According to MX, the free paper given out to commuters in Brisbane, there’s only 200 000 eligible men that a woman can date in this city. This is apparently disastrous news. I read this some months ago and this weekend, as I pondered my life during the thunderstorm drive from hell, it just occurred to me that this seems quite opposite to the reality of dating in Brisbane.
This “statistic” is meant to drive fear into the hearts of single ladies everywhere. I’m not sure for what purpose other than to drive up purchases of cats, thereby increasing the number of pet registration fees to the municipal Council, enabling said Council to start paying back it’s 2011/2013 flood catastrophe debts. Or it’s because newspapers have no new ideas. I can’t decide which. Either way, the media has happily coined a term for this: man drought.
As much as I feel assured of the validity of the anthropological experts MX almost certainly utilised and their scientifically defensible calculation of this statistic, I have to, respectfully, disagree.
In the years that I have been dating, I’ve encountered the following Gentleman Callers (isn’t encountered a lovely euphemism that totally protects the delicate sensibilities of my relatives?):
- IT nerds – seriously there are so many of these guys around. And they give you free IT/entertainment/downloadey stuff.
- Drummers (don’t even bother. Seriously. Don’t argue with me. No, you can’t pin one down. Just – just – shut up and Just. Don’t.)
- One unemployed guy with “investments” (as my ever supportive friend said at the time, hopefully, “Don’t worry, Jess, he has investments.” God bless this friend).
- A project manager (with some seriously foppish hair. I later found out he was taking hair medication, providing my friends and I with endless hilarity. And yes, I was snooping through his drawers at the time. Ok, I’m not arguing that there’s no drought on eligible women).
- An army guy
- Carpenters. And really, any other tradie. There’s so many of them. I don’t understand why I don’t have custom-made bookshelves yet?
- Cricket players
- Graphic designers
These are just the ones I’ve met and had a date with; not including the ones who I’ve met and run a mile from (but, you know, one woman’s trash is another woman’s…you know).
These men are simply frickin everywhere. In fact, it’s overwhelming. I think the real reason people stay single is because we’re actually spoiled for choice. My dear friend summed it up thus for me recently:
*Me: I should go on a date. I have a few options.
*Friend: You should! Which one do you like?
*Me: I don’t know. I don’t know. All of them. None of them. I CAN’T CHOOSE! I’ll just forget it.
*Friend: This is just like that ad on TV, where the guy goes down to his local shop to get milk and when he arrives, there’s a million different kinds.
*Me: That’s so true!
*Friend: You thought you knew what you wanted, but when you get there, there’s too many types to choose from.
*Me: I know!
*Friend: If the shopkeeper hadn’t chosen for him, that guy would have gone home with no milk, and a headache.
*Me: But I don’t have a shopkeeper to advise me on which milk to choose.
*Friend: Does it really matter, Jessica? You just want milk.**
Yep. Women are too picky. I’m putting it out there. You want milk? Just pick one and take it home***.
**Funnily enough, we went to actually buy milk the very next day, which went like this:
- Friend picks up a bottle of milk.
- Me: Are you sure you want that one? What about this one? Or –
- Friend: No. *walks to counter to pay*.
She is not single.
***By home, I mean on a date, Mum and Dad.