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 4 – their sense of humour can be somewhat… warped

I met Reason 4, at a friend’s birthday party after hearing about him for quite a number of months. Ian was a friend of a friend who had apparently just transferred with his company out to Sydney, Australia. He was made out to be a slick, smooth Londoner with looks to kill and a wit as quick as a flash. Getting to the party late, it wasn’t hard to spot him chatting to a group of enamoured girls and I wasted no time at all making myself known to him. I introduced myself and told him that his reputation preceded him. I was only talking to him for a few minutes before another hopeful came over to interrupt us and introduce herself.

It wasn’t until much later in the night that my chance came to speak to Ian again and this time, I made sure to hold his attention for longer than the initial few minutes. We chatted for a while and exchanged business cards this time, before heading our separate ways to leave the party.

The following Monday, he sent me an email, saying simply:

A colleague just asked for a contact at your company because we are looking for a way into you. Oo er.

His sense of humour was a little off-beat but it appealed. I laughed out loud when I read this, and a series of flirtatious e-mail ensued. He called me the following Wednesday night and asked if I would like to join him for dinner and a drink the following evening. I agreed.

We arranged to meet straight after work so that we could do a little Christmas shopping before dinner (my wishes, I had a lot to do before returning home for Christmas three days later). I waited at the station for almost an hour and was about to give up and get on the next train when I saw him, sauntering down the platform, a guilty smile playing across his lips. “Sorry,” he said when we met, “I got held up. Just as I was leaving my manager called me into his office to tell me that we’re about to lose a big account.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek before adding, “I had forgotten how beautiful you are.” Everything was forgiven.

We caught the train into town and did a bit of Christmas shopping as planned. Ian was more than content to trail after me as I poked into shops and bought a few last minute gifts. We had a lovely Japanese dinner followed by a drink or two in a local bar and chatted about all sorts of things. Ian made me laugh a lot which is my biggest weakness in a man.

We ended up the night at my place and Ian decided that he would stay over. The next morning we got the train together to work and again, chatted and laughed the whole way there. As we were getting off the train, I said, “I’ll see you soon.” Ian smiled and shook his head, “I don’t think so,” he said, “let’s face it. You used to be unattainable, but now I’ve moved you to the “used goods” category.” Luckily, he said this with a smile, and again I realised it was his off-beat sense of humour rearing it’s head once more. I didn’t quite get it straight of the mark, but I guess I would learn to.

That day at work, we continued to e-mail and his e-mails still made me laugh. The following day, I went home for the Christmas break. Ian continued to send me humorous texts, including one that said: “Hi there. Just finished sending Christmas e-mails from work. I have been walking around with my trousers undone all afternoon. The beauty of being a smaller man was that nobody noticed.”

Who sends that sort of text messages? I couldn’t work out if he was hilariously funny, or just plain weird. I opted for the hilariously funny option.

On Christmas day I received a text, saying “Happy Christmas in the sun. I’m looking over the bay, shooting kookaburras. Wonderful.” Again, his sense of humour made me laugh.

When I sent him a text upon my return to Sydney to see if he was yet back in town, his response was, “Not as yet, still shooting things.”

I spoke to Reason 4 on New Years Eve when he rang. Unfortunately, I was at a party and the champagne was flowing. I couldn’t hear what he was saying and so said that I would speak to him later. Later that night, I sent a text message to a friend to tell her where I was. My text read some thing like “At Establishment Bar still. Can’t wait to see you. Love you loads.” I sent this and seconds later realised that (of course) I had sent it to the wrong person (NB: I have only sent texts to the incorrect recipient twice ever. Why were both of those inappropriately to boys I was trying to woo at the time…?). Since I had to call Ian anyway, I called him, partly to apologise, and partly to see how his night was going.

It was noisy in the bar that I was in and again I could barely make out what he was saying. I started by apologising for the text that I had just sent and explained that it had been intended for someone else. Ian cut me off by saying, “Look, let’s be honest. You are just coming on way too strong. Telling me you love me. It is just too full on. Anyway, I have to go.”

And with that he hung up.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I was in shock. I sent him a message saying: “Sorry. Coming on too strong was never my intention. The text was meant for someone else. Have a good new years.”

I sent this and hoped for the best. The response soon came:

I was only messing with you. I didn’t take your love seriously. Will talk soon. x”

I didn’t respond, deciding that New Years Eve after one too many drinks was not the time for lengthy discussions on intent vs. perceptions. The next day Ian rang and left a message asking me to call him, again apologising for the joke going wrong.

I called him the next day and we laughed about the whole miscommunication. After hearing my deep, raspy voice (the voice of a non-smoker being surrounded by smokers for days), he even joked, “If I didn’t know what you looked like, I would find you very attractive.”

We finished the conversation when I told him to give me a call if he was around later so that perhaps we could catch up.

The next time I heard from Reason 4 was later that night when I received a text message from him. He was out with a friend of his and knew that I was out with a girlfriend. The text read: “Am about to go to Crow’s Nest with Alex to get a hand job from a girl with nice boobs. Unless you and your mate want to earn $150.”

Now, I think my sense of humour is normally fairly good, and occasionally a little off-centre. But even I wasn’t sure how to take that one.

Reason 3 – they’re not good with directions

When we first moved to New York, my girlfriend and I used to go out quite a lot, introducing ourselves to the locals and learning to love their Nu Yawker accents. One night in a bar, I got talking to Reason 3, Adam, who was working in advertising, apparently in the building three doors down from where I was working. Adamseemed the wholesome, American type with perfect teeth and an accent straight out of a blockbuster movie. He did come across (to put it bluntly) as a little daft, but one flash of those pearly white teeth and I was immediately keen. I agreed to go out on a date with him the following Friday night and he called me a few times during the week, “just to say hi”. Adam was a sweetheart.

Friday night came and we met in a bar not far from where we both worked, before going for dinner at a nice restaurant not far away. Adam insisted on paying for all of the drinks and the meal and suddenly he wasn’t so daft anymore. That’s not to say he was smart, because he certainly wasn’t, but he perhaps wasn’t quite as dumb as I had originally thought.

After dinner, we went to a bar and then later to a nightclub where Adam and I drank and danced. At some point during the night, I decided that he was indeed a very lovely man, but that I wasn’t interested in anything long term. That’s not to say that I wasn’t interested at all, because Adam was a very attractive man, with an even more attractive body. And a girl alone in New York could certainly do a lot worse. At the end of the night, my date offered to walk me back to my apartment building and when I explained that it probably wasn’t within walking distance he offered to see me into a cab. Seizing the day and all of that, I suggested that Adam come home with me and that slow little brain of his took no time at all to process my proposal.

Adam’s lack of brainpower was more than overly compensated in his sexual prowess and we proceeded to have mind blowing sex for most of the night. The next morning, I was woken by a man kissing me gently and rather sensuously and again we proceeded to have more great sex. After the act, Adam asked if I wanted some breakfast and I asked what he would like, knowing full well that my understocked refrigerator probably wouldn’t contain much more than a lump of cheese, a few opened bottles of wine and probably one or two other harder alcoholic beverages. When I told him this, Adam said, in his all American way, “No problem. I’ll run down to the 711 and grab something, and bring it back up for us. Buzz me in, okay.” And with a kiss, he was gone.

Well, I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. And then I feared the worst. That Reason 3 hadn’t been smart enough to find his way back to the apartment (which was above the convenience store he would have been visiting). As I wrapped myself in my sheet and dashed over to the window, I expected to see a bemuddled Adam standing on the pavement scratching his head, a querying look on his face as he tried to recall which bright red door he had just exited from. But I didn’t. Adam had escaped. And he hadn’t even had the decency to give me the diet coke I had requested. Nor leave a number for me to contact him. I never saw Adam again.