Reason 16: Sometimes they forget that holidays are not reality

had been going out with her boyfriend for a few years. I am an Australian and had met Reason 16, an American, while travelling through the UK. I was on a two year visa and was nearing the end of it, so at it’s conclusion I extended my stay by applying for a de facto extension on Reason 16’s visa.

It came to the time when my man was told that he was going to have to go to Hong Kong as part of a three-month international secondment. Reason 16 was quite reluctant to go (not wanting to be parted from me), but after some hefty convincing from my end, he agreed, on the proviso that I would come over to visit part way through his three-month stay. To be honest, I thought that this was a fabulous idea because it meant that I could go home for a holiday, stop off in Hong Kong on the way over and back, thereby killing two birds with one stone – a long overdue visit home, and a holiday with my boyfriend in Asia. I was getting her Hong Kong shopping list together before he had even packed his bags!

For the first two weeks, Reason 16 called every day to say hello and see how I was going, and while he was gone, my group of friends ensured that I was kept busy so that loneliness didn’t set in. After the second week though, Reason 16 was a littl odd on a few phonecalls, but I was assured by friends that things are always a little bit different over a long distance via telephone, as they are with e-mail and text messages, because there was the absence of facial expressions and body language that are both such important parts of our communication processes. This sounded good to me!

Part-way through week four of Reason 16’s 3-month absence, I took a bad phonecall. Reason 16 rang me to tell me that he had changed his mind about my visit. He told me that he didn’t want to see me in Hong Kong and was having second thought about our relationship. I was devastated.

Apparently, Reason 16 was having too much fun in Hong Kong (clearly, more than he thought he was going to have), and due to the excess of female attention he seemed to be receiving, he said that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue on with ourr relationship. When pressed for more information he emphatically denied that there was anyone else, laughing (much to my frustration) that he had only been there for a few weeks, which certainly wasn’t long enough to meet a “someone else”.

A day or two later, I had amended my travel plans. Instead of waiting a further three weeks to go and visit, I changed my ticket so that I was leaving as soon as I coud (actually, I paid for another one, because my first one was a non-changeable ticket – more reason for fury, but that’s another story). I told Reason 16 this and was calmly informed that he didn’t want to see me in Hong Kong and that he wouldn’t be picking me up form the airport. I screamed at him that I didn’t know anyone else there and would walk the streets of Hong Kong looking for him if he wouldn’t come to the airport for me.

Reason 16 picked me up from the airport. He didn’t kiss me hello nor did he speak to me for the duration of the drive back to his company-provided serviced apartment. Eventually, I asked if he was going to speak to me at all throughout my stay and his response was, “I told you I didn’t want you here. I don’t even know why you came.”

I explained (in my calmest voice) that I had thought our three-year relationshipwas  worth the effort of saving and that I wanted to know what was going on. Reason 16 told me that nothing was going on, only that he had been having fun, meeting new people, going out a lot and generally living life. I reminded him that this life wasn’t reality and that I was glad he was having a great time but that like all good things, this too would eventually come to an end, after which he would be returned to the UK to resume his life there – was he really desperate to destroy the life they had had together?

As the tears and arguments flowed, there was a knock on the door. Reason 16 opened it to find the apartment concierge standing there with a piece of paper in his hand. I was out of view and heard the concierge tell Reason 16 that his “lady friend” had been around looking for him and had left a message for him downstairs. Reason 16 calmly thanked the concierge for his trouble and closed the door.

Um…?  “What the hell was that? Who is the lady friend? What is going on? I think now is a great time for you to be honest with me!”

Reason 16 answered that there wasn’t a lady friend – just a friend he had been working with – but that he had to make a phone-call. He told me to wait where I was, as he would be right back. “You are going to walk out of this discussion and our three-year relationship for someone you work with?” But Reason 16 was already gone.

That was when I noticed the piece of paper left by the concierge. It sat on the kitchen bench and it had on it the lady friend’s number. I rang. “Hi,” I asked calmly, “is this Taryn?”

The devastating response came back, “Yeah. Who’s this?”

I took all of my frustration of Reason 16 out on this girl (I’m not proud) as I screamed, “I have been with him for three years. I am his girlfriend. Thank you for destroying three years of my life.”

The woman at the end of the line tried to explain that dear Reason 16 hadn’t mentioned anyone important in his life and that she didn’t know what Iwas talking about. I hung up in tears of frustration.

When Reason 16 made his way back to his apartment, he was irate, ranting and raving, yelling at me, “Taryn said you called her. What the hell did you say?”

I couldn’t even speak. I was wild. I figured that if he was going to omit facts, then I could play this game too. Reason 16 raged at me, his face only centimetres from mine, “Get out of this apartment. I am going to work. You had better not be here when I get back. And when I get back to the UK, you had better be out of the house. I never want to speak to you again. I can’t believe you’ve come here and done this to Taryn and I.” He left, slamming the door, cursing me under his breath.

Taryn and I? TARYN AND I?! So there was something. I let out a scream. And that was the end. Almost..

A month later, I was back in the UK, collecting my things and packing up my belongings in the house I had shared with Reason 16. Before returning to the mother country, I had decided that she would do him a favour by removing of a number of items from the house – not wanting to cause him further distress by looking at them and remembering her. That was how a number of my friends came across a flat panel TV, a play-station, a bed, a lounge suite and a washer/drier. And this time, it was the end.

Reason 15: Because sometimes they’re hot.. but not.

I work for an IT company… a big multi-national IT company where I am one of a handful of women in a big, oceanful of men.. most of the time, to be honest, it’s awesome!

So, a couple of years ago, at the work Christmas party, the resident hot-colleague was looking as gorgeous as ever. My colleagues and I watched as he made his way around the party to a number of different girls in turn.. Imagine my surprise when he approached me, flashed his perfect Hollywood smile and asked if I would like a drink. “Sure,” I replied and he quickly had one in my hand.

“So, how you finding things with your role?” he asked as his head moved in towards mine, maybe the music was too loud.

“Yeah. Not bad.” My very flippant response as I sipped my drink.

“If you, ahhh, ever need any help with anything..” This time, he pushed some hair away from my face. Pushed some hair away from my face?!? Like a bad, bad, bad-ass movie..

It was time I said something.

“Look, I’m really, really sorry. I don’t really do the whole “work-thing”. I don’t mix business and pleasure. Sorry.”

“Sure. No problem.”

And with that, the hot one turned on his heel and propositioned the next one. And we saw him proposition the next, and the next and then next. And by about number 9 or 10, (or was it 19 or 20) he had met his match. The hot one then proceeded to exchange saliva with the poor girl (whom no-one seemed to know)  in front of all of their work colleagues for the next two hours.

Work on Monday. Maybe a bit awkward.

Reason 14 – they can be really charming!

Reason 14 was a friend of a friend and was well and truly a ladies man. He was suave, sophisticated and extremely good-looking and every time I saw him he had a new piece on his arm, usually of the blonde, voluptuous, plastic variety, but hey, who was jealous? It was only when I made some enquiries to our mutual friend about Reason 14 that I was warned to stay well clear. I was given a few examples of his extremely bad behaviour:

Apparently, after a new secretary has started at the law firm at which Reason 14 worked, he made a bet with a colleague that he would get her into bed within the month. The colleague shook on this, saying that he would attempt this also, and so, the poor girl was pursued. Both men, in their early thirties, began with casual chats and knowing smiles, followed by invitations to lunches or coffees. Evidently, the girl seemed to be quite taken with both men and they both mutually decided to up the ante, by asking her out for drinks with both of them one Friday night. The girl agreed as long as she could bring a friend along. Both men figured that this made a fair, even number and secretly, both realised that perhaps the loser of the bet might have his loss lessened if the friend was anywhere near as attractive as this young secretary.

The Friday night arrived and Reason 14, his friend and the secretary all made their way to a nearby bar where they were meeting the other girl, and when they arrived, both men were pleasantly surprised. The newcomer to the group was not only attractive, but she was blonde, voluptuous and well… plastic. It only took one beer for Reason 14 to take his friend aside and instruct him to “go for gold” with the secretary, as he was more than happy to take second prize if it meant that second prize was the airhead with the great breasts. The deal was done.

As the evening progressed, it appears that Reason 14 stopped drinking, citing that he had to drive home, but proceeded to assist the two girls in getting rather inebriated on champagne. No surprises that by the end of the night, the friend was eating out of his hand, giggling and flirting as she did so. Reason 14 made his move and offered her a lift home. It was accepted and they were on their way. [Incidentally, for the curious, the secretary and the colleague went home separately, so neither party won the bet.]

On the way home, Reason 14 stopped at a park and turned off his car’s engine. One thing led to another, and he and the girl ended up having sex in the front seat of the car. Romance was not Reason 14’s strong point. She was drunk and apparently “up for it” and he was sober and determined to get some – it seemed the perfect arrangement. After the act though, the girl decided that she needed to get herself cleaned up, so asked for a few minutes outside of the car to be able to straighten herself out. Reason 14 said “Sure”, rested back in his car seat, and she got out of the car. Seconds after the car door closed behind her however, Reason 14 had the engine started and drove away, not before tossing her hand-bag out of the passenger side window and leaving the poor girl stranded at some ungodly hour of the night.

What a charmer!

Reason 13 – they get in first

My friend had convinced me to get into that good old medium of modern day meeting – a dating website. It took her about a year to convince me it was worth trying and after yet another night out on the turps with nothing to show for it but a raging hangover, I decided I would give it a go. I got my profile organised and wrote (what I thought was) some humourous prose around my interests, hopes, aspirations and favourite pastimes (kind of along the lines of, “what’s your favourite colour? blue”, etc, etc).

I let the messages come in and to be honest, the standard of incomings wasn’t so high. Not that I am particularly fussy, but the trannies, the men with an inkling for bondage, S&M, and auto-erotic stimulation, and the men who would scare small children got a wee bit tiresome. Nonetheless, I persisted.

And finally, like a ray of sunshine through the stormy clouds, Mr 13 appeared. He was gorgeous. And witty. And my age. And he had a job. And he seemed so.. so normal. Mr 13 and I emailed back and forth a few times. I would actually look forward to getting home to check my emails (dating sites not being allowed at my conservative financial company!) to find something from him.

Finally it came time to meet and we arranged to catch up over lunch one day. I was so excited. When 13 walked towards me, I saw that he carried a little more weight than his photos. But that was ok. He was still a very nice looking man. We greeted a little awkwardly and he sat down. And the tooth-pulling, paint-drying began. The hour dragged as if it were ten hours and the conversation was more stunted than a smoking mother’s foetus. I couldn’t wait to get away. Luckily, being a working day, I had the excuse of a VERY important meeting I needed to rush back for.

I made my polite goodbyes, thanked Mr 13 for taking the time to meet me, and left. The door of the cafe had not even closed behind me when my phone told me I had a SMS. I took it out and read: ” I don’t want to pursue anything further. Don’t call me again.”

What? WHAT?!?!?!? How dare he?! He of THE most boring personality I have EVER had the misfortune to come across doesn’t want to see fabulous, amazing ME? Grrrr!!

Reason 12 – sometimes they just don’t get it

So I was dating a boy. A lovely, lovely boy. Who was witty, funny, charming, rich, yadda, yadda, yadda. We went out for a good few months and I did really like him. But there was something missing. Something wasn’t there. And, I think it was the extra eight cenitmetres he could have had at the end of his penis. Now, I know size doesn’t matter, and it’s not the size of the tide, it’s the motion of the ocean, and all of that crap that men with small penises and the women who date them sprout often to people who really, really don’t want to know. But for me, a bit of size is good. As is a bit of longevity in the bedroom. Like longer than a few minutes please. Please!!

For a few months, I enjoyed his company and put up with the disaster in the bedroom. It was after talking to a friend who told me that she was surprised I would stay with someone that I wasn’t “totally into”, and she was right, it’s not normally my style. I am normally of the mindset of “why waste time with someone when “the one” could be waiting around the corner”. It had gotten to the point where I almost dreaded the physical intimacy with Reason 12 – because it was just that bad.

So, I had “the chat” and explained that I really, really liked Reason 12 and thought he was a great guy but that I really wasn’t after a relationship. It was my own unique, polite way of saying “it’s not happening for me in the bedroom (like ever!) and your personality isn’t enough to carry this relationship past that.”

Reason 12, being the gentleman that he was, told me he knew I wasn’t after a relationship and thought I might need to get some counselling/therapy or something for my “issues in the bedroom”. He advised me that ”when we started going out, you were fine, but after a while, you just became so frigid. You should really get some help with that.”

Right.. Thanks Reason 12. I took it on the chin and didn’t have the heart to tell him that his problems were probably beyond help, unless he wanted a penis extension and some Viagra.

Reason 11 – they don’t always like to give as they receive

I was living in Tokyo, working for an IT company, and like most gaijins who don’t speak Japanese, didn’t meet very many Japanese men. Being six foot one and an African-American didn’t really help my plight with the less height-enhanced members of the Japanese male community. I would often find myself longing for even one sideways glance on the subway, instead of the furtive shuffling followed by the intense study of the stitching in their shoes, which is what I invariably received. On top of this, was the added slap to my ego that a large percentage of the foreign men living in Japan were chasing the petite, coy Japanese women – an understandable pastime but not necessarily a forgivable one.

One day, I was walking through Roppongi, when I met an Australian man – Reason 11, John. He seemed nice enough (although in hindsight perhaps I was so desperate to have any male attention at all – that despite his abruptness and often quite distant behaviour) we became lovers. We didn’t spend much time together, maybe only one or at the most two night a week, but we continued sleeping together for quite a while – meeting up in bars, having a few drinks and then returning to my apartment for sex. John would never stay the night, and I was never too concerned, assuming it was because of the distance he had to cover to make it home, rather than anything else untoward. We were fulfilling each other’s base needs.

At first, everything was okay, and I was under no delusions that our relationship was anything other than one based on lust and sex – really only to satisfy a physical desire we both had, probably because neither of us were getting any action elsewhere. The problem from my end, however, was that the sex just wasn’t that good. A few minutes of John’s frantic gasping as though he were in pain, a prod and a poke here and there and it was virtually all over. He was very fond of receiving oral sex but wasn’t exactly forthcoming in returning any favours I indulged him with.

One day, John and I were lying in bed, sharing a kiss before we were about to make love. We were both naked, and Reason 11 was lying on top of me, between my legs, kissing my neck. I thought it was an apt time to ask if he might perhaps give me a bit of oral pleasure and so whispered my request as seductively as I could.

I don’t know if I would have got a worse reaction if I had asked Reason John to sacrifice his first-born child. He stopped kissing me, got out of bed and pulled on his clothes while looking at me with a look of absolute loathing and disgust. I was so shocked (appalled?) by his actions that the only thing I could do was pull the bed-sheet up to my chin and stare amazedly at him, as he hurriedly searched for strewn shoes and socks. As he rushed to slam the door shut behind him, the last thing he called back to me over his shoulder was, “You are disgusting. What the hell do you think this is?”

When I recovered from the shock, all I could do was laugh.

(*It was only later that I discovered that for the duration of our affair, John had been married. I guess I wasn’t too shocked by this until I found out the reason for his divorce. John’s wife had discovered the equivalent of thousands and thousands of dollars missing from their bank accounts. It turned out that our boy had a severe addiction to prostitutes. Funnily enough, I didn’t date any other men for the rest of my stint in Japan.)

Reason 10 – because if you can’t beat them..

I was travelling in Thailand and was at one of the temples in Bangkok where I spied a gorgeous man. He had dark hair, coffee coloured skin and the most beautiful face I had ever seen. I watched as he pulled off a T-shirt and put on another one, taking note of his smooth, toned chest and abs. He was heavenly. And he walked away into the throngs before I could follow/approach/anything.

Later that night, in a bar on the dubious Koh San Road, I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw “the gorgeous one” sitting at a table on his own. He was reading a book, and I noticed that it wasn’t in English. Fuelled with the feeling of impunity one gets from being away from home (alone) and a few Thai whiskeys, I approached his table. “Hi,” I said, “I saw you at the temple today. Are you on your own? I’m with some friends back there if you would like to join us?”

The gorgeous one smiled a very polite smile and said, in perfect English, “Thanks. I’ve actually just ordered some food. But maybe after I’ve eaten.”

I wasn’t too impunity-ised to hear a plane crashing and burning at that exact moment. I smiled politely and walked away.

Imagine my surprise about a half an hour later, when the gorgeous one approached my table. “Hi,” he said, “Is it ok if I sit down?”

I almost fell off my chair.

The gorgeous one, reason 10, and I chatted for hours. He was hilarious – as well as charming, lovely, politically correct, Dutch and wonderful. It took me a few more drinks to work up the Dutch courage (heh, heh) to ask this gorgeous man about anyone special in his life. That was when he told me about how he and his partner of 4 years, Mike, had just bought a house together. Mike? A man? Gay? What? How had I missed the signs for that one? My gaydar was normally finely honed but in this instance had totally let me down.

That didn’t stop reason 10 and I continuing to travel throughout Thailand together and actually becoming very good friends (to this day). And he is still, 6 years later, living with Mike.

Reason 9 – because sometimes you only want them for one night, and they can’t even give you that

After being the recipient of surely the most, heartless, unceremonious dumping technique ever invented by cruel mankind (text-tastic Reason 8), I set off on a mission. To get as hideously drunk as possible, and to do so in as short a time as possible. My good friend chardonnay assisted in this task as well as a few trustworthy girlfriends who assured me not to worry about my ex, Steve. After all, they reasoned, Steve was a good-for-nothing-nobody who would be regretting his decision in the very near future (NB: He didn’t, a friend told me he shacked up with the next woman he met and as far as I know, they are still together, but cè la vie). Besides, they reminded me, I was an empowered independent woman who could do a whole lot better. 

A whole lot better turned out to be just over on the other side of the bar, and so, aided wholly with Dutch courage (in this case in the form of nastily cheap house white wine) I grinned coyly, until he approached to introduce himself. His names was Steve, and while one may assume that I would have laughed ironically and turned on my wobbly heel at the very point his name slipped past his lips, I didn’t. No, actually I spoke to him for about a good ew hours, before he suggested we “go back to mine for coffee”. And he meant mine, not his. And I know he didn’t really mean coffee. But, having just painfully finished (or had finished) an eighteen month relationship, and having never experienced a “one-night stand” before at the age of 34, AND having three girl friends nod and wink surreptitiously as I gave them a querulous look, I agreed. And we left. Back to mine.

And so it goes. Steve and I were kissing at the door, my blood and the wine that accompanied it was racing and sure enough, surprise, surprise, we ended up in bed, making mad, passionate, drunken love. He was an energetic lover, and the fifteen or so minutes he lasted were sweaty, sexy and somewhat satisfying. Afterwards, as I lay back contemplating whether this was the best I was going to get from here on in, Reason 9 leaned over and whispered gently into my ear, “just so you know, I can’t stay tonight”.

I sat up on one elbow, looked into his eyes and asked, “why not?”

“I have to get home,” he whispered, “my wife needs the car to take the kids to Sunday school in the morning.”            

Nonetheless, Reason 9, has put me off of men of the name Steve for eternity, although the sight of him naked, with all of his clothes in his arms or on the floor of the elevator around him as he begged to be let back in to the house to at least get dressed was memorable… and rather sobering.

Reason 8 – they rely on SMS-ing too much

I had been in a relationship with Reason 8, Steve, for about twelve months and we had gotten along famously right from the very beginning. As soon as I had met him I had realised that he had the potential to be the perfect guy. He could cook. He could clean. He was witty and charming and active and damn it, he was great in bed. I had always been an extremely independent woman and both friends and family were amazed that I seemed to be committed to this one guy – something they had long lost hope of seeing, particularly as I was nearing my mid-thirties and had never been in a relationship longer than a few months before getting itchy feet and wandering eyes.

A year or so into our relationship, I decided it would be a natural progression for Steve and I to move in together (in hindsight, possibly my first major error). It wasn’t something that I was overly concerned about – I wasn’t intent on invading anyone’s personal space, or inviting myself into facets of Steve’s life in which I wasn’t welcome… No, no. It just made perfect sense to my practical self that since we spent all of our time together anyway, in either his house or mine, we may well pool our resources, cut our expenditure and streamline our operations. We could consider the whole episode a business venture between two like-minded individuals who enjoyed each other’s company. Yes. A business venture.

After a few weeks of discussion, I realised that Steve wasn’t in any way ready to be moved in with. I suggested that we postpone (indefinitely) our co-habitation, and all discussion about it, and Steve hastily and eagerly agreed. The dialogue was shelved and our relationship continued along the happy trail it had been coursing. We returned to spending two or three nights a week at each other’s houses and being inseparable between Friday nights and Sunday evenings. I had my much-loved solitude a few nights during the week and the taboo subject of living together was never discussed.

A further six months later, around the 18 month mark in our relationship, Steve decided to broach the topic of living together again. He explained that he hadn’t been ready previously, but had reconciled that my proposal had been correct purely from an economic viewpoint, and that in order to streamline operations, we should try living together. I nodded as he said this and explained that I didn’t want him to feel pressured into doing anything as I was more than happy with they way things were (“and if it ain’t broke, why fix it?”).

“No, no,” argued the fellow pragmatist Reason 8 - he felt it was in both of our interests to look at it as a business venture and move in together as a cost-saving initiative. I think he even thought that this was his idea. I explained that I enjoyed things the way they were, but if he really felt strongly about it, I would be prepared to remove some of the clutter in my house for him to have some space for his own clutter. He could move in at the end of a month when the notice on his own apartment ran out.

So, I spent the following month clearing the spare room to create space for my soon-to-be live-in-lover. Steve seemed to be often busy in the fortnight preceding the move, explaining that he couldn’t see me most nights because it was taking him so long to pack up his many possessions – he didn’t seem to want any assistance either. I really thought nothing of it, reconciling that I would be seeing more than enough of him before too long and revelling in the lone-time I was able to enjoy.

The daySteve was due to move in, I hadn’t seen him for 10 days, although we had been speaking often on the phone, and sending text messages constantly (we were a couple of the new millennium after all – it was all about the text messages from start to finish).

I called him in the morning and he said that he was on his way over with a truckload of furniture and car full of clothing.

I never saw or heard from Steve again. Except the text message I got after leaving a few messages asking where he was. “Sorry babe. Can’t do this. Need space. CUO (“See you round”) Steve x”. So much for our adult, mature business proposal. The whole 18 month partnership was over with a single text. Steve never returned my calls or emails, and one day I came home to find all of my belongings that had resided at his house in a carton in my apartments foyer. For all I know he could have been dead. I didn’t ever get up the gumption to send him my ideal (not-very-mature) text back: FU U 8=9 (“Fuck you, you knob”) J

Reason 7 – sometimes they need no explanation

This one is enough to turn any woman off men for life – with a few PerezHilton embellishments of course!