Essentially this man had lost his one chance at true love. Perhaps he didn’t realise that’s what it was in the moment that it happened, but in the hindsight of old age it seemed manifestly obvious. His lover was his only experience of love. Removed from his parents as a child and brought up by others, strangers, in a clinical unaffectionate way, he maintained he’d never been taught how to love another person or indeed himself.

I find it interesting that so many fishing analogies lend themselves to the language with which we address ideas relating to romantic love. We talk in terms of “the one that got away” (perhaps exaggerating the traits of the lover in the same way we might the traits of the fish), while reassuring ourselves that there are “plenty of fish in the sea.” And I think in some ways that is true – there are certainly a lot of people in the world. But that metaphor doesn’t really speak to the quality of the ‘fish’ and I wonder on some level if you can have many encounters with other people without finding a sincere connection.

And if that is true… what do we take from it? I know people who look upon dating as just another process. They might liken it to getting a job. You cast your net wide (erm, more fishing?) and see what happens. There’s a part of me that really thinks this is a terrible, deeply cynical idea, but other people swear by it. To them it’s a practical reality. And frankly how do you meet anyone without putting yourself out there in social situations?

I’m sure my thinking has been conditioned by a slew of romantic ballads, movies and television shows. Those romances that seem to surpass everything. It doesn’t seem to matter that those ballads are often sung by singers whose personal life is one grandiose (and highly publicised) trainwreck after another. It doesn’t seem to matter that the writers of many of those ballads were motivated more by their potential royalty cheque than adoration for any existing human being. Romeo and Juliet might be the greatest love story ever told for no better reason than the romance didn’t last long enough to meet the inevitable conflicts that occur in any relationship.

I don’t like feeling out of control and yet I’ve come to realise time and time again that I can’t control who I am attracted to. There’s a part of me that only wants to feel attracted to the right people. The people who are attracted in turn to me, who have some interest in me as a person, who are actually genuinely nice people. I’ve known people who have been quite horrified to know of my interest in them (and who were quite happy to vocalise this sentiment). I’ve known people who have used my feelings for them as emotional leaverage, manipulating me as they’d see fit. You just do stupid things in the presence of people who you are attracted to and who you might be in love with. You know they’re foolish when you’re doing them and at times you seem completely incapable of stopping yourself. If a confession is met with scorn, then take whatever foolishness factor you’ve been feeling and multiply it by a million. Then add two. No, really.

Then there is the relationship between sexiness and confidence. If you’re not feeling confident there’s a good chance you’re not exuding sexiness. Similarly sometimes people who are uber confident – perhaps overconfident – can seem really amazingly attractive. Even when they’re (let’s be frank) douches. Even when intellectually you know they are not nice people. Even when you suspect they drink kitten’s blood in their spare time and leave elderly people in the middle of busy highways.

Last night I was so bored that I logged into one of those awful dating websites. I had signed up more out of curiosity than anything else, and I check it out about once every six months. I was taken aback when a window popped up with a message from a local person saying something to the effect of, “Want to hook up? Ring this number.” I looked at that person’s profile and there was all this text explaining that they weren’t interested in anything except casual encounters. I was surprised by how little this appealed to me. ‘Hooking up’ with this person in particular, and ‘hooking up’ in general. I scoffed a little when (Australian Opposition Leader) Tony Abott suggested that a woman’s virginity was a gift that shouldn’t be given away lightly, and preferably not given away until marriage. But there is a part of me that really believes a sexual experience should be an expression of some emotional connection, ideally one of love. Infact in my mind if you’re just going through the experience solely for the sensation then… well a Madonna lyric (taken somewhat out of context) comes to mind: “You’ll do much better baby on your own.”

But all jokes aside, I wonder about this stuff. The differentiation between “IRL” (in real life) and Internet friendships. I wonder about the ties that bond and the ties that disintegrate into nothingness.

In truth the impetus for the trip was a romantic entanglement whose thread was so thin as to disintegrate long before it was even time to board a plane. But I decided to board that plane anyway. I wanted to put on a brave face. I wanted to see other people too. I wanted… a lot of things, I suppose. I don’t know what I was looking for but I know what I found.

There are the – at times, quite disembodied – sense of online selves. There are living, breathing people presented “in the flesh.” And then there are the entirely abstract ideas of friends and friendships. I wonder why I feel like I can be myself with some people and not with others. I wonder why sometimes thoughts manifest themselves as vocal noises and other times as words to be written or typed. I wonder why some thoughts and feelings are expressed easily and others I suppress with considerable effort.

I was disappointed and disillusioned that the romance fizzled. I was angry. I kept telling myself, “it’s okay.” But it didn’t feel okay. I kept telling myself that you can’t control who you have feelings for and who you don’t. I kept telling myself it was completely unreasonable to expect anyone to commit to a long distance relationship. And actually I believe these things are true and valid. But I still don’t appreciate being ignored for extended period of times. I didn’t appreciate being treated like yet another casual acquaintance. But I was scared to express any of these things. I was scared that if I gave my rage an outlet I had no idea where it would take me. And besides I wanted to match the indifference I was getting. I wanted to pretend I was okay. My pride felt like the only consolation I had left so I was determined to put on a good performance.

But my role in this facade was foolish. Even more foolish than I felt about the whole relationship, about coming to this city for something that wasn’t real. And if there is any ‘take home’ from this whole experience it is probably that all such falsehoods are foolish. From the big emotional ‘stuff’ to just not being yourself, not speaking your mind, in much less grandiose circumstances. It extends to putting yourself in situations where you know you won’t feel comfortable. It includes going against your own values to avoid ‘making waves.’ It is about anything that mutes your truth – whatever that may be – that propels fictions ahead of personal realities.

It’s late and this feels lofty and airy-fairy. But it’s all I have. So I’ll honour it on that level.

But that was then. This is now. It’s 2009 and I’m attempting to have a social life and a romantic existence. Of course I’m still completely out of my element and clueless as ever.

So I asked the people of the Internet for dating advice… It is interesting too because you start to get a feeling for what a large subject this is and how many different approaches there are to the practice.

One person suggested:

No sex until the third date… If there IS not sex on the third date, bail.

Another emphasised the importance of not talking too much and the value of listening. A third said to smile and pretend that you’re having a good time. The trick she explained was to notice when you were genuinely having a good time. Those were the people you need to see again. And of course many people dusted off that perennial piece of wisdom to ‘be yourself.’

Another person:

Have fun… remember it’s a date, not an engagement.

This is important in general and to me specifically. I am something of a hopeless romantic, I’ve been brought up on romantic fodder through movies and music and television and books. Companionship and commitment and other C words that will scare the casual observer are important to me. Sometimes I am blindsighted by just how important than are to me. Sometimes I forget that they aren’t as important to other people, that other people have different motivations and aspirations.

But if you project yourself too far into the future you do it at the cost of the present moment. That’s clearly not what this is about. You’ve got to enjoy the moment, enjoy the company and take this time to get to know yourself and the other person.

Do you have any dating tips? Seriously I need all the help I can get…

I guess I believe you can because I know people who lead amazingly interesting and rewarding lives. (I confess I frequently watch Sunday Arts with envy because it always showcases talented artists who are doing what they love and somehow deriving success and income from that…)

I know I’ve written about this in religious terms before (predestination versus free will), but I wanted to think about it more practically. I pulled out my notebook and wondered if I could have my life the way I wanted, what would that look like?

I identified the following desires:

• The desire to be creative. There are things I want to do and other things I want to do more frequently. And I want to learn, I want to study… I want supportive teachers and mentors.
• The desire to be social. I’m lonely. I think my trip to Brisbane made me appreciate just how lonely. I am connected with the world and I can have great conversations and exchange ideas with lots of people at any hour of the day or night, but I still have no one here I can grab a cup of coffee with.
• The desire for independence and freedom and distance. I don’t feel like I can be myself here. I am too busy fulfilling roles within different contexts.
• The desire of companionship. This differs from the social desire mentioned earlier in the sense that here I am referring an intimate companion, a lover, a partner…

There were a lot of other things on the notebook page too about scheduling (my Sunday afternoon coffee ritual, for example) and specific things I want (video camera, my own apartment).

I guess the next step is building towards those things… somehow.