can get over the whole "sleeping with his flatmate" thing. Cross all phalange people!

I am not negative, just a little cynical.

In about 23 minutes I am due to meet a gentleman for a drink and maybe, dinner. We have never met before, and have only passed a few emails back and forth. I should think that I would be slightly aflutter with anticipation and nervous energy. But I am rather flat.

I have made suitable preparations, as in, coiffed and made-up. But the heart is just not in it. Not due to his fault at all. In fact, on paper he sounds quite suitable for me. Not too tall. Not too old. Intelligent. Has read classics. Professes a love of Beethoven. All good things. I suppose after the incident of last week with Him, it is hard to muster up the motivation to be too enthused so quickly.

Unlike a girlfriend of mine whom I spoke to today.

She has the amazing nack of being able to find her "soul-mate" about every 8 to 12 months. There are protestations of love and adoration. Generally a well thought out life plan for them, in the first couple of months, and then after another few months, the inevitable break-up. In the last few years she has been engaged more than once, but all seem to end up as "bastards" and "total idiots".

So, today when she announced that she was getting married to "Peter", I reserved congratulations for a moment. Firstly, since I didn't even know she was dating anyone. The last time we spoke, she had sworn off men after the last "bastard" and her had broken up, despite wanting to get married and make babies together. Secondly, they have apparently been dating about two months, and this was quick, even by her standards.

She declared that he thought that she was wonderful, and would do anything for her. On and on she told me of all the ways he was besotted with her. It lead me to ask, "But how do you feel about him?", since it seemed to be something distinctly lacking from her conversation. Apparently, he is divine. Knowing her as I do, I feel inclined to hold off purchasing my plane ticket home for the nuptials.

So, I ask myself, is my reticence to purchase flights five months ahead because of a cynical sense of dread that this will all come to naught, or just because I am just a little bit jealous?

Hmmmmmm.

Aren't you a little old for this?

I spent much of Sunday hunched over a sewing machine. It is that time of year again when costumes are to be sewn and all manner of glamour to be realised in fabric form.

The Tap spectacular for 2005 is but 5 weeks away, and three costumes are to be organised and assembled before then. Somehow, I managed to score myself the job of "Costume Captain" for my class. This gives the dubious honour of organising outfits for 15 or so people, of all shapes and sizes. I have written more emails in the past week, than I think in the past year.

So there was I, directing what is to be cut, what is to be hand sewn, and what has to be re-sewn. Deciding what length is appropriate, what captures maximum stage presence and what is most flattering for a group of middle-aged women of all shapes and sizes. And then I realised. Women my age are usually doing this sort of thing all the time. They just happen to be doing it for their kids.

I am in my mid-30's and I have a "dress-up" box!

Oh fuck.

Can we close the book on this chapter at least?

It seems that the arrival of Spring has brought more than just newly formed buds to the fore. Strangely, people that I know have decided to come out of their wintry hibernation.

I was quietly typing away in Messenger the other evening, chatting to Wishtup and generally enjoying my evening. When a message flashed to my screen from B. B who wooed me wonderfully last year. B who smelt lovely and kissed sweetly. B who dumped me, citing a preference for work. B.

It seemed he was on for a chat, wanting to know what I was up to at the moment. He complained about work, about his boss, about being single. And I have to say, I tried to be compassionate. Well, for a very brief period of time. But, try as I might, I kept thinking, "Why is this tosser talking to me?", "What does he want?", and worth noting, "Why doesn't he just fuck off?".

By contrast, I was contacted via an online service by a girl with whom I attended High School. I never really knew her that well at school. She was a different clique to me. I did the geeky Debating Club things and studied Physics. She took the more applied courses, having expressed no desire in formal tertiary education, and I probably considered her a little "other side of the tracks" to me. So to get a message from her, was surprising to say the least, and even more so when she rang. We chatted about what we have done in the last 18 (!!) years and what brought us to this city so far from our home town. Eventually, she began to tell me about what made her start contacting people from High School, and why she contacted some, but not others.

She said that of all the people in the online listing, she felt she could contact me, and know that I would have left the past in its place. And, she remembered me because I was loud and raucous. I honestly don't remember any teenage angst that I may have felt towards her then, but in those hormone-ravaged years, I may have sworn unholy vengeance on someone for even looking at a boy I liked. So who knows.

So I sit here, on the night of my dreaded Wedding Anniversary, a day which has on occasion made me melancholy. I contemplate that in the past week I have had unkind thoughts towards B, clearly not letting the past go, but also been contacted because of a sense that I indeed can let by-gones be indeed gone.

As another year's anniversary date draws to a close, I beg my sub-conscious to understand that the past is done and dusted. No more annual reminders of a failed marriage. No more dreams of lost love and things that could have been.

No more.

"Alone again, naturally"

Well so much for waiting upon the second date with him. He insisted upon a drink last night where he detailed that he said that he should "never have invited me over for dinner", "never have sms'd me" and "never fooled around with me". How about that for a kick in the guts? I am stunned at such a swift change in attitude. But then again, given my history, nothing should surprise me anymore.

After our drink, I regaled this conversation to a friend, who also knows him. She was shocked, and taken aback. She declared, "But, he so obviously likes you." Well, apparently not.

Anyway, we moved on from this conversation to happier topics, whereby she stated, "Your perfume is gorgeous. What is it?". Having one's perfume acknowledged, especially when you go to an effort to select a scent, is a wonderful compliment. But, with a great sense of irony, I smirked and quipped, "If you can believe it, my perfume is "Him"". Seems his name is to haunt me!

What are you today?

We all assume different roles in our lives, at different times and for different purposes. Each one we wear differently, some roles fit better than others. And some we just never get to try out.

I have been a sister, daughter and friend. Also, wife, girlfriend, unattainable love, lover, and the other woman. I am a confidante, colleague and accomplice. Probably also a role model, nemesis and occasional counsellor. I think I sometimes do a pretty good job at juggling any or all of these roles when required. I made an excellent wife, but can be a very ordinary girlfriend. I wonder if I will be a good mother, or just my children's nemesis?

I really don't know.

What I do know is that I am lonely, and in spitting distance of an alcoholic beverage!