Virtually Ideal Episode 1: Date or Die, Page 2

  Tuesday

  After sticking my artfully designed 'date or die' sign to the wall facing my bed, I spent the rest of the night dreaming of what else I could do to improve my life. In that wonderful state before sleep where all ideas shine bright like a welding flame, I devised the Laurie Master Plan. As I plotted out the goals, timelines, even motivational messages I would write myself, I could see it so clearly. The plan was the love child of an Officeworks store and the Sistine Chapel. I admit, looking back, I may have slipped over into sleep at some point. However, I stand by the general principle: the plan is organisation and creative genius rolled into one. And I have seven weeks to achieve it.

  So here I am, 9am Tuesday morning, ready to tackle Step One - Find a Boyfriend. Armed only with a coffee and a laptop, I start my reconnaissance mission of internet dating sites.

  Within a few minutes, I identify a strategic problem I'll have to solve before I can continue. Should I use a site aimed at Christians? My ideal man would have some faith, so it makes sense. However, the more I search these sites, the greater my feeling of despair grows. As much as I love God, it can't be denied that most Christians are weird. And these profiles are really, really Christian. They all love God and want a servant-hearted woman who loves God to raise a multitude of God-loving children. Personality appears to be optional.

  So I abandon the idea and decide secular is the best route. Go with the biggest and scrape off the scum, I say. Having more people on the site has to improve my odds of meeting someone, right?

  A quick Google search turns up some strong candidates. After I take out the ones that expect me to pay, I find a winner. Annoyingly, I have to sign up before it will let me browse, which involves choosing a user name. It's a big decision for 9am in the morning. Luckily, I'm a writer, and have coffee.

  A few minutes later, I'm contemplating taking out a missing persons' report for my brain. It has failed to respond to any of my calls for help. After finding 'Writergirl' taken, and even 'lamecallcentregirl' (who'da thought?), I'm now stuck. I really want to highlight the writer/literary aspect, mostly because it's the only thing I've got going. In despair, I start typing in 'write' while trying to think what I could add to that. The website then very helpfully suggests 'WritingTaco'. Seriously? 'Taco' is the word you'd add to the end of that? However, since I'm only here to check out the potential, I'll take it. If the site's any good, I'll change it later. But for now, Laurie Barker is ? WritingTaco.

  I tune out the Mexican theme song that has started playing in my head, and click the continue button. Next it wants me to answer a few questions about myself.

  Hmm ? I might skip that part.

  And that.

  Why would they need to know that?

  Just let me browse already!

  I skip a few more sections and finally get to the good bit: finding a guy. So, my search criteria. What I want in a guy. Defined. In a neat checklist ? Darn.

  Time for a fresh coffee.

  Wrapped in a throw rug, I waddle over to my kitchen. I like to think of my apartment as 'industrial chic'. It does sadden me that it's actually one of Mum and Dad's investment properties, which they only let me stay in out of pity. However, I'm a practical gal, and it's a heck of a lot nicer than anything I could afford.

  The large skylight windows open onto a rustic brick wall opposite and grey sky above. Granted, grey sky means cold, but it's stylishly cold. I've tried to soften up the kitchen area by installing an eco window-farm I heard about in a TED talk. The green of the plants goes well with the exposed brick and wooden bench tops. Checking on my little babies I come across a lone, ripe strawberry. Success. I chew on it while thinking about what I'm actually looking for in a man.

  As mentioned, Christian, I think. Haven't had too much luck with them recently, but trying to explain the whole no sex before marriage thing to a secular guy is a nightmare. Hugh, the one before my last boyfriend Steven, was kind, caring, sensitive, and said he totally didn't mind about the no sex thing. But then after three months suddenly he did. It's difficult for a relationship to move forward after that.

  But then there'd been Steven. We met at small group. It started off light between us, but finally developed into something more. Okay, I might've felt a twinge of pride that I'd been the one to land him, as quite a few others were trying. But I really did like him, the scumbag.

  We broke up six months ago after dating for about a year. Now he's engaged to someone else, and I've stopped going to that church, which is a pity because it was a good church.

  Anyway, Christian, probably.

  Education is a difficult one. I mean, I know a lot of tradies are sweet, have good incomes, and are great family men. But images of spending every evening talking about the latest in plumbing fixtures keep filling my head.

  The seeping cold around my ankles brings me out of my reveries. I snap a pod into my coffee machine and wait for the liquidy goodness to flow out. Man, it smells great. By the time I get back to the couch there's a message waiting for me on the dating site. I open it up. CareToDance has contacted me to say I should put up a photo because he'd like to know more about me.

  Just to clarify, by this stage I've filled in 0% of my profile other than the wonderful name 'WritingTaco'.

  I click on his profile. Surprisingly, he doesn't appear bad looking. First photo is a casual headshot which doesn't seem either drunk or at a strip-club. Then there's an action shot of him on a surf board (well I think it's him, could be anyone really), and another of him with a Border Collie. Now that's just cheating: putting cute dogs in your profile.

  His interests are surfing, playing fetch with his dog, and designing things. He's recently moved to Melbourne, and is looking for friends/possible relationships. No major red flags there.

  While I'm reading through this, the chat box jumps open.

  hey writingtaco you wanna talk?

  Wow, this guy seems a bit eager, or maybe he's just bored at work somewhere. It is a Tuesday after all.

  Hi CareToDance, what to write, what to write ? I'm just browsing at the moment. I sound like I've walked into a department store.

  are you new? what do you do?

  Starting with the tricky questions. Hmmm. You know, a bit of this, a bit of that. Worst line ever. Come on Laurie, pull it together. I actually work for a literary agent, and have a pile of manuscripts I should be reading. Now that sounds better.

  wow

  Pause. I might as well contribute something to the conversation. So, what do you do?

  a bit of this a bit of that

  I was right, that's a really unhelpful description.

  Well, what 'this' are you working on now?

  Right now Im thinking how much Id like to see a pic of you

  Is that dodging the question? And don't think I haven't noticed every missing apostrophe, full stop and capital. However, no judgement. Well, if you'll give me a moment ?

  I close the chat box and go back to my profile. Photos, what do I have? There was the one at Jess' wedding that should be up on Facebook. But does it look desperate if I put up a wedding photo? Nah, I'm sure no one can tell, and I have awesome hair. Though, I do have a double chin thing going. Oh well. I find it and upload it anyway.

  While I'm there I flit over to Tiff's page. There's the picture of me with Tiff and Yanie when we were at that new cocktail bar. It should be obvious which one is me. Though Yanie does look particularly cute and vulnerable, which lessens my appeal. But I'm used to that by now.

  Then there's that funny one with me and the emu. It's a few years ago now, but who's going to notice? So up they all go.

  Now to put in some words. This should be the easy part.

  'Self-Summary'.

  I take a sip of my coffee.

  I'm twenty-nine.

  Should I say my real age? Okay, delete that.

  I take another sip while staring at the screen. I put the cup down, fingers on the keys, ready for inspiration to strik
e. I tap my nails. I should probably cut them at some stage. Hmm, one has gotten chipped, probably from trying to open the childproof bottle of Panadol the other day. Stupid childproof bottles.

  Focus Laurie, focus. Okay, I'm just going to write out whatever comes to mind.

  Me, in a nutshell: I have two eyes, two ears, one nose, but strangely two mouths. Yeah, don't know where I was going with that. Delete.

  I work for a literary agent, and spend my days reading other people's awful writing. Then in the evenings I pay my bills by working in a call centre. Does that sound sad? Maybe I'll take out the part about the call centre. I love coffee, and write a blog on the hidden coffee places of Melbourne. Which no one reads, but they don't need to know that. I have a Bachelor of Arts and a Masters in Creative Writing. Biggest wastes of time and money ever. But moving on.

  After I finished uni I spent two years travelling around Europe drinking coffee and writing my first novel, which I'm pretty sure Amelia hasn't even bothered to read. I like to think of it as Eat, Pray, Love in the style of Dodie Smith, the author of I Capture The Castle.

  So, what else is there to know about me? Do I mention the Christian thing here, or leave it till later? It's probably enough to tick the box in the checklist: Christian, Anglican and somewhat serious about it. Should I say very serious about it? But then that might make me sound like one of those weird Christians who only listen to Christian music and live in communes. 'Somewhat serious' I think is a fair summary.

  The rest of the checklist is easy:

  Height - short. Sadly, there's no two ways about that.

  Build - I'm on the petite side, sort of.

  Eyes - brown.

  Hair - brown.

  Smoker - no.

  Drugs - no.

  Drinks - occasionally/socially. Really, compared to other people, I hardly drink at all.

  Education - Masters.

  Children - don't have kids, but want some. It might just be because Jess is currently pregnant, but I've become really clucky. Have you seen how cute baby outfits are these days? Anyway, back to task ?

  Status - single. Why would anyone say married? Actually, don't answer that.

  Final section: what am I looking for? Someone who isn't a serial killer or a sleaze. How can I say that in socially acceptable terms? Instead I write: Someone who loves reading and would like to explore the coffee treasures of Melbourne with me, which sounds pretty cool, if I do say so myself.

  I upload what I've saved so far.

  I feel I've made a positive step towards taking control of my life. Time to shower and get dressed.

  My bathroom is probably the worst part of my wonderful little apartment. For one, the door doesn't always latch properly, so has a habit of flying open when the air inside heats up. For another, it doesn't have a ventilation system, so no matter what I do, I always finish stepping out into a sauna, unless the door has flown open.

  I turn on the taps of my shower-over-cast-iron-bath - picturesque, but hurts like hell every time I stub my toe on its clawed feet. I wait for the room to start steaming up before I pull off my clothes and jump under the searing water. Oooo ? so good. When my skin is glowing red and the air is so thick with steam it's like breathing underwater, I steel myself to the task, turn off the water and in a quick movement am out of the tub and surrounded by a fluffy bath sheet. It's like a towel on steroids.

  I pull on my super warm grey tights and wool skirt with my favourite brown knee high boots and a navy jacket over a white top. Feeling like I blend in nicely with the weather outside, I get back to my computer.

  There's another message from CareToDance. I quickly check, but he's gone offline, so I can read the message without being ambushed. Is it bad I'm trying to avoid him already?

  you seem pretty cool. wanna meet up for coffee?

  I really feel I should know more about him before risking bodily harm. Hmm, should I ask if he's a mass murderer? Like the question on the US visa waiver form: 'Are you intending to commit a terrorist act?' I wonder how many people actually fall for that, 'Yes, I am. Soz.'

  In the end I reply I'm busy tonight - which is true, I have work. Though that raises another problem: I work nearly every night, and every other sane person works during the day. That doesn't leave many openings. Generally, I also have Friday nights off, but this week is the book launch.

  Arg, the book launch. Amelia will want me to bring a date.

  CareToDance at the book launch? No. I'm not taking a complete stranger to a work function.

  Time to call in my trusty backup. Pity I can't use him for the wedding.

  I pull out my phone and text Hadley, my twenty-seven year old brother who is a complete hipster, and way cooler than I'll ever be. Free Friday night and want to come to a book launch?

  His super gorgeous model/law student girlfriend is over in the U.S. at the moment, completing an internship in D.C. (I know!), so there's a chance he'll be free.

  A message pops up on the computer. Turns out CareToDance was offline but still checking his messages. what about thursday brunch?

  That works for me, but don't you have work?

  Im actually an entrepreneur so make my own hours.

  That does sound cool.

  My phone then buzzes. Just for you, Sis. What's the dress code?

  Black tie, with a 50's twist. I love my brother.

  Now my computer bings. These multiple forms of communication are getting confusing.

  so are we on?

  Why not. Thursday, brunch, you choose the place. I feel a person's choice of cafe reflects something about their nature.

  ill get back to you.

  It's sad, I know, but I immediately text Jess to tell her I might actually have a date. Since she became pregnant, she's been living vicariously through me. This is going to make her day. Unless her maternal instincts have kicked in and she worries I'll get killed. Can't please everyone.

  The other third of the Triumvirate of Awesome is Tiffany. She'll be busy with clients right now, but we're catching up on Saturday anyway.

  As I'm typing, my phone bings again. Not Hadley, but a voicemail. Argg, stupid solid brick warehouse! The reception in my place is horrendous so I often get voicemails that have never rung through. It's from Mum, inviting me over for dinner on Saturday to celebrate Yanie's engagement. Oops, in plotting to get a date I'd forgotten about the actual wedding. I also note that Mum sounds hesitant, which is curious, but she doesn't actually say anything strange before hanging up.

  I bring up my calendar to start typing this all in. Brunch with CareToDance on Thursday, followed by the book launch with Hadley and Timothy Farren on Friday. Better not forget brunch with Jess and Tiff on Saturday, then off to Mum and Dad's for dinner. When did I get a life?