I resently was asked by a friend who runs the blog urbandetective.blogspot.com to guest-post some reflections on the Sydney dating scene from a guy’s perspective. Happy to oblige I sat down to ponder my views a few years into the Sydney scene. This is what came out of it:
Just what is it in us (me) that is driving us to fuel this never-ending game of love and it’s associates; sex, dating, f-buddies and the like?
I guess an obvious answer can be found in Darwinian literature, but we sure endure a lot of pain hunting for the benefits Love supposedly brings, bravely taking on all the fuss and gossip and tears and anguish and heartbreaks and rejection that usually follow in the tracks of the able dater/dateress. All for what? The possibility of finding ‘The One’? Or at the very least some casual appreciation of our personality or looks, some external stimuli for our narcissist selves?
For quite some time now (counted in years) I have found myself watching the socialite orgy I dwell in and have been thrilled, disgusted, horny and bored, usually all at the same time. I have also loved, rejected and intrigued people around me, and been equally so by them. In hindsight, and with happiness as my primary goal in life, I can but acknowledge that the bulk of my sadness, pain and worries have stemmed from this quest for Love, cooked up by myself and a girl I have fallen for, with all of the above mentioned agonies as ingredients. It’s like I’m becoming a master-chef of agony, but maybe I just need to find better recipes, or maybe different ingredients.
To tell the truth, I can’t bring myself to care much about the game out there, even though I usually fail at not getting pulled in by it. I don’t like one-night stands (don’t mind a 12-night-stand though), I am more likely to laugh at a girl who’s playing hard to get than to get intrigued (occasional fail here too), and I love buying someone a drink – but my reason for doing so has never been to get into her pants (that goes for all you guys who I’ve bought drinks too). I have this idea that directing my mindset the other way might save me from an eternal imprisonment in the short-term dating game, and seriously; have anyone ever thought they would find true love at a nightclub in the Cross? Not really, no.
I have an issue with dating cultures like the one in our beloved city, which is: when I love, I love fully. This is somewhat a fundamental opposite to parallel dating, ‘keeping doors open’, holding back a little to see if anyone else might have a better offer than the current aficionado, or playing games to keep the other party chasing. It feels like this sort of behaviour is a fundamental part of the Sydney dating scene. What is this thing about constantly keeping a lookout for something else? Maybe we have become so good at finding (or creating?) those Fatal Flaws in people that we manage to keep ourselves on a never-ending quest for that perfect match, like a holy grail we put on a pedestal and make damn sure we can’t reach.
My questions to you, dear fellow readers of this blog, are these: Do Sydney ladies have males chasing them without having the ability or the will to ever be truly caught (with subsequent potential surrender)? (see Elephant Theory) And correspondingly, have Sydney gentlemen forgotten that the chase isn’t supposed to be the goal, the prize is? (Someone should write a piece on ‘chase-junkies’ both the male and female variant).
I must admit that I love being chased myself—my ego thrives on it—but is it only my experience (as a life-long serial monogamist), that Love (the real deal) always comes with a total lack of any chasing, gaming or maintaining of other options? It just stares you in the face and is there, no work needed, no chase necessary, the grass seems utterly green where you’re standing and it straight up disarms you, doesn’t it? How do you game someone you’re in love with? And by being in love I mean that place where you can’t get enough of someone and catch yourself walking down the street with a massive smile on your face for no other reason than the scent of her hair being stuck in your memory from the moment you kissed her goodbye this morning. When you’re there, there really is no reason to run, is there? Problem is, we all seem to be running so fast we fail to stop long enough and see those moments that would take us there. And when you do find such a moment in the constant blur of the social scene, I’m afraid the object of your desire is likely to be long gone from it, chasing the next one.
For now, I’ll have to rely on coincidence to put me in my next moment of disarming love, it’s worked well for me so far and I am sure it will again, but someone should suggest a better solution. Meanwhile, it’s Friday; the game is on; see you in the blur, maybe we’ll meet in one of those moments, or for a shag.