It was time to get out again, and a half price offer on Speed Dating was tempting. Those who haven’t been initiated into this world may not know how many different themed nights are on offer. You can go to a food and wine lovers night (I don’t really qualify), curvy women (which I find a bit offensive), fit women (don’t want to create false expectations, or suddenly have to do hundreds of sit ups), toyboy dating (also a bit wrong…but more on that later). Something for everyone, or at least most.

After eliminating the above, the only night left was tall man dating. Perfect. A great chance to be totally shallow and frivolous, frock up, and wear big heels without worrying about short men complexes. After registering, the event date changed to the night before a 4am start, but I decided to not be a grandma, go anyway, and just take it easy on the endlessly free-flowing champers.

So about these tall men. While having 10 men to 12 women was promising, a quick scan of the room revealed that 7 of the 10 big friendly giants were my height or shorter, even without my patent heels. Not really what I would describe as “tall” (did they read the event name? or were they emergency last-minute free ring ins?) but the first champagne went straight to my head and forgiveness flowed through my veins.

I settled into my unromantic brightly lit perch right next to the ladies loo, with accompanying aromas, and the dates began. I met Mitch who had bought a house in Mitchelton “Get it, Mitch from Mitchelton? You’ll never forget me now! Mitch from Mitchelton! I didn’t want to buy a place in Gaythorne, get it!”, learnt about the “to die for” tourist attractions in Newcastle, discovered the meaning of the word teutonic (well I had to look it up later, I confess), and heard stories of a New Year’s Eve dinner at the top of the world trade centres while they were still standing. IT dudes revealed their musical other lives, including one who secretly played trombones (and owned 5 of them, including a plastic one?!), another played in big bands, which shocked his colleagues. 

All and all, cool and fun.

In the break, the girls checked each other out, compared notes on how often they went to the gym,  whether they had shaved their legs for the night, and how long they had taken to get ready to outshine the “competition”. Then I caught up on the buzz. A celebrity was here!  A (literally) huge star from the Brisbane Bullets!  Despite zero interest in sport, being alive in the early 90s in Brisbane when basketball fever was HUGE meant that I not only knew about the Bullets, but had even been to a game or two. Where was he? A brief scan over the heads of the mostly short men in the room quickly revealed two 6’7″ guys, one of whom looked like this. (I thought he deserved the “full size” setting.)

Ok, so he had more clothes on and it was now 2014, not 1994, but still. No way!  Back in the day, the Bullets were allowed to import two star international players, so along with Leapin Leroy, Mr. Moore had come from Chicago and stayed on in Brisbane. And here he was, live in the flesh, and dateable.

By the time I had my celebrity date it was the giggly end of the night and I was a total fawning groupie for my allocated seven minutes. After Mr. M set his Oroton man bag down on the table, we talked about basketball, jazz, African drumming, snow, and whether I had kids (he asked). We weren’t meant to be, but I enjoyed my time in the sun, and the hilarious text messages with my friends after. For the record, I have to say Mr. M is still looking mighty fine, all these years later.

If you believe what the Courier Mail has to say, Australia is suffering from a “man drought”. Apparently most girls look for guys fitting the “bad boy grunge”, “gym guys”,  “macho men” and “gentlemen”, and my favourite, “bush bogans” who spend their weekends crocodile wrestling and bull catching. If you’re in the 25-34 years category, there are apparently 1.3 million single women versus 86,000 straight, single men in the same age bracket who earn $60,000 a year. What that means for those of us over 34 I don’t know – and since when was earning $60,000+ a must-have in a partner, especially for those of us in the arts world?

The McCrindle reports show that times are tough along the East Coast, with Brisbane hit hard too. Spring Hill is listed as having an overabundance of single men, but I think most of them aren’t interested in girls

 My take on it is this. Guys in Brisbane at least don’t tend to go for the dating “activity” kind of nights organised by women. Chances are that if you go to a singles painting class, the only people that will turn up are single girls looking for single guys, even if there if plenty of wine is promised and guys pay $0 instead of the $50 that the girls have to cough up. True story.  That night the only men present were partnered up with the owners. There was zero flirting or distractions, so we all managed to produce a painting that vaguely looked like artwork, and even more incredible, kinda like Brisbane’s Story Bridge, which it was meant to.  Same story at a singles cooking night – women paid and were encouraged to scratch around to find a male friend who could come for free to boost the numbers.

For rotating dinners promising matched numbers of men and women, women have to book in fast. For any kind of “single volunteers” night, cooking for the hungry and homeless, the waiting list for charitably minded women seeking socially aware men will be long, while any males drifting past the building will be lured inside and eagerly snapped up. 

Are girls too eager? Making so much effort going to all these useless (and expensive) dating nights? Should there be more “Beer, football and babes” nights (although we might get ignored if the footy’s on). I could move to the NT or WA, or to some of those mining towns overfilled with crocodiles and bush bogans, but….  I’d rather wait for a metro type to leave the house. What happened to meeting people through friends of friends, like in the olden days? At the end of the day, a girl doesn’t need a flood of men, just one good one. 

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cassandra. After doing her time on internet dating sites and meeting men that really weren’t suitable, she decided to be explicit about her needs.

So on her profile, she rewrote her position criteria. She wanted to be with a man who was very specifically either an engineer or scientist, who worked in a government job, and wanted to live in a regional area. Lo and behold, a lovely man answered to the description. Cassandra booked a flight from Melbourne where she lived to meet him in Bundaberg, a town famous for its swamp, sugar cane fields, turtle nesting area near by, and Bundaberg Rum factory, complete with oversized rum bottle that tourists like to hug for photo shots. Her Dad was sceptical, and booked a return flight for her that afternoon, just in case. She ended up staying a week. Last time my friend heard from her, she was really happy. 

Unlike in fables, this story actually happened. I’m sure some of Cassandra’s friends might have quietly, or even not so quietly, thought that she was being picky.  If there is something you know you really need, isn’t there something to be said for being courageous enough to acknowledge that, even if it’s difficult, to wait for it to happen, even if that’s difficult too, then seize the moment when it happens?