Oh, The French Intellectual! More Internet Shennanigans.

Listen carefully.

It's the sound of me crying in despair! Sob.

Yes gentle reader, The French Intellectual was GORGEOUS, interesting, funny, intelligent, thoughtful, ecologically aware ... and just not that into me. Damn. Oh, and did I mention that he was also tall? Oh o.k, he doesn't have a car or drink alcohol, but nobody is perfect.

It all seemed to go so well too, and I was already smitten by his incredible power with words. He wrote the most AMAZING things when we were in cyber-space, really funny scenarios, his humour second to none. He should be script-writing or something, the way he wrote had me hooked. I had decided he could even be ugly and I would look past it. Imagine how I felt when he walked in looking like someone pretending to be a nerd, but not being able to hide his full lips and fine bone structure.

It's like Clark Kent wearing glasses. Silly. Everyone can see you're Superman.

To make matters worse (for me), he had thoughtfully done this amazing thing. I had joked that I wanted him to make me feel the ages 14, 22, 33 and 40 throughout the evening. He made up four beautifully labelled bags for each age, and each one contained a different kind of sweet correlating to that age. I know! No one has ever done anything like that for me before. It was like something in a movie.

There will be some good reason why TFI didn't sweep me into his arms . He might have impotence problems or be really scared of the fact that I don't listen to classical music. I might have resented always picking him up in my car, and feeling judged every time I had a nice glass of pinos gris.

Whatever the case, ma petit fromage, you were certainly a fine creature and I will miss not ever knowing you. Sobbing ceases. Cut to the way the light is pouring through the window and the cat sits looking all bunchy and furry on the bed.

Fuck my hands are cold. Winter has arrived in NZ. Beware of French Intellectuals, they will not keep you warm, but boy do they know how to write.

Possible Love In Cyberspace: Candice goes fishing

My oh my, Internet Dating seems to have upgraded since I was last on it!

I've been marinating in positive vibes and joyful expectations when it comes to men, I think that has made all the difference.

Last week I had three dates (one was a sympathy date, something I don't recommend) and it was all very interesting.

The Sympathy Date:

You KNOW there won't be any chemistry but you feel like you're judging them (which is baaaaaaaad). You go and spend some time talking with them in romantic setting ... feeling like you're with an older and less charming version of your Uncle Barry. At the end he doesn't even buy you your glass of wine. Fuck, what a stingy arse. Said he was 50, looks 60.

The Highly Sexual Spanish Man:

He has liquid eyes, rampant eyebrows that suggest hours of fun in the bedroom, a job that involves brains, pays for dinner on the first date ... and then proceeds to get his hands up your top and into your pants as he's kissing you good night. This man is the Electric Eel of dating, phew, hard to resist once you've been bitten, but it's all so full on! Tumeke bro!

The HSSM was so articulate, intelligent, sweet and affectionate ... but yeah, it was just ruined by his excessive need to put my hand on his hard-on. All the time. On the second date, in his car, things just got a bit too steamy and I felt like I was losing respect for him (because he sure wasn't listening to me). One more date gave me what I needed. In line for the movies he wrapped his arms around me and said "oh, you are for me forever!" and was also wanting to know how much longer I would stay on Internet dating. Yadda yadda.

In the movies, even before the lights were low, he got a hard on (as usual) and got my hand and encouraged me to give it a nice old rub through the straining material of his too-tight jeans. Ugh, just let me watch the movie. Yes, I'm horny too, but this is just a bit silly.

After the movie he walked ahead of me, and bingo, there it was, the sign I needed. A man who strides ahead of you, who suddenly withdraws affection, he's fucking with you, even if he doesn't mean to. I dont' need that. I don't care if you're a cute 30 year old Spanish big dicked darling, you better think of walking beside me on the way back to the car. That's the real foreplay. The next day I let him know didn't see myself committing. Not to him.

The Arrogant Man

Oh this one was great fun. Really enjoyed how rude he was, fascinating, like being in a documentary. He dressed well, but not too well, not like the Spanish Heat (who wore things that looked very gay to me but evidently is just 'European').

The A Man wore the heavy air of one who is jaded by life, he kept looking around the bar, glancing at his watch, possibly thinking of finding a hoop for me to jump through. Alas, none were available, he probably used up his hoop supply on the last woman he was with.

He let me know he was hungover, that he'd spent the previous night with a woman in Papakura (oh that's polite, you are completely spent after fucking and drinking and you're letting me know!). I didn't bat an eyelid.

I was too nice, kept talking, meow meow meow. Eventually the watch glancing got to be silly and I said

"Arrogant Man (not his real name), you CAN go if you want. You're looking at your watch, and you're obviously not feeling it, so if you want to go, then go."

Oh, he was a bit surprised, no, he was having fine time (if only he'd remembered the hoops).

Anyway, he was a guy who liked to argue, compete, attack, look down his nose ... if I were more of a masochist (like about a year and a half ago) then I might have fallen in love on the spot.

He was into witchcraft which could have been cool, only he thought it was best assisted by drugs "because if you've got them why wouldn't you?"

Er, I can think of a lot of reasons. like drug induced schizophrenia, coming down, the cost, the bullshit, the legality ... oh there, that'll do won't it? I didn't even argue it, there was no point.

Despite this, it all ended nicely, with a gentle kiss. He said he wanted to see me again, but he was off to a Goth Party that night, and I like to imagine he met his Perfect Girl there ... about 24, a dog tattoo on her arm, a needle in the other, and Aleister Crowley on her bookshelf.

Wait there's more ....

tonight I meet the Intellectual!!! I'm very excited. :)

Being Home in NZ! It's all good baby. June.

Picture: with Sarah on her mum's deck, Waiheke Island, New Zealand, Summer 2011.

So many things about being back in New Zealand are as good as I hoped, or better. There have been numerous challenges, but because I'm always looking to what's positive or good, these challenges haven't put me in the Hole.

Lately I've been keeping a Manifestation Booklet. It's a pretty little thing where I write down what I want, taking note of the date. When it happens, I write down the date too, so that I can see how often I create what I say I want. Sometimes it's things like wanting to sleep better (that comes and goes), or it might be getting a good job ... which I did!

I'm working as a contracter for Sadler and Associates as a Literacy tutor, and I am absolutely rapt. I like all the other staff I've met, I feel like I've finally found the job of my dreams. I get to make a difference and work for myself, and if I'm careful, I should be able to save enough to travel at the end of the year. Cousin Claire is off to Vietnam to teach, so I could visit her. I'd like mum to come too, get her out into the world.

My new flatting situation is amazing. When I walked in, I knew I was home. Tenika is one of those people who you feel like you've always known, she's warm, relaxed, funny and kind. She also has great taste in decor and clothes. Her 14 year old son is cool, although he's definitely getting into his grumpy teenage phase. Makes me think of the 90's Harry Enfield sketch of Kevin the Teenager.

It feels incredible to have all my dreams coming true. I love my life. It's fucking fantastic. I get to drink good coffee everyday, sleep in a comfortable (brand new mattress) bed, wear beautiful clothes, see wonderful friends, date hot men (findsomeone, thankyou) and sit in the peace of my being.

It's a good place to be. I'm home.