Love vs. Location

I grew up in what many would call an unusual family. We were never the
family if 2.3 children and a brick veneer home. From a wealthy bayside
suburb where all the footy players now seem to reside, we moved to a
wealthy country area and then back into one of the most sort after
suburbs if the time. Redefining the term 'cosmopolitan living', it
mixed bayside living with close proximity to pretty much every
conceivable need one could have. Moments from the CBD, it was right on
the water and seemlessly mixed what is now a benchmark for cafe
culture in Melbourne. For me none of this seemed out of the ordinary.
After all, wasn't this how everyone lived?

So begged the question: What was the point of living out in the
suburbs? I never got it, I have to say. I concluded from my own
thinking that perhaps people liked the lifestyle of days gone by. Of
having kids and letting them play with the neighbour's kids, popping
next door for a cup of sugar...that sort of thing. From what I could
gather, this had to be the attraction. People wanting to live like
it's 1950 and pretend the 'stranger danger' was not a reality, but
that their child was perfectly safe down the street with little Timmy
Jones.

So, perplexed by the value the outer suburbs held, the time came for
me to move out. There were not really many options I could see I had,
or more to the point - needed. A large contingent of friends in a
concentrated area also happened to be the location for the types of
places I was going out and so it made sense to live there. An inner
city suburb rich in cafe culture, it was sporting a vast array of
clothing shops only a latte or two away. I settled into my new
location easily and was immediately comfortable calling it home! I
also managed to plug a geographical gap in a line of friends that
would lead straight to our preferred club, meaning that if the first
one decided they were going out, they would collect the rest of us
along the way...the final stop being the aforementioned PBF.

It was not until very recently that I was given a new perspective on
why people might live in these outer suburbs I hear so much about -
yet know so little. The new romantic interest lives in one such suburb
and is building another house close by. He alerted me to the notion
that perhaps people could not afford to live any closer to the CBD.
What? Who were these people and where did they come from? Was this
common I wondered? Where did these people work? Or shop? Or drink
latte even? It all seemed so alien to me - like noticing for the first
time a tree you have driven past hundreds of times.

This ignorance soon came to an abrupt end when the subject of me
moving into the soon-to-be-built home in the outer suburb came up. 'Of
course I would consider' I said, unaware of what I was potentially
signing up for. So where does one start in researching life in the
'burbs? And would I even survive if I was to make such a bold
geographical move? All are questions I need answers to before I shoot
my mouth off again...

And so the question begs, what sacrifices will you make to ensure your
relationship remains intact? Would I go crazy in an outer suburb
filled with growing families and screaming kids? Would I develop a
complex living in such a suburb knowing full well that the majority of
people surrounding me would probably read the 'wrong' paper (if they
read one at all). Would I be surrounded by criminals a parent had
potentially sentenced to lengthy jail terms?! All of this for love?!
Suddenly love seems a bit dangerous!

Al

The past and the future

I have recently been married off and so my PBF and I have been
spending far less time together. 'What's a PBF?' I hear you ask. Good
question.

My friend and I had long been suspected of having it off by one friend
in particular. Both of us had just come out of relationships and
shared a number of interests which meant it was seamless a friendship.
Despite the ease with which we spent every conscious moment with each
other there was never (on either person's agenda) the notion of taking
the relationship anywhere outside of a friendship. And so people
talked whilst we laughed at the idea - unable to conceive how ANYONE
could see the other in such a light. It had all the trimmings of a
sibling relationship.

One day such a friend (of both of ours) made a remark about bringing
my 'pseudo-boyfriend' along to a yet another party. I was a bit
shocked. My pseudo-boyfriend? Was this another term for a +1? Or was
this something more? After further investigation it appeared to be
more than just a +1. It was in fact more of a boyfriend without the
physical gratuities that came with such a title. And so our pseudo
relationship began, without us ever consciously knowing it had even
begun.

When you think about it, maybe that's how they have to start? Someone
else has to inform you that you appear to be in a relationship and
thus you have just acquired a PBF. And while you're single and having
fun what harm can it do? You always have someone to go out with, you
never need to make the 'plus-one-calls' at the eleventh hour looking
for someone to go to a mediocre party with. It's kind of like the f**k
buddy but in reverse, and the same rule applies: don't mistake it for
more than it is and it will work just fine for both of you.

Al

The search for the perfect...house

With MD leaving me with one hell of a benchmark to emulate, I'm left
to ponder what I will 'blog' about.

Talking to Deb today I decided it best to start from today, with MD
having captured at least some of the past.

And so my first topic open for discussion, and ironically one quite
similar to MD:

At dinner on Friday night with a close friend, his current house guest
of two weeks was telling us about her move from Sydney and, more
pertinent to this story, her failed attempts at finding a place to
settle in Melbourne. Looking online, she had had very little luck: a
great house was spoiled by a weird housemate and vice versa. One
particular woman had a bird that sat on her shoulder. It was however
one particular response to her ad caught her attention. In his late
thirties, he owned a penthouse in a bayside suburb and worked as an
airline pilot. On paper he was the ideal catch, even as a housemate he
would be ideal in his prolonged absence!

And so we began to talk about where the line exists between finding a
house and finding a husband. Given the rigorous questionnaire that
this girl had filled out, the online matching service had matched her
with potential housemates with remarkable accuracy. Was this the
perfect dating service? Can love follow if you have already sorted out
whether the toilet seat is up or down? After all, living together is
potentially the hardest hurdle to overcome. Maybe it's advice the
single should heed, get off RSVP and get on realestate.com!

Number One

So a fellow blogger suggested that I was giving her so much material in her own blog that there had been calls for me to start my own...weird, given the kind of stories I often have seem miles apart from the kind of people I thought would read her blog. And yet here I am, starting my own blog at her prompting.

thanks Miss Diarist...hopefully I provide your loyal readers (can you call them fans on a blog I wonder) with plenty of amusement.

Al