Heartless OR am I just a selfish prick!

Tuesday the 29th

I can’t concentrate on work for the rest of my day, such is my nervousness about seeing Bryan this evening for what he’s expecting to be a celebratory dinner. Thinking back over my relationship history. I’ve never actually dumped anyone, accept that mutual understanding to finished our romance, so, don’t have the faintest idea how to get, well, disengaged.

Whenever I’d wanted to finish with the boys in the past, there was always something stopping me – something more than just cowardice, that is.

Bad timing – perhaps their birthday was coming up, or we’d booked a holiday, or Valentine’s Day was round the corner. It always seemed to me that just at the moment I decided I had to end it, there’d be something that would make me appear even more heartless if I did it just then. So, inevitably, I hang around, until it was them who finished with me.

Something that always made it all the more difficult was the fact that you’re not just splitting up with the person, are you? It’s all their friends, who have come to know you as a couple.

And their parents, who you might like, and, assuming they can get over the fact that you’ve been fucking with their son, maybe quite like you too.

Then there’s my friends – I’ve lost count of the times that my dear friends has cried more than I have over me splitting up with a particular boy. And as they’ve told me on countless occasions, they love Bryan. I just wish that I did.

And the thing that makes the prospect of this evening worse is while I know that Bryan sees this relationship as much as a business decision as anything emotional. I’ve seen how angry he gets when he loses out on a deal at work. And that’s not something I want to be on the receiving end of. Or put him through, to be honest.

I spend most of the afternoon pacing around my studio, wondering what the best approach is. I could send him an email, I suppose. I mean, that’s how people communicate formally now-days, isn’t it? Or a text. Maybe even a fax. But the trouble is, whatever medium I use, I am just not that good at giving bad news to people, because I always feel like I am letting them down. And while the last thing I want to do is let anyone down. I know now that if I do go through with this relationship, the person I’ll be letting down most is myself.

And Bryan too, of course, because after all, he has agreed to spend the rest of his life with me – after he asked me to. And now, just after few months later, I am withdrawing the offer.

Plus, he’s going to want a reason. A bona fide excuse. Something that he can hold on to, or rationalize, as to why I don’t want to continue our relationship. I could try the ‘love’ angle, I suppose, but he’d probably think I was silly for wanting it in the first place.

Trouble is, he’s good at arguing too, so I am likely to lose if we get into any sort of debate, and unless I am firm from the outset, there’s a danger I’ll end up staying with him simply because he’ll refuse to accept my reasons for wanting out.

So I am just going to have to be strong - for my own good, not just him. Cruel to be kind, I suppose. And if he‘s upset, I’ll just have to deal with it. Because that’s the nature of dumping’ – you leave someone down in the dump.

In a way, of course, Bryan's response will tell me if I’ve made the right decision. If he’s all emotional about it, then obviously he does really care about me, and while that’ll be tough to take, at least it means I am worth caring about. I’ve had a boy in the past, dumping me simply because he wanted to see my reaction, if I was all cut up about it, and pleaded with them to take me back, they they’d at least have the satisfaction of knowing I was interested in them.

But, as was more often the case, if I was more relieved than upset, well, again they’d know they’d made the right decision too. So all I have to do is tell Bryan straight out that I don’t want to get into this relationship with him, and watch his reaction, and if it’s what I suspect it’ll be, then that’ll be fine. If it isn’t, however, I am in trouble.

As I walk down from my studio and into TGIF’s, I try and look on the bright side. At least I’ve come to this conclusion now, and not a few years down the line, when I am unhappy, and he’s unhappy.

And, in effect, that means what I am intending to do is a good thing, because I am sparing both of us even more hurt is the future. But somehow, now matter how many times I tell myself this, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

I am a little early, which gives me just enough time to gulp down a glass of wine before Bryan arrives – as usual – at seven thirty precisely.

‘George,’ he says, sitting down at the table without even kissing me hello,

‘How do you manage it?’

‘Manage what?’

‘To always be exactly on time, for everything.’

Bryan glances at the clock on the wall, and then his watch. ‘I didn’t know I was.’

I wait to see if he’s joking, before remembering that Bryan rarely jokes. About anything,

‘Listen, Bryan, I..’

‘I thought you were supposed to be going to get a haircut?’

‘I did. Go. That is’

Bryan peers closely at me. ‘George, when I asked you to get a haircut, I didn’t mean a haircut,’ he says reproachfully.

‘No, I mean, I went to the salon, and everything, but..’ I stop talking, conscious that I shouldn’t have to explaining to Bryan – or anyone – about my hairstyle.

‘George, we can hardly have you looking like that for the party. Or the birthday, come to think of it.’

‘Who’s we?’ I say, my nervousness turning to irritation at the assumption that Bryan’s making.

Bryan frowns across the table at me. ‘Pardon?’

‘Who can’t have me looking like this for the birthday party? Who have you discussed the suitability of my hair with? Johnny? My friends? The others guest’s? Or are you deciding on my behalf?’

‘No, I just thoughts..’

‘You thought, and what else did you think? Do I need to lose a bit of weight? Or get a bit taller, perhaps?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, George. I just don’t want you to let yourself down, that’s all.’

‘Let you down, you mean.’

Bryan rolls his eyes. ‘Well, someone’s got to tell you.’

‘Tell me what.’

Bryan sighs, and leans in towards me, as if he’s explaining something to a child. ‘That you need to make a few.. changes.’

Here we go. I sit back in my chair and stare at him for a second, conscious that this is my big chance. ‘And that’s exactly why this relationship is going to be in trouble before it’s even happened.’

‘What?’ Bryan suddenly sit bolt upright. ‘Why?’

‘Because, relationships should be about finding someone who’ll let you be yourself. Not someone who wants to change you. I mean, I am not asking you to make any changes , am I?’

Bryan look at me blankly, as if to ask why he’d need to. ‘I am not trying to change you, George.’ He says huffily.’ I just want you to see that you need to change yourself.’

‘What’s the difference.’

Bryan stare at me, then at the menu, as if he’ll find the answer in there, ‘well..’

‘We’re all individuals, Bryan. And the secret of a happy relationship is letting someone be who they really are. Not trying to make them into your idea of who your perfect partner is. Because then there’s resentment. And pretence. And those things aren’t the basic for love.’

‘Love.’ Bryan looks at me in disbelief. ‘This is a relationship we’re talking about, George. What’s love got to do with it?’

I say, as if to the whole restaurant. ‘Tell me something, Bryan, when you walked in here this evening, what was the first thought that went through your head when you saw me?’

Bryan frowns. ‘The first thoughts?’

‘Yes.’

‘Apart from your hair?’ he shrugs. ‘Well, In was a little surprised you were early, I suppose, Oh, and that you hadn’t ironed your shirt very well.’

I sigh, then lean across and put my hand on top of his, ‘And that’s why this just isn’t going to work, I am afraid.’

‘Because you can’t iron a shirt?’

‘No, because that’s what you noticed about me. You should have happy to see me. Excited about our life together. Not.. Critical.’

Bryan looks at me levelly for a moment or two, then slowly removes his hand from underneath mine. There’s an awkward moment. ‘You loss.’

‘I know. And I am sorry.’ And continue ‘Really I am. Just need to find someone who loves me for, well, me. And so you too.’

Bryan shrugs. ‘That’s okey. Plenty more fish in the se.’

‘You men for me right?’

Bryan stands up abruptly, then leans over and kisses me on the cheek. ‘I hope so, George.’

‘I hope so too.’ I say.

I watch him leave, feeling slightly guilty, but knowing it’s for the best – and not just for me. Bryan needs someone a bit more, well, mouldable. Someone who doesn’t mind that he’ll run things. Boss them about, even. And there are people out there like that. I know- I’ve read about them on the internet.

And even though I am on my own again, I feel more than a little relieved, because I am starting to understand that there’s only one thing worse than being on your own, and that’s being in a relationship with the wrong person.

Because you’re even more lonely then.

Till then, I guess I am settled for being a loner as long am not lonely… So far has been a great 4 years and am still enjoying for being loner...

Casual Sex it's the shocking truth..

As we all know, hooking up for casual sex is bad for young people because it causes emotional or psychological damage.

But why we still do that?

Right?

Well, actually, no. At least not for young adults between the ages of 18 and 28, according to a new study.

Even they found the results startling.

They asked more than 1000 young gay man here, about their most recent sexual encounters, their self-esteem and their emotional wellbeing. Interestingly, only about 70% of the target’s said their last encounter was casual. But their overall emotional status was no different than the other 30% who said they were in committed relationships with their most recent sexual partner.

"We were so surprised," said Kenneth one of my friend as well as assistant professor at the local university's who studies adolescent and young adult health.

"The conventional wisdom is that casual sex, 'friends with benefits', is hurtful. That's what we've been teaching kids for decades,", he said.

Not that Kenneth’s advocates casual sex.

"Casual sex is not for everyone" as an emotional matter, he said. Moreover, there is real physical risk: rates of sexually transmitted diseases are rising.

But, he said, sex education curriculums, parents and public health programs should "focus on the things that are real threats," such as interpersonal violence, HIV risk and STDs, not on the theory that casual sex is emotionally harmful.

The researchers surveyed 1000 young adults in Kuala Lumpur, pulled from a group they began following years ago as part of a major ongoing research study in adolescent health and nutrition. All the people in the study were sexually active and answered a series of survey questions about their last sexual encounter, depressive symptoms and self-esteem.

The researchers divided the responses by how the subjects described their most recent sexual encounter. About 10 per cent said it was with a committed partner, 55 per cent said it was an exclusive dating partner, 10 per cent said it was with a close, but not sexually exclusive, partner, and 25 per cent said it was a casual acquaintance.

That breakdown fits with other similar surveys of young adults, Kenneth said.
But what was different is that they found no differences in reports of depression or self-esteem, regardless of gender or the type of most recent sexual encounter, he said.

Few other researchers have studied the question, and those who have posed the questions differently and surveyed other age groups. For example, one study found that teenagers whose first sexual encounter was casual rather than romantic were more likely to report psychological distress. Another found that college gay men who engaged in casual sex were more likely than their straight male counterparts to report depressive symptoms.

But Kenneth said his study is the first to include a wide cross-section of young adults. Two-thirds were chinese, some were full-time students, some part-time, some in college, some in community or technical schools and some weren't in school at all.

They did find some differences among the groups. Malay, for example, were more likely than Indian men to describe their last sexual encounter as casual. And twice as many gay men as straight men said their last sexual encounter was either casual or with a close but not exclusive partner - 29 per cent compared to 14 per cent.

That difference raises the obvious question: How can there be twice as many gay men having casual sex as straight men? The answer, Kenneth say, most likely lies in cultural norms that make it more acceptable for gay men to describe their sexual encounters as casual. "Young gay male have more of a tendency to characterise it as more special than, perhaps, the straight man did," he said.

Till then, I still can't figure it out why this thing happend. Can't someone out there tell me?

How old is too old - if only you can tell me...

Are we ever too old for this sex?

So I saw Sex and the City 2 last week. This review pretty eloquently sums up my feelings.

Quite frankly, I’m still offended.

Why? Well. IMHO the 'film' took what was once a bold, progressive and timely bit of pop culture and pulverized it into a soggy, silly, soulless mockery of modern life, love, women and sex.

Lock shock and four smokin' women

Sure, there were a few flaccid attempts made to confront sexual/social taboos but the central cast had been made into such gross caricatures of themselves that I found any mild message hard to swallow.

Indeed, the biggest question I walked away asking was, is there a point when we’re just too old for this shit?

Now, I don’t want to make this a love/hate SATC post (there are plenty of those ‘round already if you care to vent caustic fury or prattle sycophantically) and do let’s be clear - I’m not suggesting that a healthy, happy sex and love life hinges on age.

But healthy and happy are the key words here – words I felt were as foreign to the leading ladies in the flick as the conservative social customs of Abu Dhabi.

Rather than intelligently discuss and resolve problems they and millions of others face (sex and menopause, marriage without children, parental guilt, adultery, work/life balance), they just get drunk and go shopping.

Or resign themselves. Or make self-sacrificing 'compromises' that inevitably lead to resentment and relationship breakdowns.

Even though consumer queen Carrie has shacked up with Big in the stupidly opulent, childless apartment she always wanted, she’s still not happy and never will be as long as she thinks buying more stuff is the answer.

Even though nymphomaniac Samantha has managed to find a way to keep shagging man after meaningless man despite going through menopause – “I’ve managed to trick my body!” she exclaims, ramming a handful of pills down her throat and investing in good lube – her approach to sex hardly seems healthy.

And even though over a decade has passed since SATC first emerged, the fact that our protagonists are still behaving, dressing and interacting the way they did way back then suggests they’ve gained age but no wisdom – grown old but not more mature.

It’s like they hit thirty and claimed it as the new twenty, got to forty and said they were thirty and have now reached fifty and haven’t got a clue how a modern fifty-year-old ought to behave.

So instead, they behave like they did when they were young enough not to know any better.
And this is my beef.

I don’t think anyone’s 'too old' to shag or love or what not, or that they should ‘act their age’ (calendar age is an abstract concept) – but I do believe that we all have a responsibility to ourselves to actively ‘grow up’ not just passively ‘get old’… and I’m not sure that’s the message the Sex and the City 'girls' are really putting out.
(Oh zat is such a Samantha thing to say).

But that’s just me. What about you? Are we ever “too old for this”? Do modern women over forty ‘know’ how to behave? What’s your idea of a positive role model?

And what about blokes – is there a still a double standard when it comes to men and age and social expectations?

I am on fire....

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The end of the affairs....

How to end a relationship? Phone call, text message, change of Facebook status? Here is the options.

Getting dumped can be brutal. I learnt this when I was 25 years old and "going around" with a much older man. He was 35. Being vastly more worldly than me and also male, he was keen for some action. Armed with vast quantities of theoretical knowledge (thanks Dolly) and zero practical experience, I preferred the vague, romantic idea of "going around" to the nitty gritty of actually doing anything involving physical contact.

One morning in the playground, a few heady days into our relationship, Sam instructed me to meet him behind a classroom after uni that day for a pash.

Yes, a pash. He was nothing if not clear about his needs. Cue terror. I spent hours agonising over this request at length with my friends before sending word to him that I would be unable to attend. The repercussions were swift.

First thing the next morning, one of his mates crossed the playground to inform me: "Sam says you're frigid and you're dropped." And that's how the sun set on our beautiful bond. After four days. And a quick scan of the dictionary to find out what frigid meant.

I like to think this formative experience informed my attitude to dumping and gave me some compassion in later years when it was my turn to end relationships that weren't working.

Because I've had *cough* one or two of those. It's never an easy conversation, is it? There's no comfortable way to say, "Sorry, but I'd rather spend time with a house plant than you." I always tended to err on the side of mild cowardice, although I don't ever recall outsourcing my dumping to a friend.

The modern equivalent of that schoolyard approach?

Changing your relationship status on Facebook to "single" and waiting for your partner to see it and realise they are now your ex-partner. Apparently, that happens.

After quizzing a lot of people about their attitudes to break-ups, I feel emboldened to make the following generalisation: I personally prefer honesty but most man, I meant gay men prefer running away. And, as with all stereotypes, there are exceptions. For some unknown reason, a male friend decided to seek my advice recently when he wanted to end it with the boy he'd been seeing - not the naked kind of seeing, just a handful of dates and the odd kiss. "He's a lovely person but I'm not interested," he explained.

I nodded and made an empathetic noise.

He continued, "Instead of letting it drag on, I want a clean break so it's resolved and not awkward if we bump into each other in a month. He's away so I think I'll send him a text. What should I say?"

That's when I gave him some very bad advice.

"Oh, don't do that. Next time you speak to him,, just say you're really busy, then take a long time to return his calls and he'll eventually get the message."

Did you spot the mistake in that sentence? The mistake was the whole sentence. It shows I haven't been single in a while because when I re-told this story to a single friend, he shouted

"NO!" then threw a tea towel at my head.

Apparently, it's better to be upfront and honest instead of leaving someone waiting and wondering, hoping and angsting.

Who knew? I was suddenly reminded of that courtroom scene in A Few Good Men where Jack Nicholson is being interrogated by Tom Cruise. "You want answers?" Jack asks Tom. "I think I'm entitled," Tom replies. "You want answers?!" Jack repeats. "I want the truth!" insists Tom before Jack thunders: "You can't handle the truth!"

My single male-friend can handle the truth. He doesn't shy away from the difficult conversations, no matter which side of the break-up fence he's on. "I'm always direct when I don't want to keep seeing a guy, even after one date. I just text and say, "Thanks so much, it was lovely to meet you but I don't feel any chemistry so we should probably leave it there and just be friends, OK?"

Wow. That is direct (Note: on the text versus phone call question, he believes texting is acceptable if it's only been one or two dates. Anything more requires a call to deliver the same message).

It's a brave and honourable thing to be upfront but would you want to be on the receiving end of such honesty?

"Oh sure," he replied. "The alternative is much worse."

Then he told me about this one guy he'd been dating for a couple of months who was giving him mixed messages: keen for sex, not keen for anything requiring clothes or conversation.

This went on for some time until my friend was forced to call this guy and break up with himself. "You want to end this, don't you?" he asked him. Directly. He mumbled, he pushed it until he grudgingly agreed with him and then it was over.

Dumping yourself? Well, at least you can be guaranteed it will be done with kindness. And without anyone being called frigid.

Till then, why can't everyone be like my male-friends? BEING HONEST? Instead make peoples waiting and wondering.....

James story is my story....(II)

II
Still a little stunned at James news. I make my way into the shopping complex when I spot an attractive handsome man about to walk in through the opposite door. And when I say attractive, I don’t meant in a pretty way, er, Matthew kind of way - even though he is not European – but rather jaw – droppingly stop-me-my-tracks attractive, short hair, beautiful tan skin, a cute and full, kissable lips.

For a moment, I don’t know what to do. I could hold the door open for him, of course, but he might turn out to be one of those asshole who then decides to punch me in the face for being nice enough to imagine he couldn’t possibly manage this big heavy door without assistance.

Alternatively, I could just walk on through, thus making him wait, which would give me longer to stare at him. But by the looks of him, he’s in a bit of hurry, and whilst I quite enjoy bumping into attractive man on the street or shopping mall – especially since it’s the only physical contact I get with the same sex at the moment –given the speed he’s going, I might come off worse.

I make an executive decision to hold the door open and stand to one side, bracing myself for a verbal onslaught, or physical one, or even worse, a complete lack of acknowledgement, but instead, the guy smiles at me, and actually says thanks. And his smile is so warm, so genuine, so intoxicating, that perhaps foolishly I mistake it for more than just politeness, and so after I’ve waited for a couple of seconds, I turn round and follow him back into the shop, I am single, after all, as James’s recent announcement has reminded me, and besides, I owe it to myself to check him out.

As the security guard gives me a funny look, I quickly make the “I’ve forgotten-to-buy-something” face, and head off in the direction the guy’s gone, although where this turns out to be along the ‘feminine hygiene’ aisle, I have to make a quick detour. But when I emerge from the ‘skincare’ section, he’s nowhere to be seen. Hurriedly, I peer around the store, but there’s no sign of him, and I am just thinking about giving up and heading outside when I spot him, now dressed in a long white coat, emerging from a door behind the pharmacy counter and taking over behind one of the cash machine.

There’s a queue of customers, which I instinctively join the end of, while wondering what my approach should be. Only problem is, I don’t have a prescription like the rest of them seem to be clutching, so I quickly step back out of the line and stand there, looking at the cold remedies, while trying to work out what to do. I’ve got to see whether that initial smile was anything more than that, which means going over and talking to him, but about what? I’ve never been good at this chat-up lark, and especially under pressure.

And I know why: it’s the fear of rejection- the worry that the moment I lay myself bare, he’ll send me scampering shame – faced from the shop, my ego crushed by a simple ‘no’.

Because by suggesting something like a coffee, or drinks, or even dinner, what I am really saying is ‘I want to get to know you better, then have sex with you, with a view to maybe us spending the rest of our lives together.’ And that’s a scary thing for anyone to propose – even when it’s disguised as a latte at Starbucks – and especially when you’re making that proposal after something as simple as a smile.

Mindful of my earlier conversation with James, I realized that I have a decision to make, and it’s one that every single single man makes at least once a day –do I risk the humiliation of crashing and burning in an attempt to rid myself of my unattached status, and what’s worse, risk it when I am pretty sure any new relationships going to go the same way as all the others?

Well, given how attractive he is, and the alternative, there’s really just one answer to that. I pick up a bottle of Night Nurse and pretend to study the label, while actually studying the queue. Amid the coughing, spluttering, and limping line – and God knows what medicine they think they’re going to get to help them- there do seem to be a few people who are just buying deodorant, maybe because the queue here is shorter than the one at the cash counter at the front of the shop.

But that raises another issue – do I risk my own well being by queuing up with this unhealthy lot? Given that I need as excuse to talk to him, I don’t seem to have any choice, so I grab the nearest toiletry and rejoin the end of the queue. But then it occurs to me that simple walking up and paying for a tube of Lynx shower gel isn’t going to do the trick, so I put it back, than pick it up again hurriedly as edge closer and closer to the counter.

I am desperately starting to wonder how much conversation I can make out of the purchase of a packet of Nurofen as well when I have an idea. There’s a sign above the counter that says “ASK YOUR PHARMACIST”, and while I know they don’t meant ‘for a date’, this at least gives me a chance to have an actual conversation with him.

So, in theory, all I have to do is invent an ailment. But what? Because thinking about it, there’s a very short list of ailments that will show you in a positive light. A simple cold or flu, maybe – but trouble is ,I don’t sound like I’ve got any symptoms.

There’s only one person in between me and the counter now, and I am starting to panic. Excessive sweating? No- not good, especially since the combination of the store’s air-conditioning system that not cold enough, and the last thing I want to do is draw attention to that. My mind is playing tricks on me, suggesting the most embarrassing ailments. Athlete’s foot? No- he might think I need the cream for another itchy area. Piles? Best not. The runs? The runs! That’s it. Or at least, a sport injury. Gay man like sporty guys, right? And although apart from the odd game of tennis, the most sporty I get is when I watch the ‘footy game’ with my mate back in Melbourne, it might just work.

Happy with my plan, I slip the shower gel back onto the nearest shelf, and when I eventually get to the counter, surreptitiously check the name badge pinned to the lapel of his white coat – Frans Tjoeng – and prepare to launch into my story. But as he looks up at me, my mind goes blank.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Er, yes,’ I say, followed by ‘yes’, but an octave or two lower than my first, nervously squeaked reply. Trouble is, I can’t think of how, and the only thought that leaps to mind is why didn’t I hold on to the shower gel? I look around, but it’s too far away to reach without me losing my place in the line. What if I buy something that at least doesn’t have aloe-vera in it – that suggests I am a real man? But what? ’I’d like to buy some, I mean. I need…’ I stop talking, because he really is very gorgeous attractive man. And more importantly, I can’t think of anything.

Frans smile at me sympathetically, then taps the glas counter infront of him. Where the condoms are.

‘What size?’ he whispers

‘Pardon?’

‘Condoms,’ says Frans, slightly louder this time.

‘What size do you need?’

This takes me by surprise, not only because I am pretty sure I hadn’t said anything out loud about actually needing some, but also because I’ve been buying condoms for seventeen years, and never knew that they come in different sizes. But all of a sudden, it strikes me that buying a packet of condoms is an excellent idea. Two, maybe, to suggest that not only am I getting a lot of sex, but I am responsible as well, and what’s more, if I go for ‘ribbed’, it’ll make me out to be a considerate lover too. But then again, it’s embarrassing buying condoms at the best of times. And especially from the guy you fancy.

‘Er..’

‘Yes?’ says Frans

There’s a murmuring from the queue behind me, and I realized that I don’t have long. Maybe

I should just go with the condoms after all. But the who-wants-to-be-a-Millionaire? Million-dollar question still remains, and it’s a lot harder to answer than anything I’ve seen on the programme.

‘I am not sure. I mean. I’d like to say ’large’, obviously. But being honest. I am probably more of a medium. Not that I’ve ever had any complaints.’

Frans looks at me levelly. ‘What size packet?’

I am a little stunned at him directness. I mean. I know he’s a medical person, but surely this is a bit, well forward. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.’

‘Well?’ say Frans, patiently, ‘Thee? Six? Twelve?’

I want to say that I’ve never actually measured it, but I am sure most man would know that to be a lie.

‘Er.. Do you mean in “inches”?’

‘No,’ says Frans, producing a selection of different sized packet of Durex from beneath the counter. ‘How many?’

‘Ah,’ I say, although aargh might be more appropriate.

‘Well I, er, don’t actually need any. Condoms.’

‘You don’t?’ says Frans

‘No. I wanted some advice.’

‘Advice? Are you sick?’

‘Not exactly, ’I say, although I am beginning to worry that yes. I am. “I’ve got a, um, sport injury,’

Frans looks at me suspiciously. ‘Really? What have you done?’

Don’t say groin strain. Don’t say groin strain. ’It’s a. er, groin strain.’

Frans raise one eyebrow. ‘How on earth did you get that?’ he syas, tapping the top of the largest condom box with his index finger. ‘Or daren’t I ask?’

As I try and come up with a valid scenario, one of Frans’s colleagues opens up the next counter, and the people in the queue behind me move across to that one. Which of course means I’ve got no reason to hurry up. Even though now, I actually want to.

‘No, it was from playing…’ Playing what – the piano? ‘I mean, I was in the gym. And I, er..’ I stop talking, as I am in danger of getting myself into more trouble.

What more, it’s clear that Frans’s not buying any of this. ‘So, what would you, you know, advice?’ I say, pointing at the ‘Ask Your Pharmacist’ sign above his head, just in case he think I am acting inappropriately.

Frans thinks for a second or two. ‘Well, generally with any kind of strain, we advice something called RICE.’

I am a little confused. ‘What- like basmati?’

‘No,’ he laughs. ‘It’s an acronym. R-I-C-E stands for rest, ice, compression, elevation.

Though given that it’s your groin, I think we’d better forget the ice, compression, and, you know..’

‘Elevation?’

Frans nods. ‘Exactly, so just make sure you rest the affected area.’

‘Oh. Right.’ I say, trying to ignore the fact that the way he’s looking at me suggests he doesn’t think that’ll be a problem. ‘Thanks.’

‘So you won’t be wanting these, then?’ he says nodding towards the bumper pack of Durex.

I give the box a cursory glance, then suddenly feel guilty that I haven’t bought anything, though why, I don’t know. It’s not as if Frans owns the shop, or is he on commission, or something. ‘No, I’ll take them anyway. For when I am, you know..’

Frans picks up the box and scans it through.

‘Better?’

‘Yes, Better, and thanks.’

‘For the condoms?’

‘No. The advice.’

‘It’s what I am here for.’ Says Frans, although perhaps a touch ironically, before extending a hand towards me.

I take it, and give it a shake. ‘I am George, nice to meet you,’ I say, realizing that now’s my chance, and if I am going to ask him out, then I won’t get better opportunity. But whether it’s from a lack of confidence from all the failed relationships in my life, or the knowledge that I’ll have to buy my toiletries from Guardian from now on if he turn me down, or simply that I am over-whelmed by how handsome he is, I just can’t get the word out.

Reluctantly, I let go of Frans’s hand, but he keep sit extended. ‘It’s nice to meet you too, George, but I was actually after your nineteen ringgit.’

‘Oh. Right. Sorry. Of course.’ I feel myself blushing and hurriedly fish around in my pocket.

‘Here.’

‘Thanks.’ He says, handling me my change, along with the condoms, which he’s mercifully pit in a plastic bag, ‘And in the meantime, take care of that groin.’

‘Sure. Will do. Bye.’

He smiles. ‘Bye George.’

Reluctantly, I turn and start to walk away from the counter, only remembering that I should perhaps be limping when I am halfway out of the store, and when I look back over my shoulder to see whether I’ve been sussed. I guess the answer must be ‘yes’, because Frans’s smiling to himself, while shaking his head.

When I get outside, I peer into the bag to see exactly what it is I’ve ended up spending nearly twenty ringgit on, but the first thing I notice is the use-by on the box. Even though it’s a good two years away, given the way things have been going, my first thought is that I might end up having to throw most of them away.

Till then, I hope this is the good one and make you think how stupid man can be sometimes huh!....

James story is my story....(I)

It was Sunday morning when my mobile ringing and James cheerful voice at the other end.

‘Can we meet up for brunch soon?’ he said with very happy voice. ‘Of course this time on me.’ he added.

‘I got so much to do today, got date line to rush for, maybe later in the evening?’ I said, and still wondering why he sound so happy.

‘Come on, I need to see you,’ he said and ‘I really need you to come out from your cave just for me today.’

I glance at the time, it was 10.00am in the morning, not many people could drag me out from my place on Sunday especially when I got a lot of things in hands to settle right now.

‘Give me an hour and I’ll be there.’ I said.

‘Excellent,’ says James. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. And we’ve just got time for a swift one before they arrive.’

I get sudden feeling of déjà vu. ‘Don’t tell me – another potential ‘boyfriend’ for me.’

James laugh ’Well, you’re right about the ‘male’ part.’

I stop for moments, and lean heavily against my wall. James has tried to set me upon a number of occasions, none of which have worked out. Our tastes in man, like our tastes in music, are a little different. ‘This better not to be another prospective ex.’

‘No,’ says James. ‘At least, I hope not.’

An hour later, I am sitting at a table in La Bodega, the bar just round the corner at Bangsar Shopping Complex.

‘Here you go,’ James puts a pint down on the table in front of me, then - and not for the first time – glances anxiously at the main entrance. Given how nervous he’s looking, I am starting to get a little worried about what he might been up to.

‘Checking your escape route?’

‘What? No.’

He looks at his watch, then gulps down a large mouthful of larger.

‘Listen, George. I’ve got something to tell you. Well, it’s more of an announcement, really.”

When James doesn’t continue, I put my beer down and study his face, wondering what is it he’s having so much trouble saying. He’s perspiring, an it’s hardly hot in the bar, so either the brisk walk here took more out of him than normal, or he’s really worried about something.

For a moment, I wonder whether the ‘worries’ thing was just a ruse to get me here, and he feels he needs to be in a public place – with witness – before he can say what he’s got to say. But what? I know he’s gay, no man trouble – particularly since as far as I am aware he hasn’t had a boyfriend for the best part of the year – which just leaves one thing. And it’s the thing closest to James’s heart –money.

‘Hold on, James. I can guess what this is.”

He look a little surprised. ‘You can’t.’

James suddenly holds both hands up, as if he’s trying to fend off a beach-ball. ‘The guy that I am chatting online is coming to see me today,’ he said and ‘All the way from England.’

‘What?’

James nods. ‘Yes, can you believe it?' He says, evidently not quite believing it himself.

For a moment, I can’t think what the appropriate response should be, ‘When? Why?’ I start to say, then fortunately manage to turn them into a hurried. ‘Who’s this man?’

Before draining most of my beer in one gulp. ‘I mean, I didn’t even know that you had a long distance ‘chat-romance’ or ‘dating’ and you never tell me anything about this man.’

I shake my head, and then realized that as surprised as I am at his news, James is even more stunned at my reaction. ‘I am sorry, James, What I mean to say is ‘congratulations’, of course.’

He breaks into a relieved grin. ‘Thanks.’

We clink our beer glasses together, then regard each other across the table, grinning like idiots, until I actually have to ask. “But seriously, who’s this man? What’s he like? And how long have you two been chatting online?’

‘Matthew,’ he says, glancing at his watch again, and then at the entrance.

‘Is he?’

James frowns, ‘Is he what?’

‘Handsome, good looking, how old is he?’

James reaches into his wallet, then hands me a photograph of an extremely handsome man. ‘Although as a matter of fact, he is.’

I whistle appreciatively, ‘You’re telling me, he’s an Englishman from England, rights?’I say, studying the photo closely.

I shake my head incredulously.’ Well, you certainly managed to keep that quiet. And how long this has been going on?’

James shrugs, than adjusts his sunny. ‘I’ve been chatting with him for the past 6 months, only speak properly on the phone three times, but hundreds of times on my yahoo chat.’

I nearly drop the photo into my beer glass. ‘What? And he’s coming here to live with you?’

James snatches Matthew picture from me and carefully slides it back into his wallet.

‘Well, okey, maybe more than three times.’

‘Yes, James.’ I say, finally understand who today’s mystery guest is going to be, and why James is so nervous.

‘And you don’t think it’s a bit … Weird?’

‘Nah. A lot people out there does the same.’

‘But you haven’t see him yourself yet?’

‘Nope, but he’ll be along any minute.”

‘Hang on. So, how if he turn out to be fat old an ugly man, what, fifty year old?’

‘No worry, it’s only visiting me and get to know me and if all come along nicely,’ says

James, ‘he'll make a move and settle down with me.’ James added.

‘And you’ve arranged to meet him here? This afternoon?’

‘Yup.’

‘With me?’

‘Well, I wanted to make a good impression.’

‘Don’t you think you’d have made a better one by picking him up from the airport yourself?’

‘Nah, he thinks I am a businessman, So I said I had a brunch with my client.’

‘So I am the client?’

James grins. ‘I may have neglected to mention that particular fact. But you’re a famous writer, everyone read your blog!’

‘Well, that’s very nice of you to say so,’ I say, swelling a little with pride, ‘but I hardly think that’s true.’

‘Maybe not,’ says James, immediately bursting my bubble. ‘But he doesn’t know that does he?’

‘And what does he know about you? That you’re..’

‘Like I said a businessman,’ repeat James.’ And a successful one.’

As James fixes his gaze on the entrance. I don’t quite know what to say. For all his outward anxiety. James seems to be treating this as a pretty normal sequence of event. ‘Listen, Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to be meeting him on your own?’

‘You’re joking. I’d be a nervous wreck.’

‘As opposed to the cool, calm, collected person sitting in front of me?’

James grabs a service from the dispenser on the table and dabs at the sweat on his upper lip. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘No, James, you look fine.’

‘Great, because this is important, you know? And I’d hate to mess it..’ He suddenly stops talking and breaks into a huge smile, and when I look over my shoulder, I can see the reason why Matthew looks just like his photo, although he just dress in jeans and t’shirt – and to James’s obvious delight, he certainly lives up to his name.

James waves at him- a pretty unnecessary gesture, seeing as he’s the only other white man in the bar.

‘Hi,’ he says.

‘Hi, James,’ replies Matthew, smiling shyly up at him. His accent’s quite strong, and a little hard to place, although of course, having been live in England myself for few months it wouldn’t make any difference to me.

James half holds a hand out, not sure what the correct greeting is - although I have to say I’d be just as clueless given the circumstances – and they do an awkward little dance, before Matthew grabs him arm and kisses him lightly on the cheek. I can’t help feeling like I am intruding, and wonder whether I should just sneak away, but don’t think I’d be able to get past James, so instead, after I’ve left a suitable pause, just clear my throat awkwardly.

‘Oh yes, sorry,’ says James, looking around suddenly, as if he’s just remembered that I am here, ‘George, this is Matthew, Matthew, this George.’

‘Nice to met you,’ I shake his outstretched hand and concentrate on speaking very slowly, in the hope he’ll understand me. I know that they’re bilingual in a lot of English man, but James doesn’t always speak to his friends in English, so I can’t just assume that, might be a problem in them.

‘Let me get you a drinks.’ Says James, looking like he’s in need of another one himself.

‘Thanks, A lager please.’

As Matthew watches him go, I find myself staring at him, wondering what kind of man would up sticks and move halfway round the world just to meet up with total stranger that he meet and chat through the net!

‘Not too hot for you?’ I ask, noticing that his t’shirt was wet. Here in Kuala Lumpur, I mean, rather than this particular bar. Great. Thirty seconds after meeting Matthew, and I am already talking about the weather. And I wonder why I am single.

‘Oh no, I love it, nice and warm,’ says Matthew, sitting down at the table, ‘I am used to it, being warm and humid, plus, it’s nice to get away from the cold weather.’

I feel myself start to redden. ‘No, I mean, yes. But James hadn’t mentioned, well, anything about you until about five minutes ago. And I thoughts these online dating are all about… Well, I don’t know what I thought, to be honest,’ I say, to no one in particular, bebofe picking my beer up and pretending to be interested in something floating in the glass.

Matthew nods. ‘and so it’s natural to see whether we might hit it off or not.’

I excuse myself and head off to the toilet, leaving an embarrassed James to explain what he meant, hoping for his sake that he hasn’t fallen at the first hurdle. But my fears are unfounded, as by the time I come back, they’re gazing into each other eyes like lovesturck teenagers.

I finish the rest of my beer quickly, than clear my throat. ‘Well, as much as I’d like to stay here and play gooseberry, my work at home is waiting. Matthew, it was lovely to meet you, James, thanks for the beer. And congratulations, both of you and have some fun.'

‘Thanks, George,’ says Matthew, standing up, and giving me a peck on the cheek.

’Great to meet you too. And I’d love your blog, it was great and real.’ He smiles down at James.

‘Thanks.’ I say as I make my way toward the main entrance.

What gay man want in their partner...Or it's just me dreaming?

What men want in his partner/boyfriend? At least for me

No such thing as a straight stick ...Or are gay men too picky?

When Jane Austen wrote it was "a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a partner", she was writing,

Even then, with irony. Two centuries on, the very term "partner, boyfriend, girlfriend, COMPANION, and, wife or relationships", let alone the idea that a man may be looking for one, seems almost quaint. With the C word comes connotations of aprons, obedience and gossip over the back fence, not to mention unflattering variants like fishwife, housewife, partnership and trouble 'n' strife.

But while the C word may seem archaic, partner and mistress remains hugely popular. Most men still choose for partnership as well companionship and in hetro life they choose to be married instead of keeping one mistress, even though they do so later in life than previous generations. So what do they look for when they choose a partner, wife or even mistress? A best friend, a sexpot, a maternal figure or a trophy?

Do their true desires bear any resemblance to what women think men want? The answers are as varied as men themselves.

In my small journal, I wrote a list. A list of the 28 things I seeks in a man.

From integrity, charm and sophistication to perspective, good skin and enthusiasm. Further down the list comes culinary skills, musical appreciation and, finally, good heart.

"Every man I go to bed with, ever, I'm thinking whether he'd make a good partner,"

I had other thoughts on my ideal partner, beyond the list I keeps in my ‘make-it-happend list’.

For a start, there is the matter of how he balances work and domestic. It’s fine with the idea of a partner with a career, so long as he stays home at night. "A man's with financial independence is emasculating - for me - but you have to deal with it."

Physical appearance is a factor, too, though less important to me than it once was. "It used to be all about the look when I was younger,"

"It was, 'I want him to be hot; I want all my friends to want him.'"

I would also prefer a man who is not from the same black-ground as me – as my previous boyfriends was Scottish, New Zealander and Australian but my current ‘date’ is Chinese.

"I have for years not wanted a local based man because, unfortunately, I find Malaysian like a village,"

"Reputation follows you around." He doesn't want to walk into a party with his boyfriend, knowing five of his friends have already dated him.

And he doesn't want the kind of man who is always nattering away to old school friends about ancient teenage gossip. "I want something a bit exotic, something no one else has got their hands on."

Oh, yes, and one more thing - "Ball breaking must be kept to a minimum.”

"I mean, really, if a guy does everything you want, he shows you affection, why break his balls?"

And they say I am very picky

"My expectations have been crushed every time because men do not conform to my ideas of what is perfect and, for a lot of guys, it is a search for perfection.” Does that make me ‘asking too much?’

I remember, one of my friend give some advice years ago: "You're walking through a forest looking for a straight stick, but you're going to come through the other side empty-handed because there is no such thing as a straight stick."

And my friend recently urged me to get on with it, prodding me about relationship. He pointed to his hairline, then his waist, before telling me, "You're going off. Find a boyfriend, quickly."

"Sometimes the worst thing that can happend is having successful role models in my group for relationships, because what you find doesn't match up, and you feel disillusioned,"

I always letting him know this relationship will not necessarily last forever. We're always having it banged into us to have a Plan B.

Don't all of us had that 'plan B' thing in our life? Cos, my plan B is going to be practice very soon.....

Till then, hope you still enjoying reading my page here....

Dating - Is there really rule for it?

So you think you can date?

You probably can, but it's more complicated than ever before.

A friend recently hit me up for dating advice: "How do you tell if someone is a real name-dropper or just nervous and trying to impress you?"

The innocent question threw me: is there a rule that distinguishes acceptable self-promotion from self-indulgent arrogance?

I'm sure there is. There are countless rules. Dating advice long ago gave way to dating laws, even if nobody is quite certain what they are.

They wear the mantle of scientific observation. "If he is available Tuesday, you are available Thursday."

"Take him where everyone knows your name." Always be yourself, but let us show you how.

But while we're inundated with dating do's and don'ts, people seem more confused than ever. The rise of "rules" appears to be one response to the unprecedented freedom and diversity of modern relationships: too much choice can leave us floundering for something solid to hang onto. And, of course, not everyone's rules are the same.

Is it OK to complain when your date is more interested in their BlackBerry than your conversation?

What if they unexpectedly bring a friend?

And the big question: are you even on a date, or are you just hanging out?

Sex and relationship columnist Maureen Matthews says that rules can be both help and hindrance in a budding romance.

You can have guidelines and things that alert you to common mistakes people make when they're infatuated, but when it gets to the point, really be open to the other person. Don't make it all about you.

"Some people go out there with this long list of things that they want but until you meet the person you're going to fall in love with, you don't actually know what you want."

Friend of mine, Todd's runs "single volunteers" events in Melbourne: singles get together to volunteer their time to a good cause (such as preparing food for the homeless) while meeting like-minded souls in a friendly environment.

"It's a pretty rough world out there when it comes to the whole dating thing," he says.

"Whether you play by the rules or not, there's certainly room for some more respect for others' feelings."

For example, he would like to see people actually having a conversation to let people down rather than leaving them hanging.

"I just found the whole dating scene to be pretty abhorrent, really. I set this up because I was looking for a boyfriend and just could not bring myself to try speed dating or any gay website, which felt like it would be one continuous job interview, or the online thing where you have no idea if there's chemistry or not. Or where somebody tells you they're 'athletic' and it turns out to be only from the head up."

Todd's events don't put the focus on being single. "It's about being someone wanting to make a difference, who happens to be single," he says.

The lack of pressure, along with a shared sense of social conscience, has paid off: a recent event drew 216 singles resulting in 106 matches (as well as 7000 meals and a further ton of prepped vegetables).

It can be hell out there. My single friend James has tried all kinds of dating, from set-ups via mutual friends to speed dating and dating websites. James has rules. Don't start with a formal dinner - coffee or a drink are quicker and therefore less potentially disastrous ways of getting to know someone. Don't spend the time fiddling with your phone: your date may assume you're updating friends on your progress, and they are there for one-on-one-time rather than a group analysis of their flaws.

And don't sleep with someone first time around. "I don't know a single person who has slept with someone on a first date and had a relationship out of it," James says.

But he also has rules about rules, which is encouraging. Because what might at first appear to be deal-breakers can sometimes be misleading.

First dates are always nervous encounters, and the desire to make the right impression can come out wrong.

"Some of the guys I've been on dates with have come across as really arrogant but actually they're just shy and are overcompensating. If you think someone has redeeming qualities, try to get beyond that first date. What I'm saying is make allowances. I've had some terrible first dates."

The protocols of courtship common a century ago appear very formal today. Take calling cards: any eligible Victorian-era gent wishing to impress himself upon a belle would have an ample supply of these pocket-sized expressions of intent.

He'd drop one by the home of his desired, and if his family deemed him worth a follow-up he'd perhaps be granted an audience with Mother or Father in the sitting room. First dates were with parents, not the object of affection - for much of human history, relationships has been a social arrangement more than a personal one.

Think of the ways people get to know each other these days - texting, social networking sites, checking references from mutual friends. Once it could take weeks of awkward small-talk to suss out someone's likes and dislikes. Now we have a wealth of new media to do the work for us.

These technologies set new rules of engagement we may not even be aware of. Imagine this: a website that drags together all your online personal data, from Facebook to gay website updates to movie-viewing and music-listening preferences. It already exists on line. Suitors can research your personal preferences and daily activities without exchanging a single word.

It sounds a little like stalking. But perhaps it's just a way of handing the old matchmaking role to the latest technology.

It's not just the early adapters looking for love online. The fastest-growing demographic for Australia's most popular dating sites is the over-50s crowd who might not feel as comfortable in pubs and clubs.

Online dating culture doesn't come without risks. Only last week an Australian online dating service was accused of creating fake profiles and using them to "flirt" with paying members. And in Kuala Lumpur, most peoples just want to have a sex and not even want toknow your last name or even remembering you phone number..... It's kind of sad sometimes.

This isn't an isolated case: I've been told that many singles web services at least initially begin by creating false accounts. After all, nobody wants to be the first to arrive at the party.

Technology is moving in on our love lives in ways we may not even realise. A site such as Facebook gay website (to name a few) may not be as romance-focused as rsvp.com.au but as a ubiquitous tool of modern communication, its particular form affects how we exchange howdies with future lovers.

Then there are the rules imposed on us by others. In some cases these are cultural - the expectations of family or community. Todd is Jewish, and the relatively small population in Melbourne has coloured his dating experiences.

"It's hard when you're in a particular ethnic minority or religious denomination. You've got this pressure of 'my cousin probably knows your brother and your driver and your dog breeder' and that makes people even more ill at ease."

A close community can bring on dating horror stories.

"I went on a date with a guy that was an absolute arsehole to me. Really nasty and kept telling me to shut up the whole way through the date. I found out much later that in between asking me out and us going out, he'd actually met someone else. I found out two months ago that it's my cousin and that they're in early stage of their relationships. That's what dating in the Jewish community is like!"

External pressures can be even subtler than this. Often our choices about the right partner are influenced by our friends, but Matthews cautions against putting too much stock in post-date debriefing sessions.

Listening to your buddies really does need to be taken with a pinch of salt. I doubt whether everybody's friends are all really perceptive social counsellors.

"I've known couples who look on the surface to be quite inappropriate, and they've been extremely long-lasting. Nobody from the outside can know what is going on in a relationship."

"It's such a dating culture over there that all you need to do to meet people is dress nice and go to a bar. The initial thing of meeting people and exchanging details is very easy. People are very open to it."

It wasn't merely the dating culture that stood out. The rules are significantly different.

"You can date as many people as you want at the same time without any obligation," I says.

"And it's weirder to not be dating than to be dating. If you're single and you're not seeing anyone, it's strange. Even if you don't necessarily like these people, to not be going out on dates is weird."

In Kuala Lumpur, approaching someone at a bar and swapping digits doesn't have the stigma that openly hitting on someone might here. According to Dean, you'll seem more suspicious if you're not open about your interest and try to play it overly cool.

"Australia has a dating culture of introductions, and unlike Kuala Lumpur" I says.

"It's almost like a 19th-century thing." One more tick for my thesis. "It's almost impolite to meet someone on your own; you're introduced to them."

Friends of friends, that kind of stuff. People generally come with a reference.

Could it be time to ditch the notion of dating and embrace the confused, techno-mediated landscape of Australian relationships, where rules apply only when you want them to? It's not likely to happen. We'll always have standards and preferences and develop rules to fit them.

What kind of rules of thumb does Matthews suggest?

The most attractive thing is if somebody is interested in you and actually listening. There's nothing worse than when the first date is like a job interview where the person is laying down everything they've got and achieved and been.

"And be loveable! So often we're going 'what's he or she got to offer me?' What have you got to offer them? Be affectionate and warm and genuine and see whether you both genuinely feel something for each other."

Till then, hope you had a great 'date' and please take note about those rule.... and tell me who's rule those rules......

ENJOY...

The ex'factor....Am I the only one?

It's so much easier to look backwards than move forwards. Take Sienna Miller for example. After everything that had happened, she went back to her ex-boyfriend Jude Law. After a roller-coaster ride on the dating scene, no wonder she decided that getting back together with a lying, cheating cad of a playboy was a better option than dating blokes who are still married, have more baggage than Victoria Beckham on a long-haul flight, or, maybe, being alone.

It's part of the classic break-up cycle and this is how it goes: you date, you dump (or get dumped), you cry, you hate, you stalk, you pick yourself up and attempt to move on. You party like it's 1999 and then wake up one day and realise that you haven't moved on at all.

Single life becomes about as appealing as chewing your own toenails and then you enter the next break-up phase: the I-want-my-ex-back stage. You start to wonder if they really were the best you're ever going to get. As they say, better the devil you know.

At first, dating a long-time-ago ex sounds rather appealing. After all, you dated them once before, so what's the harm in giving it another go?

Forget about why you dumped them the first time around - perhaps they've changed. Maybe they've matured. Perhaps they've ditched their drinking/smoking/commitment-phobic behaviour and have morphed into the perfect, doting, ring-buying boyfriend! Yes. It's bound to work.

But is rekindling an old flame just falling into the same pattern all over again? Is it defeating the whole purpose of learning from your past relationship, making new mistakes and then moving forward?

Being single again I decided to do an audit of my exes to see if there was something I had missed the first time around. Ex hunting is probably a sport best practised anonymously. Ask friends of friends to scope out their relationship status, stalk their Facebook pages for any signs of a wedding photos and corner them at the supermarket while casually mentioning your name and the fact that you're newly single.

I decided to take the direct approach and contacted them one by one. I discovered one was married, one was living halfway across the world, one invited me to stay with him in Melbourne for the weekend, one told me he's happily in a relationship with his boyfriend and one suggests a booty call. "For old time's sake," he says with a wink.

What was I looking for?

What was I thinking!

What I quickly discovered was that, while the sparks have all but evaporated, the suggestion that all the good ones are married (force to be married), taken or in open relationship is just not true. The good ones are still around. They just haven't found someone who rocks their world quite yet.

What I learnt about myself from the ex-hunting experience was perfectly articulated (for once) by The Hills reality star Heidi Montag who recently exclaimed about her soon-to-be-ex hubby (or so we hope!) Spencer Pratt: "Who am I without him?"

I too have felt lost without a man by my side. But a disappointing outcome in my ex-hunting expedition helped me realise that I, like so many singles out there, seem to crave the feeling of being safe, secure, loved and sheltered from the treacherous game-playing world by someone who already knows all your faults and foibles.

But did I really miss all those exes for their riveting personalities and warm hearts?

Or did I simply miss being someone's partner without all the mind games?

I still don't know the answer.

But one thing I know for certain is this: ex hunting can sometimes be a therapeutic and even successful dating sport.

Just ask Sienna Miller.

After all, we deserve a second chance, don't we?

So, what do you think?

Till then, I guess, it's nothing wrong to get back to our Mr. Ex' especially when the sex is damn good, as long that he's not the wanker or the arsehole type that broken your heart at the first place......... G'nite and G'luck....

Who say old and single is desperate and not happy - learn some from Sex and the City

Not all older single peoples, no matters they’re straight, gay or whatever label you put on it want to settled down with a partner nor do they want a ring on their finger, and they have a message for relatives, friends, acquaintances and life's random buttinskys who think they need one:

Shut up already!

They have other messages: we are not all sad. We are not all been dumped, unlucky in love or unlovable. We are not all straight or gay (and even if we were, have we not evolved as a culture, even just a little, to stop making that assumption? Don't answer that.)

Singledom and a massive case of "singlism" are red hot right now as Samantha Jones cracks menopause jokes at 54 as she romps in the desert with her three fab friends in Sex and the City 2. If you haven't watch the part two of Sex and the city – go watch it!

For women, say 45 and up, who are living single and always have, it is a chronically sizzling subject as they face down the seemingly unstoppable tangle of stereotypes that has plagued them for EVER: Old Maid. Desperate. Quirky. Cougar. Incapable of committing. Workaholic. Bitter. Damaged goods.
"There always has to be something wrong," said Rose Clayton, 48, who works in the tasting room of a winery, and always has been single. "It's always, ohhh, what's wrong? I always go, 'With me you mean? Or other people?"'

Imagine being happy and nobody believes you, she said. "I have plenty of friends. I go out and do things. I travel, go to dinner and parties, socialise."

Social psychologist Paulo is 56 and happily an always-single. He has been trying to turn off the stereotypes and end the stigma, first through a book, Singled Out, and now a blog called Living Single for Psychologytoday.com.

Older, single man and women often are painted as what Paulo called "quirkyalones" when really they're "singles at heart" and wouldn't have it any other way. Even more important, perhaps, he asks why we're still desperately trying to suck them into the "Matrimania" vortex?

"The single at heart are not looking for long-term coupling, whereas quirkyalones still romanticise the quest for The One, and that makes the quirkyalone less threatening, easier to understand," Paulo said.

Over-the-top hyping of marriage, partnership and coupling, was not necessary back when everybody got partner or married, when they broke-up less and when they had little opportunity for financial security.

Negative assumptions about living single and older do not pack the wallop of other "isms," like racism, Paulo said. "There's no consciousness raising. The stereotypes are so rarely challenged."

Robinson, 59, is madly in love with the single life he's always had.

"I remember really lighting into my grandmother when I was in my 20s for referring to a time when I was going to settle down," said the writer in New York City. "I told her never, and I think she went into shock. She was the sweetest person in the world, and I got really mad at her."

Not so much has changed in nearly four decades, said Robinson.

Living happily single without hunting for a mate, or living happily single while dating, especially outside one's age range, the stereotypes never end.

Take the cougar craze. Kim Cattrall, Samantha in the Sex and the City movies, recently questioned the term, for herself and her character in the movies.

"I think cougar has a negative connotation," she told Extra, a show biz television show. "I was asked recently by a significant magazine for women over 40 to pose with a cougar, and I refused to do it because I felt it was insulting. They took away the cover because I refused to do so."

Paulo said friends, family, colleagues and the world at large sometimes can more easily get their minds around an older single peoples interested in younger men, or any man, than a woman who makes it clear she is not and really likes her life without that goal in mind.

"I think there's really a belief that if you settle down you are actually a better person than a single person," he said.

Like Cattrall's Samantha, 45-year-old Sarah, has her own public relations firm. She loves how her life is "really focused on me," but falls somewhere in the middle on the issue of a long-term relationship. Ideally, she said, she would love to have "a great guy around," so long as he does not live with her.

As for me life has been so damn great in the past three weeks, my sex life was rocket-up to the top, like what I always told my mates:

“SEX : Take it when it’s offered, because this is one commodity where you can’t demand. But never pay more than market price and always tips generously..”

Who want to settled down when am single and never run-out of supply!

Wait for minutes, you must be kidding huh!!!

Let me tell you something, the boys, been knocking my door and wanting for more do I need to stop them? The answer is not, cos as I said, this is a one commodity that is ups and downs, you I don't know when it 'will' down, so why should I not enjoy it the moments that the supply is there…

Till then, have a lovely weekend and tell you for sure, this old single man, never been lonely…

Have some safe fun!