I HATE cryptic posts. You know when people write “Worst day ever” or some such shit on their Facebook. Tell us a story, even a tiny story, or fuck off. Don’t fish for comments and concern.

So I’ll just say you never, ever know what’s around the corner. Sometimes stuff happens that even baffles a cranky old cynic like me.

Something that makes me think “really life, really…you had this up your sleeve? you cheeky minx”.

Don’t ask. You’ll be the first to know.

As you were.

I loved Girls. Sure it gave me the shits at times and Hannah was a pain in the ass but Lena Dunham got it right much more than she got it wrong in her writing and characterization, for my money.

I came across this quote from the show in my FB memories feed the other day and it prompted me to write this post, based on thoughts percolating in my brain for a while now.

What do I want in a man? I certainly think I know what I don’t want. In the past my attempts at getting what I want have earned me the “control freak” tag but I think in hindsight I tend to step in to try and control situations when no one else will or where I feel a void.

Like with most things in life there is a balancing act in relationships: one person’s needs are balanced against the other’s. I understand that no relationship is perfect and no two people are perfectly compatible at all times and in all situations. But having been in a few relationships with incompatible people I still believe that something close to the ideal is possible.

So the below is really a wishlist based on best case scenario. The apex of what my ideal partner would be. (Many years of research have gone into this list.)

1) Be a fully formed human with thoughts, ideas, interests, friends of their own. I’m happy to share mine and get to know yours but I won’t be filling your voids.

2) Be interested in the world. Bring something to the table. Even if we don’t agree, have a damn opinion.

3) Be interested in your own life and what goes on around you. I need a man that’s alert but not alarmed. Hobbies, interests, passions… I need to see some joie de fucking vivre.

4) The thought of living with a man right now makes me twitchy but should such a miracle occur I need a man with a rocket up his ass (not sexually, though I’m willing to negotiate). I’m talking about a man who is actively involved in his household. Shock! Horror! Nothing for dinner? Make something. Bathroom needs cleaning? Clean it. I’m capable. I’m hardworking. But I’m not a damn maid. Nothing kills the romance faster than coming home to Darrin Stephens (if you don’t know the ref look it up). I don’t want to get your fucking pipe and slippers and heat up your meatloaf dinner.

5) Look alive. It’s soul destroying being with someone who makes no effort to talk or be involved when entertaining or out with friends. We don’t have to madly love each other’s friends but FFS make an effort, show some vital signs.

I was going to write ten neat points but it seams there is a theme here. I want someone alive and kicking. I truly feel I’ve spent a lot of my life pushing grown up men through life and I never want to do that again. It may be mercenary but I want something resembling an equal: financially, intellectually, socially.

I want someone to cook and eat with; watch and listen to stuff with and then have a robust discussion about the stuff; someone to rely on; someone who’ll bring me a coffee in bed. I want banter and laughs and sex and being in the trenches together. I don’t think I’ve ever had a true partnership but I’ve come close, I’ve had it for brief moments, and those moments were sweet.

[Extra brownie points for loving – or at least knowing of – Frank Turner – and thinking Deadpool is bloody awesome. Liking tattoos, doughnuts and cocktails in rooftop bars would be handy also.]

The kids and I spent New Year’s Eve at home. Just hanging out. I was looking forward to the ABC’s NYE concert from the Opera House forecourt because there was the promise of Tim Minchin, a very favourite human.

We sat through some fairly decent entertainment (though Kimbra frightened us somewhat) and then Tim came on which made me happy and made the kids roll their eyes because they seriously can’t understand the obsession attraction.

Better still Tim was soon joined by another fave, Ben Folds, who performed one of my dearly loved songs (see above), sadly without the brilliant Regina Spektor.

This song is a bloody beauty. Some relationship truths in a catchy, sing-a-long (I like to shout-a-long) ditty. Which got me thinking…

Since I’ve been on hols these past two weeks my mind has occasionally wondered to the cesspool I like to call dating. I can’t explain it. I’m happy, I’m content, I’m busy. There’s nothing missing from my life but still, during a quiet moment, the annoying little bastard in my head starts to whisper…what if, maybe you should, blah blah.

When that shitty voices pipes up and I start to think about the process of dating I shudder. The idea of scrolling through the profiles: the inevitable photos where the ex (or quite possibly current) wife/girlfriend has quite obviously been chopped out of the photo but is still partially visible; the giant fish photo; the wanky car photo; the photos where the care factor is zero in terms of attitude and presentation. Then there’s the 50+ year old men with 25-35 as their target age group. The 50+ year old men who either have very young children or are still keen to have children. Sigh.

Quite obviously I’m not ready to do this shit again but even the idea of going through the process and then trying to get to know anyone again fills me with COLD HARD DREAD.

To be honest I’m filled with doubt at my own ability to truly know someone. I’ve failed at that throughout my entire adult life. How do I allow myself to try again when it’s self evident that it’s close to impossible to really know anyone?

This song is so on the money. Do we really just project what we want onto our partners and then are shocked/disappointed when that’s not who they are? I suspect it’s at least partially true.