Admirable.

A friend of mine seriously impressed me the other night...doesn't happen that often with my friends so I was pretty happy with the whole experience.

Sick of being in a relationship she couldn't see any future in, she called it what it was and ended it. Sure it might have taken a while to get there, but never is it 'too long'. Sometimes you need to get to that point of finality yourself, but when you do it's incredibly empowering.

Another friend ended a seven year relationship a couple of months back after finally realising the guy she was seeing was never going to propose and didn't seem to want anything more from her than he already had. No kids, no house together, nothing to plan for. So despite what must have absolute heartache, she also called him on it and threw him out of their house - or should I now say 'her' house. The first month was understandably hard, alone at home was an unusual and upsetting scenario she had not envisaged she would be in. Two months on she is a changed person. Empowered by taking control of her life, rather than just going along for the ride, she is determined, focussed and ready to move on. Admirable.

Al

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Dangerous Travel

I am not a huge risk taker, certainly not where my life is concerned. Sure I race a car from time to time out on a track, but I am completely in control and never go faster or push harder than the known bounds of my ability. So why is it that everytime I get in a cab I feel like I have just made a very foolish decision?

I cannot remember the last time I was in a cab where the driver was piloting the vehicle in a satisfactory manner. I am also unable to recall a time when the cab driver knew where he was going despite directions from the passenger(s) and completely in defiance of the sat nav's suggested route.

As someone who likes to develop in their job, I find it hard to understand how these people go about their employment with the most basic level of understanding possible. Granted many are migrants who are studying at night, but does this mean they should be allowed to perform their job negligently? If a crane oprator approached their job with same level of commitment they would be fired immediately - and they don't even take passengers! So why then do we allow taxi drivers to do the same??

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Equilibrium Of Hot

When I was in Year 8, I decided I wanted to be a porn star. What's so interesting about that I hear you ask? Well I saw nothing wrong with it either and felt so comfortable with it that I announced it my accounting class. Needless to say that at one of the top private schools in the state, renowned for delivering exceptional academic results every November, it was not received that well by staff and a flurry of concern ensued.

I did genuinely think it would be a great job. Work a few hours a day, hang out with hot guys and without a doubt in my mind I would be doing something I truly love!

I have often had discussions with my friends on how they would cope if they somehow manage to fall in love with a porn star...and when I say fall in love I mean the type that is reciprocated - not fantasizing whilst watching his latest offering (so to speak!) on DVD. I'm by no means the jealous type but I just don't think I could do it. The notion of someone else portraying what I consider to be the most intimate and personal act with your partner, would make me physically sick. Ironic it is that I couldn't date one but I could be one myself!

And so begs the question, if you want the hottest guy or girl out there, are you happy to take what may come with it? Every guy I have dated has been a model at some point and whilst I wouldn't consider myself a modeliser, there is no way in hell I am walking down the street with someone average. The last one started to become annoying when walking down the street as people would actually stop what they were doing to look at him. Novel at first, annoying after a few months.

The fine line between exceptional and high maintenance seems ever elusive...lucky I already found that equilibrium! Those who give up on finding it are easily identified - they are the ones who 'go for brains not looks'. Rough translation on this: I settled because I couldn't do any better!

Al

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1.5 People

So I am officially over fat people. Luckily I have never been under one, now that I think about that horrifying thought.

I spent $230 on a ticket for a seat at Mardi gras back in March, only to get to my seat and find that I couldn't sit there because a rotund lesbian who would interpret a 'Long mac' as a massive truck, not a coffee, was taking up not only her seat, but at least half of mine too.

This is becoming a more frequent situation I seem to face on the train coming to work. Fat people, little seats and not enough room for my perky butt.

In the ten years between 1985-1995, obesity in youths aged 7-17 tripled. The implications of this concerning statistic is being felt now. These youths are adults who now frequent my train! As the fattest nation in the world this is surely only going to get worse. So as the people get fatter, we are trying to squeeze more and more people into each carriage in the hope that one day the train operator might actually do something about it. I wonder if, were we to remove these mountains of unused energy from the trains, would there be room enough for the rest of us aboard our daily commute?

Al

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The Homophobic Gay Man

My PBF and I would chat regularly about potentials we had on the go. It was a well known fact within our circle of friends that he was the talker, I was the do-er (pardon the pun). He would regularly talk about various individuals where the potential for a relationship hadn't progressed over a six month period. I would have met and...well met, at least a few in that period of time.

PBF's current distraction, for want of a better expression, is nicknamed JJ. This nickname gets used regularly on the phone so PBF can provide with regular updates. So began the single sided love affair that became rather boring to listen to, rather quickly. JJ would ring up PBF and ask him to go out to a club, and so sooner would they be in the club, JJ would disappear for the night turning up at work the next day at lunchtime - if at all. Whilst not so clear to PBF, it's clear me that PBF is being used. JJ simple wants someone to walk in the door with because he doesn't have the confidence to do it alone!

The strangest thing about JJ is that he is not comfortable with gay people in general. Recently at PBF's house prior to venturing off to the favourite Sunday night club, JJ decided to join us. No sooner had be walked in the door, he had swiftly moved to the nearest girl and was chatting to her like he was trying to pick her up? What was he so afraid of? That the gay people who already know he is gay will see him talking to a man and suddenly remember he is gay and bash him up? Or worse still tell all his friends and family? It's such strange behaviour that I simple don't comprehend - be proud if yourself, get a life and start living it. Otherwise it will pass you by in the blink of an eye.

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My Mum

It's the simplest things sometimes about my mum that remind me so often of how much I love her. I'm in tucked up in bed right now trying to get an early night where I at least get to bed early even if I am laying here blogging!)

I'm firmly tucked up in bed under a nice new dooner my Mum bought me because she heard me complaining about the old one being too small. Despite these merely being grumblings from an over-tired man who was repeatedly losing the dooner war against his partner, she took note!

Days later I went to visit and there was a brand spanking new dooner sitting near the door ready for me to rush home and solve all by sleeping problems in one hit!

It's yet to be road tested but that's beside the point. I unashamedly admit that I am indeed a Mummies boy, and would not have it any other way!

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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