I don't understand.

I have a dance partner and a lover.

One was born about the time I finished school and knows none of my silly music, life or film references.

She has an eternity of growing up to do, none of which I want to carry her through.

She is slim and petite but almost too much so for my carnal tastes.

She lacks the self assured sexuality I desire despite being able to turn on just enough to make the judges happy. Especially the dirty old ones that enjoy rolling their eyes over her naked navel.

Meanwhile I give myself to my lover, expose myself to hurt and disappointment. I give her a key to my house where she can seek refuge and live in my space for a weekend, explore and find out who I am with out my censorship.

Watch my porn, read my books, check under every rock and behind every closed door to see who I am. I feel naked and probed but content that I can be so open about who I am.

A thousand kilometers distant we pour months of hard work onto the dance floor and are rewarded with results exceeding our honest expectations. The one person I wanted to share it with is not there and she is told this again and again.

Yet all this trust and love is met with jealous accusations. Twice in two weeks now.

We do spend an insane amount of time in each others company, generally in a close embrace with our sweat, blood and tears mixing. We finish each others sentences like and old married couple and could get an Olympic medal for long jump when it comes to crossing the line in our private jokes.

Yet we go home to the ones we love, know that we are not connected that way and never will be.

I need her to understand that or it will all end.

True Love

The plan was simple, dance until late, return to my place and snuggle the night away with a lazy sleep in.

Yes, it was a school night and the lazy sleep in was to be on a Friday morning but I am the boss so fuck off back to work and don't question why I am late ok?

As I gently woke from my slumber and peered through bleary eyes at the alarm clock there was a confused recognition that the numbers were much lower than they should have been. 0700? What is that all about? Where has my bed warmer run off to? What is it with female bladders and early morning toilet runs? Wonder if she is getting ready to surprise me in that way of ways? Hmmmmm, warm bed....sleepy.

"Fuck...Oh no...Fuck Fuck Fuck" she mutters from the bathroom.

Cold tiles? Splashed cold water on her self?

"You ok?"

"Nope...I am early!"

It is 7am, damn right you are early I think. Then the penny drops...the red dragon is in the house.

"So much better than being late!" I quip back.

"True, but I am not prepared. I am like clockwork and this is 24 hours early, I have nothing with me..."

I know what this means. This is that moment when I get to find out the most intimate details. The whole plugs or planks discussion, mini, maxi, regular, wings or installation thing-a-ma-jigs...

"Do you want me to run up the shops" I enquire pulling on shorts and a shirt. My sleep-in dashed on the rocks of a feminine hygiene product emergency.

The specifications are given and I depart to the nearest Coles looking every bit like a man just out of bed.

As I get out of the car I am reminded that in my haste to clothe myself I neglected to step into underpants. The reminder comes in the form of a light brush of drilled cotton shorts on the tip of my knob.

A head conversation ensues like so;

Penis: Morning!! (stretching out to greet the day)
Head: Oh damn...forgot about you...em, can we save the morning greeting for about 15 minutes?
Penis: What's happening?...hmm, like this fabric, makes me tingle (now rubbing against the inside of the shorts like a cat weaving between your legs when asking for attention)
Head: Hey! quit it. We are shopping for girly stuff, this is not the time to look aroused.
Penis: but I am aroused....look at ME! (springing to full salute)
Head: but I am not so back to sleep for a while ok?
Penis: Too late! Hey, did the check out chick just glance at me?
Head: Fuck I hope not...I must look like a total perve.
Penis: pretty sure she just saw me waving at her...
Head: I am going to beat you when we get out of here..
Penis: I love it when you talk dirty...
Head: NOT like that!
Penis: Too late, I am ready for what ever you can give me!

So there I am, with an unrestrained, attention seeking boner, be dazzled by a million colourful packets of pads and tampons and wanting to die. I make my selection and dash for the check out.

The name tag introduces her as Amy, she is as flustered and flushed in the cheeks as I am. There is a brief mental exchange between us where I exert my full jedi will on this young and impressionable mind...

Amy: Is that what I think it is???...
Me: Yep, you saw it and no I am not stealing a Salami..
Amy: Do I need to call security???..
Me: No, no need for security, this is not the boner you are looking for..
Amy: No, this is not the boner I am looking for..."$5.70 please.."

I pay and leave as fast as I can. Knob straining against my shorts as I trot to the car.

What a way to start the day.

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...

The way it always happens...

I have a mate who, along with his wife are Virgin Blue flight attendants. It is hilarious the antics they get up to and the fun they hare having.

Unfortunately I am in that age bracket that is probably too old for Virgin Blue and too young for Qantas.

Anyhow, having also worked for an airline in a different capacity in my deep dark past I had preconceived ideas about staff travel allowances. I had already lived through years of budging mates wanting to get cheap flights that I could not provide and all the shit associated with travelling standby.

The day I booked my first fully paid seat and turned up at the airport knowing I was actually leaving as planned, rather than waiting for some idiot to forget their passport or get stuck in traffic, was the second happiest day of my life. The happiest was when someone else paid for it and it was business class...

So while chatting with my mate about the similarity between Virgin Blue and Fresh!, he drops it that if I want to go anywhere to let him know so he can put me on his staff travel list.

The what the fuck you be talking about Willis????

I had just booked and paid for two trips to Melbourne and one to New Zealand and now the twat offers me staff travel on poon blue?

I was gutted for a moment or two until I realised what this means....Party time people. I have mates in Briz Vegas I am going to visit, chums in Melbourne that I will call on if it ever stops burning down there and maybe even a little bit of Island hopping to chase the wind.

Giddy up.

A new year and an old friend

Boxing day was every bit as much fun on the water as expected and many more afternoons like it followed.

With new years eve rapidly approaching and no firm plans in place I did the only thing I could think of doing and put in a booty call to water bed girl.

There was no commitment as she was trying to make something else happen. We agreed that there was a dance party to fall back on for the evening if needed.

So much like the days before, new years eve started with a massive kite surfing session. I had half my wardrobe in the car to allow for all eventualities and arrived at a mates place for a BBQ and kids fireworks viewing, salt encrusted and skin glowing pink from sun and wind. Much to the amusement of the guests that did not know me, I invited myself to use their shower and re-entered the party fresh as a daisy and much better groomed than 15 minutes beforehand.

With the last chicken skewer finished, the smell of cordite still in the air from the 9pm fireworks and the temptation to settle in for the night on cold beverages and good company, my host chased all the kids off to bed so the adults could take over the wii and Guitar Hero.

It was at this point that I realised two things. One was that as much as I love performing, I really have to be drunk to sing. I was not drunk so there was no way in the world I was picking up that mike. The second was that playing the drums in guitar hero is more fun than playing the guitar. I know guitarists get all the chicks and drummers are prone to vanishing in a puff of smoke if you are in Spinal Tap but it was brilliant fun and an as yet unknown talent was discovered. Even if I say so myself.

As much as I was enjoying this I was surrounded by couples that were very set in their couple like ways. There was drinking and laughing but there was not going to be any sex and even the few single mums in the crowd were in man hating mode. It was obvious that as much as I was good mates with them, rolling drunk and playing guitar hero was not how I wanted to ring in 2009

Around 11pm the expected beep of the phone confirmed that all other plans had not worked out for water bed girl with the simple statement "Going to DP. Don't want to be alone tonight.."

Now, call me opportunistic but I finished up my set, threw the drum sticks into the cheering crowd, pushed passed the groupies signing bare chests as I went. Once in the safety of my car, I started the cross town dash to a guaranteed liaison of the skin on skin kind.

In a moment of panic I realised that I may have been a bit wishful in my thinking to get right into the heart of Five Dock in the last 40 minutes of new years eve but I managed to negotiate all the closed roads with little traffic and even got a parking spot in time for a few dances before the clock struck 12.

Waiting in her glass slippers like Cinderella was water bed girl with that mixed look of joy knowing what was on the menu to start 2009 and a little sadness that neither of us were really spending the night with the person we wanted to be.

Despite that, we put the negative thoughts behind us and I was again left with that smile that waking in a water bed puts on my face.

Christmas continued..

Yet again my enthusiasm for Christmas was failing fast.

Cracks in my relationship with LTL were tearing open faster than the San Andreas Fault in 1906. Arguing over stupid shit like my choice of tree left me dazed.

Christmas eve continued into an ever increasing whirlpool of negative vibes.

Her failure to succeed in cooking some exotic rice based desert somehow became my fault despite me having no input what so ever. For all intensive purposes it looked like rice pudding but was done in some complicated way to ensure a less than edible outcome.

With a kitchen smelling of burnt condensed milk and rice it was time to exchange gifts as that is what you do next to a spruce tree on Christmas eve in her country. Fair enough, we can play that game. Pity about the lack of spruce tree.

Again I got it all wrong. Unbeknownst to me, her take on Christmas is giving lots of individually wrapped little presents. Failure to do so is punished with the quivering lip of disappointment and misty eyed dribble about how the Douche understood how to do Christmas properly. My gift was well received but it felt that the fact that there was only one of them was looked down upon.

It probably did not help that on receiving gift number 53, a calendar full of photos of cats in the same vein as "I can has Cheezburger" that I might have suggested that a single purchase of a Playstation 3 would have fit in better with the existing decor and used less trees in wrapping paper.

Sadly, joking that I would buy my own PS3 in the boxing day sales sparked a debate over the proper spending of funds - A PS3 was frivolous and not the best use of my cash I was told. You can imagine how well that sat with me.

On that note, Christmas eve ended with an early night, some lack lustre sex and me day dreaming about kite surfing or dancing on another part of the planet.

Christmas morning dawned with the news that she was not coming to our family gathering. Wow - more surprises I thought. Christmas is just so much fun!

Would she still be here when I got back from lunch? What about all our plans for the holidays etc. Were they still on?

She did not know the answers to any of the obvious questions and with that cloud hanging over me I went to hang out with family and cop a million awkward questions while I sat at the table with an empty setting beside me.

Thankfully my younger brother and girlfriend were about to produce grand child number two so my inability to produce a girlfriend for Christmas lunch was overshadowed by my inability to breed with one too.

On the drive home I finally gave in to my dark thoughts and quietly hoped she was gone from my house when I got back. Sadly, she was still packing to leave.

I had decided on the drive home that I was not doing another relationship with a girl from far away lands that was going to turn around one day and want to go home. I did not need a girl who despite meeting every other criteria I thought I wanted, would drive me nuts with a love of cats, Christmas and directing my spending habits.

With a wave she was gone from my life.

Boxing day and the sales arrived. I did the rounds of the game stores, JB hi-fi and David Jones. After some haggling I secured a shiny new PS3 with some games and Blueray movies. No sooner did I have it plugged in and the phone rang.

"Wind is building up man...time to hit the beach" the voice on the other end nearly screamed at me. "Is the girly going to come too?"
"What girl? we split yesterday.."
"Awesome. The next few days are going to be pumping. You are better of without a hand brake!"

As much as I was sad, I had to agree. She hated the beach and thought my obsession with kite surfing was silly. I had been looking forward to the plans we had made but really, what the hell had I been thinking? It was going to be blowing 25 knots for days.

To be continued...

An interruption to regular programming

It is that time of year. The heat wave that ravaged South Australia and Victoria is creeping up towards Sydney and it is making life a challenge.

In the middle of all the heat I am trying to rehearse three dance routines and learn a whole heap of West Coast Swing from a couple of amazing dancers from California.

To say things are a little insane right now is an understatement.

I have danced every single night in two or more weeks and have probably averaged about three hours sleep on each.

The legs are weary and I have had to punch a new hole in my belt buckle to keep my shorts on.

Dealing with romance is not a priority right now although that is not to say that the mischief is not continuing in spades. I just don't have time to write it all up.

Currently I am keeping my fingers crossed for Saturday night. Not only do I have the final of a competition to dance in but two other performances to do.

All of that with the following list of lady friends in the audience; one fuck buddy, two ex-lovers, two girls I am considering dating, a third I would sleep with in a heart beat but know would be a disaster to date.

Mean while all my attention will be on my hot little dance partner for most of the night then I am taking another girl back to my place so she can sleep in the spare room as we are just mates...honest!

Wish me luck and expect a good volume of blog fodder and confusion for all concerned.