Exclusivity in the modern dating game..

What does it mean after one date, a bit of a snog and a few saucy text messages to get hit with the question "so are we exclusive?"

It is a bitch of a question in my book because it is way to early to know the answer to that unless you are a 18 year old romantic that still believes in true love and in reality when it is ready to be exclusive, you should not have to as such a stupid question.

Being the cynical bastard I am, I took it as a trap. A test to see if I was playing her.

I replied that while I had nothing else on the go, I could understand if she needed a little time to sort stuff out.

I could see us going exclusive in the near future but one date was a little early for me to expect her to just drop everything as well as her nickers.

She liked this answer and I thought I had dodged the bullet. More fool me.

This girl is out there in the land of crystals and auras and connection with the universe.

My connection with the universe is limited to acknowledging that in the words of Carl Sagan, I am made of star stuff...on a chemical level I could just as well have been a part of the sun or a comet.

Ironically those chemicals get all mixed up in new and interesting ways and as luck would have it, between answering the exclusivity question truthfully and date two I was hit upon by two other girls that seem much more interested in lube and a lack of exclusivity .

Normally this would not be an issue, despite my levels of mischief while single, when committing to a relationship I am right there in the moment and such opportunities while flattering, are not acted upon.

They were let down gently and both made sure to remind me to call if the situation changed.

Date two was a challenge.

It involved the reading of auras, the channeling of energy, a guided meditation and me being the only bloke in a room full of slightly quirky new aged girls.

Did I mention that three of them were insanely hot Brazilians...oh, it must have slipped my mind while I was focused on channeling white light to my chakras.

So after ruefully watching the last bit of Brazilian skirt leave the party we retired to the beach to discuss exclusivity.

It seemed that it was not a trick question but one aimed squarely at ensuring she could go on a date with another bloke. It was her perfect reason to delay things progressing beyond snogging, just in case she likes this other bloke more.

Rain and a thunderstorm provided the perfect excuse to wrap things up at that point.

As I drove home with my head spinning a little I did the only thing that seemed fair. I texted the other two girls that I had brushed off earlier in the week and made a date with both of them, for the same night...

Making waves

For those that know me, I don't sleep a lot. I stay up late and start early in the morning.

Most people will spend about one third or more of their life asleep, for me I think it will be less than a quarter. Granted it is probably not healthy but that is a whole other issue.

Despite this I love a good bed. The mattress on my workbench is one of my most indulgent purchases and I smile every time I slide between the sheets as it embraces me. Until recently.

I have discovered an old lover. She was long forgotten and relegated to the too hard basket of bedroom conflicts. Now I find her in my mind, tickling my fancy and making me wonder if I could go back to her.

That 70's/80's fad, the water bed has re-entered my life.

Walk back in time with me for a moment. At about age ten, my parents upgraded from a single bladder, hard sided water bed to a baffled, soft sided model. After some begging and pleading I got myself the queen sized cast off.

So began a love affair that ended in the way of all great Greek tragedies....well minus the sodomy.

For those that have not enjoyed a water bed I must explain the attraction. First of all is the temperature. Water beds are heated but the key here is that with careful adjustment with the seasons you can tweak them to the perfect temperature.

In winter, you make it slightly warm so that when you get under the covers there is no shivering or squealing as your nut sack hits the cold sheets. Better still, in the hot Aussie summers you can dial the temperature down a little so that the bed actually draws heat from your body meaning you can comfortably sleep through a 35 degree night with the covers on, never breaking a sweat.

The second benefit is the support. I can't explain it any other way except to say that there are no pressure points and to me it just feels magical. The bed hugs you back.

Finally there is the wave assist when making the sex. It is the original green power solution, where every third stroke is free. Seriously, if you get your timing right it is bloody amazing.

Having said that, it can be a bit like having an extra partner in the room because if you forget that this is a three way team it can get pear shaped pretty quick and normally ends in an accidental head butt, bruised kidneys or a chipped tooth.

The sea is an unforgiving mistress and water beds are a close relative.

So back to the original story.

I had a few years waiting for the first pube to sprout after getting my first water bed, then a few more waiting for a girl to appreciate the idea. There was then more time wasted waiting for my parents to not be at home and the girl to be in the right place, right mood and well you get the idea.

Fortunately I was young, flexible and had good balance. In no time at all I had mastered the bed and the novelty value of being the only boy with a queen sized water bed paid dividends.

Then the romance soured.

Girlfriend after girlfriend balked at the idea of a lifetime of water bed goodness. Despite an upgrade to a wave less model, like princesses of old the bed was too hard, too soft, too difficult to get out of or too scary to make love in. My attachment to my bed and resolve that I would find a woman that loved the water bed as much as me finally failed in about 2000 with my move to Melbourne.

With a tear and the exchange of cash, my bed went to a spotty teenager with a grin and sense of adventure. I knew I was selling him a bitter sweat pill but some things just have to be learnt the hard way.

Over time, the pain of the loss faded as I came to grips with a normal bed. The cold sheets and sweaty nights became the norm and she was forgotten. Relegated to the rose coloured memories of milk in bottles and near misses with fireworks.

Until recently.

The girl is tall and wears short skirts. She is a master of 3.5 inch heels and is as graceful dancing in them as she is just walking down the street. Her hair reaches her bum but looks as great up as it does down. Spilled over a pillow it is worthy of a photo shoot.

She is smart and has a wicked sense of the naughty. I thought she may be out of my league but I am always up for a challenge. A few dates in and I was back at her apartment with things going swimmingly when she got a serious look on her face.

"I have to warn you about something before we get to the bedroom..."

Oh fuck I thought...she's got the clap...or her period...I hope it is just her period.....

"My bed, is well, not normal. It can take some getting used to"

No...it can't be...."Different how?" I asked trying to hide my excitement.

"It moves..."

"Vibrates or ripples?" I asked, gently chewing on my lower lip in anticipation.

"Ripples....it can be a little tricky until you learn how to use it to your advantage."

"I think I love you...." I just blurted it out like an amateur, nearly blowing with excitement.

Needless to say it was like riding a bike. The bed, not her. She is like a freaking bronco but the bed is like an old friend.

To be honest I am yet to just slip into it and fall asleep without an hour or more of aerobics but I wake feeling more refreshed, happy and rested than I have in years.

I could almost put up with just about any nonsense from this girl for no other reason than that bed. It has me staying away from home at nights and driving an hour to work rather than the 5 minutes from my own house.

Crazy stuff this thing called love.

Short but sweet

The Christian has been fed to the lions so we are back to our regular programming.

It was my first break up via email which was right on par for her PDA scripted life. The weekend had gone swimmingly with dancing, dining and sexin without the sexin. If you know what I mean..

The wheels however started to fall of on Sunday morning right about the time she needed to be congregating.

The plan had been for her early departure to attend her church. This was obviously going to mess with my Sunday morning worship at the love cave but there are some sacrifices that need to be made right?

It was however going to give me a perfectly timed leave pass to go kite surfing. After all, it was blowing a freaking gale and despite the Arctic chill in the air it had been weeks since my last blast on the water.

The plans changed. It seemed that she had swapped a morning at church for some prerecorded sermons that she could listen to.

Now I am about as tolerant as they come but there are a few things that tick me off.

1) Changing the radio station in my car without invitation when you are a passenger.
2) Re-activating the Christian TV channel on my HD receiver
3) Talking about God as if he is in the room when I can clearly see that there is only the two of us here.
4) Any form of hypocrisy regarding your belief system.
5) Smelly people who can't dance.

This lady smelt nice and she is a great dancer so you can guess which 4 of the 5 she hit out on in our short time together.

With the sun starting to stream into the house and the rumble of motorbikes going for their Sunday morning sprint she announced she was getting up to listen to her sermons.

I thought about sorting myself out briefly but then figured that after her fill of God she may be feeling turned on so I would steady my hand for now. With that thought I rolled over and went straight back to sleep.

After another hour of sleep I awoke to hear the house filled with fire and brimstone. Some dude had written on the walls of Babylon and then someone else suggested it was the hand of God rather than some kids with too much time and paint on their hands.

I chuckled and thought of Monty Pythons "Life of Brian" then proceeded to put a pillow over my head to muffle my laughter and filter out the silliness coming out of my home theater system.

Emerging from the bedroom it quickly became apparent that my neighbors could probably hear the sermon too. Not very cool.

After politely declining the offer to join her on the couch to listen in, I suggested a lower volume might be more appropriate or maybe this really nice pair of Senheizer headphones even more so....

In knocking back the headphones there was only one other option to clear my head - fresh ground coffee. The buzz of the grinder gave me a full 30 seconds of aural insulation from His words coming out of my speakers. A moment later I made a second cup for no other reason than to use the grinder again.

Eventually she almost got the point but swapped the sermon from the mount for some good wholesome Christian radio instead. It was about now that I lost it.

Wishing to avoid a confrontation, I loaded my car with kite surfing gear and suggested that the party was over and it was time for me to pay homage to Poseidon and the Anemoi gods with a new and hip twist care of Mr Cabrinha.

We hooked up again later that afternoon for a bit of a dance and dinner but things were getting a little awkward. My lack of faith, or rather my adoration of false idols was obviously rubbing the wrong way a little.

Monday night and the email arrived with a cheery beep. There was more talk of the list, the need for children to be presented with a consistent view of the world from their parents and that she was sure that He would find her the right man.

The insinuation was of course that I was not that man.

Finally something we saw eye to eye on.

I replied in the affirmative that backing off was a great idea.

An interesting post script to all this is that we are both booked into a weekend of dancing in a few weeks time where we were to share a room. On further discussion as to how this was going to work she replied that the idea of a naughty weekend sounded like a lot of fun so we should not change any plans.

Brilliant, I suppose I can abide breaking of rule number 4 after all.

I'm going straight to hell..

Antagonising the deeply faithful seems to have become a wicked little past time of mine.

Now before I get onto the meat of this story I need to take confession. If that last line does not give it away, I am indeed by baptism a child of the Catholic church.

I had the dubious joy of attending a Catholic school and even spent a few early years of that time under the brutal rule of the "Brothers".

My time under the influence of the strap taught me two things in life. Firstly, I actually did more work when threatened with a solid beating and secondly the callous and malicious behavior of those representing their God on earth seems to be directly proportional to their level of faith in a God who, on face value to me at least, really does not give a shit or is also tending towards the masochistic.

It is also possible that He is rather poorly organised and hence the problems that should be fixed with a wave of the hand just keep getting put of until next week.

By now you probably understand that for me, faith in God is not really an option. It just does not compute for me as an individual, to believe that I am part of someone's giant ant farm play thing.

A religious education did nothing other than teach me that religion = control and wealth. I would not go so far as to say control of the weak minded but I do lean that way.

Don't even get me started on the mixing of religion and state...

So back to the fun stuff.

Every now and then on my search for a mate, I meet someone who's faith rules their life. For me this is like bad teeth are to Fanny or an unwashed butt crack to Phish. Pretty much a deal breaker.

The last one of these had beautiful olive skin, deep green eyes and curves in all the right places. She could talk the leg of a chair and seemed totally in touch with her sexuality as far as God willed it. It seemed that his will stopped short of sex before marriage which she proudly announced on our first date. We had met once before but circumstances had us get to know each other via the phone for about ten days before finally meeting again in the flesh.

The date was to be a meet and greet, some dancing and a chance to see if the initial connection was real or imagined. I have to admit that by this time I was already a little dubious as to how far all this might actually go. Our previous conversations had covered the level of her faith, her activity in her church and her feelings on the whole sex before marriage issue. All this was covered between graphic descriptions of how she was sorting herself out while thinking about all the other things you could do while not having sex.

On meeting in the street I was polite and went for a gentle kiss on the cheek. I closed my eyes for a moment too long and found a tongue in my mouth. Hello!

Over dinner she announced that as we were going to be out an about on a work night and her home was so far away, she had come prepared and had her clothes for the morning and a toothbrush for the night. She was going to stay at my place if that was ok.

Um, ok.

To be continued.....

Crazy world.

Here you go, a story to brighten your day...or not.

There is a lady I know, an attractive and interesting lady that I have been flirting with for some time. We laugh, we make jokes and we blush when we hold eye contact for just a little too long. We dance together like long lost lovers.

It is good fun but I have not taken it anywhere because I am a silly boy and I have been wary of breaking the spell. Flirting is fun and the anticipation of what may happen has been as much fun as the reality.

Recently we partnered up for a workshop on advanced dance moves and style. It was great fun. Afterwards we went to dinner, just the two of us. It was a little romantic and you could say, pretty well where this had been heading for some time, it was just a matter of one of us making a move.

While we were talking about stuff I got into asking the big questions that lead to where she was in her life at this time. She got married young, moved to Sydney with her husband, had two children, finished a uni degree, started a business and is very successful in all that she does.

So I asked the next obvious question, when did she split with her husband....an awkward silence followed.

"I haven't...." she said.

My head spun. I had not seen this coming. She was always out and about town with no sign of a husband and all the airs of a carefree and single life.

"Um, I have to ask, what on earth are you doing here having dinner at 11pm with me when you have 2 kids and a husband at home and everything to loose?". It was not my most tactful moment and the mouth/brain filter had totally burnt out from the shock.

She smiled and shrugged, "Good question, sorry I don't have an answer for you....I have never cheated on him, I never intended to..", she trailed off.

Over the next hour we talked it out, we laughed, we flirted some more. It was good fun if not a little awkward now that cards were on the table. We set the boundaries so that we both knew it would go no further but we could still play silly buggers on the dance floor and be friends. I sent her home to her family with her fidelity intact, physically at least.

But the question remains and burns bright in my head today, what is cheating, where is the line? As individuals in a relationship we need to have our own space and do our own things but at the same time if you are doing or thinking things that you would not want your partner to know about, have you then crossed the line? Is cheating only consummated when it turns physical and until then we are free to fantasize and flirt?

I have never been on this side of the line before, the potential to be other man. I actually don't like it very much. It feels dirty and cruel. Having been cuckold myself, I found I could not do it to this man, this unseen husband and father of her children.

I actually feel a little cheated myself because I was on the edge of opening myself up to someone only to find that there was a hell of a lot more than the normal baggage that we all carry.

C'est la vie. What a fucked up world it is some times eh?