I am no stranger to attending awkward lunch dates. It’s been a staple of my life ever since I tried my hand at finding a worthy enough partner on Hinge. But in a bid to keep pushing myself outside my comfort zone, I agreed to a combined Lunar New Year and Valentine’s Day event at a suburban RSL where its main clientele seemed to be the old grannies from the local retirement village or families with nothing better to do.
In fact, if I’m being brutally honest, the RSL looked quite abysmally rundown. There was no glitz and glamour like the ones in my usual area. And it certainly wasn’t one I’d wish to attend on a regular basis unless I was on my death bed.
For non-Australians reading this post, RSL stands for the Returned and Services League of Australia. It is an independent support organisation for people who have served or are serving in the Australian Defence Force. More importantly, they have many clubs around the country to provide a venue for current and ex-serve personnel to enjoy a safe and comfortable place to share a meal or drink.
Depending on which suburb you go to they can be well-polished, filled with all manner of entertainment – mostly poker machines – while others look like they’ll be swallowed up the tides of time. The one I attended? Very much in the latter.
Despite my initial reservations, I pushed forward.
After all, I’d already paid $20 to reserve a spot. I couldn’t let it go to waste.
So, after meeting a key selection of other young hopefuls also looking to make connections and possibly match with them, I tried my best to converse with the others. Of course, being more taciturn, it became far more natural for me to sit and observe the proceedings between those who had arrived earlier.
I learned a few interesting facts from each: one of the men had migrated to Australia from Singapore, the woman sitting to his right (my left) was a country girl who had been to numerous cities before settling in Sydney with her family, and the woman sitting to his left (my right) had attended the event with her mother. Seated to my right was a man working in HR for a not-for-profit. On his other side was a woman who was currently at NSW Health.
All of them had vaguely interesting stories to tell. Yet instead of sharing them with the group, they had broken up into smaller pairings to converse.
Overall, it meant it was harder to find a point to jump in. All of them were sequestered in their own silos and I was outsider peering in through the window.
Worse, the man on my left always seemed to have his attention further down the table towards the older guests. While I did try to draw him out for a conversation, it would always end up falling a little flat.
The forced style of the event meant much of the conversations were stilted, relying primarily on small talk to get to know each other. To say it was a bore is putting it mildly. And I remember glancing at my watch wondering when it would be polite to abscond from the event and head home.
I suppose it didn’t help that sitting at the far end, away from the other attendees, it felt like our small group were treated as the ‘kids.’ Or, at the very least, the ‘young ones.’ Just because I’m in my 30s doesn’t mean I always have something to discuss with my fellow contemporaries. As my dating history has shown, not many people my own age, or younger, are equally mature or have an intellectual bent to draw out my curiosity.
Conversation flowed easier after lunch, which we were all required to order separately at the RSL bistro. My order was grilled barramundi with seasonal vegetables and mashed potatoes. A fairly decent and substantial meal given the other options on the menu, and one I dug into with gusto when it was finally ready.
While I could try to add some additional details to the rather lacklustre event, I don’t think I could summon the words. After finishing my lunch, I kept one eye constantly on the time. Once it passed 1:30, I was out of my seat (mostly because I needed to pee after downing my orange juice furiously before ordering lunch because while I was sure no-one would roofie me at an event in broad daylight, I didn’t want to risk the possibility). The others did ask if I was leaving and I told them a half-truth (though I’m sure most would interpret it as a lie).
Suffice it to say, I did not return to my seat afterwards. Instead, after paying a visit to the toilet, I bade goodbye to the host and slipped away.
And so I brought an end to the sham once and for all to seek the comfort of my video games and the sanctity of my home. I mean, if we’re being completely and absolutely honest here, even though I think Cloud Strife is a bit of a limp noodle with absolutely no real charisma to speak of (besides how adorkable he can be sometimes), he’s still a leg up from those at the lunch. Besides, he’s ex-SOLDIER and could probably cleave me in two with one swipe of the Buster Sword.
Now, dear reader, I can almost hear you ask if I’ll attend any further of these events. And while I cannot completely rule them out, it’s doubtful I’ll put my hand up in the near future.
Falling in love with complete strangers is not really in my wheelhouse. Sure, I do get the occasional squish but it’s rare and few between. Especially when fanfiction can get me hot and bothered when I do fall for a fictional character from a book, TV show, movie or video game.
I mean, if all else fails, there’s always AI! Or I can get a pet!
As an aside, getting a dog looks better and better with each passing year.
It seems passingly strange to have my first post of 2025 to be the ending of something that had been going so well in terms of engagement. Yet, like most cases, it ended on a whimper rather than a bang. Dear reader, I would have loved to inform you that Kyndaris Tries Dating 2.0 resulted in me finding a partner. Someone who was kind, intelligent and had a decent job. Someone who ticked all the requisite boxes on paper and who sent a thrill down my spine every time I looked at them. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Trying out the dating scene for nigh on two years has given me some perspective of other people. It has let me meet a range of personalities I might not have encountered. From the neurodivergent to man-children and everything in between.
Heck, I even managed to go on a few dates with women! Although, yes, they petered out swiftly. Keyleth, in fact, told me that they simply didn’t feel a romantic vibe during our first outing – which, honestly, would have been difficult considering I am asexual and they were demisexual (I’m still wondering how they arrived at such a quick conclusion. Surely it takes more than one date to determine if you might have the inklings of romance, right? But given they’d been in a few relationships before, maybe they had more experience in knowing if it would eventuate?).
I suppose at time of writing, there is still Dikottir. While he did float the idea of attending D20 Tavern in December, nothing has been set in stone. Worse, I can’t rightly say if we might go on further ‘dates’ or if they’ll simply turn into catch-ups as we indulge our shared nerdy interests. Despite my best attempts, I don’t feel anything particularly romantic with him (and believe me, I’ve tried).
Maybe if this was a Harry Potter Marriage Law fanfiction, it might work out? I’d be a Halfblood and he, the Pureblood. We’d marry out of convenience to satisfy the requirements of the Ministry of Magic’s latest bid to preserve magic. Then we’d enjoy our current lives except it’ll be in a cohabitated space. We’ll tolerate each other’s hobbies, with possibly separate rooms. Then, at meal times, come together to discuss some interesting tidbit of history or politics, before diving back into our respective rooms.
There might not be romance or a spark, but it certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.
But, of course, I digress.
After all, I can’t rightly say if Dikottir is all that interested in me or if he’s hoping for a little bit more spice. Before I deleted Hinge, I checked his profile again and noticed he had updated a few of his pictures. So, it’s clear he’s still trying to see other people. Whether or not he’s been successful, I couldn’t say.
And the thought of him finding the love of his life who is someone other than me?
If I’m being honest, it doesn’t bother me one bit.
I mean, I was also going on other dates and testing the waters with other folks of various genders.
Dikottir and I never said we wanted this tenuous connection between the two of us to go any further. We certainly weren’t exclusive. And I’d hardly call what we had a relationship, or even a situationship. We were two strangers who didn’t mind each other’s company but we hadn’t yet found the secret ingredient to take it further.
Were I to be generous, I’d call us friends. Acquaintances, if I was feeling less so.
Dating, I’ve come to learn, is a difficult landscape to navigate. Especially for individuals with my proclivities. But I won’t say I regretted the experience.
Rather, I’ve come to know what it is that I don’t want. Those who can’t carry a conversation to save their lives, those who see relationships in a transactional sense, and people who call friends or colleagues ‘normies.’
More than that, my dating adventures have even helped some of my friends who read this humble blog of mine to wade out on the apps and find their potential forever partners. An old work colleague of mine, after breaking up with their partner of one year, returned to the apps! Then there’s a friend who met a range of different potentials, including one in Canada, before seemingly settling for a go-with-the-flow golden retriever boyfriend.
Still, there are a few lessons I’d like to impart:
Being in a relationship with another person is a minefield – whether it be romantic, platonic or something else. You hope you say the right thing at the right time and don’t stick your foot where it doesn’t belong. But if you’re there for them, they’ll be there for you (the good ones, at least). The key to any relationship is developing a decent rapport and being able to joke and take the piss if needed.
Finding love is hard. Sharing your time and your space with them can be even harder.
Listen. I can’t stress how important it is to listen to people and to give them the chance to voice their truths. So many of my dates couldn’t help but make the dates all about them and their interests. There is no connection, on my part at least, if all you do is do 90% of the talking.
Good relationships should never be seen as transactional. Nor should anyone feel like they’re being interviewed.
Go watch the Half of It. One of the best quotes about love can be found there: “Love isn’t patient and kind and humble, love is messy and horrible and selfish and… bold. It’s not finding your perfect half, it’s the trying and reaching and failing. Love is being willing to ruin your good painting for the chance at a great one.”
I like to think throughout this journey, I’ve been striving to find love. While I’ve reached and failed, it’s hard to say if it’ll always be the case. Although I’m no longer on the apps, I still want to be open to any possible opportunities that may come knocking on my door.
After all, there are many who say love comes when it’s least expected. So, here’s to getting through 2025 and seeing what it may bring me. At least none of my dates turned out to be serial killers, though! Yay me!
P.S. The one downside of no longer going on dates is that between all the games I play, I now need to think up new topics and interesting topics to write about.
Having skipped PAX AUS in 2023 due to a host of new responsibilities and no friends wishing to accompany me on the pilgrimage down to Melbourne, I was adamant to head down once more to see what the fuss was all about for the 20th anniversary of PAX AUS in 2024. It helped that there were more big name publishers on the show floor than 2022. Although, truth be told, it was probably because I’d committed myself early by purchasing a three-day badge for the possibility of a bigger and better PAX AUS than the one I was greeted with during my first time.
Spoiler alert: While I feel like PAX Aus does have its perks, it simply isn’t very enjoyable as a solo traveller. Should I go again, I will, most assuredly, have to bully bleachpanda to come down with me. Or have my meetups with friends be on separate days so I can have sufficient time to hang out with them all.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sure, dear reader, you want the nitty gritty details. A proper story as you read this on your phone, sitting on the toilet or where have you.
And so I shall oblige by returning to the beginning of my four-day adventure down to the city of Melbourne, Australia.
I woke up early on a sunny Thursday morning. My luggage was mostly packed and I was eager to see to head down to the domestic terminal for my very short flight down to the state of Victoria. After going through my daily ablutions, as well as breakfast, I was buzzing with excitement.
Although my flight was slated for 11 AM, I was ready to head to the airport early. After all, I needed to check-in and bring my suitcase to the baggage drop area. These I completed in quick succession once I arrived. And, within moments, I was through security.
With more than two hours to go before my flight, I wandered through the terminal, buying myself a hot chocolate and a Halloween-themed Krispy Kreme donut. Then it was off to the pharmacy to purchase some Panadol and first-aid stuff should anything untoward happen on the trip (nothing did). After scanning the shelves of the airport shelves for what books they might have, I headed to the gate to enjoy my donut and to wait for boarding.
What I had not quite expected was for Dikottir to also show up for the exact same flight.
Yes, I knew he would be attending PAX and that he would also be flying down on the Thursday, but I had not anticipated it would be on the same Virgin flight (although, to be fair, my flight was initially with Rex but in June this year, it went into administration and I had to scramble for a replacement. Thankfully, Virgin was there to pick up the open slots and I was able to secure my spot without having to pay anything additional). So, we sat at the airport (a veritable meet cute) and chatted about his recent trip to Seoul. He showed me a few of the pictures he had taken, including the food he had eaten, as we waited for our flight.
Unfortunately for us, our flight was delayed due to a fault detected on the vessel. For an additional hour, we sat at the gate, waiting. There was even a moment when we feared the flight had changed gates but this was merely because one of the staff had closed the door and the airport system had automatically updated the details.
It was several minutes past noon before our flight took to the skies.
After it had landed and we had retrieved our luggage, it was roughly 2 PM. Given the fact our respective accommodations were close by, we took the SkyBus from the airport towards the centre of Melbourne. Along the way, we chatted about his many concerns regarding the AirBnB he had booked (including the fact the original owners had sold the property, the desperation to search for a replacement, the suspicious dealings of having to check-in prior to staying and a slew of other issues). In many ways, it was like catching up with a friend.
Once we had reached Southern Cross Station, the two of us parted. He to his AirBnB (which he would later be trapped in due to someone setting the rubbish chute on fire), and I to the Hotel Indigo (located on the corner of Flinders Lane and Spencer Street, and within spitting distance of the Melbourne Convention Centre across the bridge of the Yarra River).
By the time I had checked in, it was twenty minutes past three and I was starving. However, because I’d arranged to meet up with an old work friend, I staved it off with a roll of sushi, along with some cheese and crackers. After we had scouted out the Big W in the city centre (in preparation for his trip the next day), the two of us enjoyed some Chinese xiao long bao and pan-friend dumplings.
And so my first day in Melbourne came to an end.
The second day, and the first proper day of PAX, had me rise at around 7:20 AM. Worried I was running late, I scoffed down my breakfast at the hotel, dropping a cut of bacon and some scrambled egg on the ground, and legged it to the Convention Centre. After waiting a few minutes, Sorrengail arrived looking quite cold in her t-shirt and cardigan. Realising that the showroom floor wouldn’t open until 10, we decided to head to a local cafe. Sorrengail picked up a Portuguese tart as well as soy latte, while I enjoyed my go-to drink: the hot chocolate.
Then it was off to PAX proper where we tried out a few of the indie games, caught up with her game developer work colleagues (yes, I actually have a friend in game development), attended separate panels and essentially kept myself glued to her side. There was only one brief diversion to meet up with mrsarmageddon to hand off her Mimikyu t-shirt (a gift I’d picked up at SMASH earlier in the year) before I had to leave Sorrengail behind and meet up with Dikottir for dinner.
Of course, by then, I’d also accumulated a few other purchases (including Metaphor: ReFantazio and a yumcha inspired board game called Steam Up). Given I’d left PAX fairly early, I went back to my hotel to offload it all before hurrying over to Big Esso by Mabu Mabu at Federation Square. A proclaimed foodie, Dikottir had been eyeing the Indigenous restaurant for quite some time. After much hewing and hawing, we picked the three course meal and were treated to a smorgasbord of food: Terpa (oysters), island damper, cassava and native thyme rosti, charred kodal (crocodile) tongue skewer, usar (kangaroo) tartare, kami (emu) steak, kiamikiam cauliflower…and even some dessert!
Overall, the food was great and I got to enjoy some truly different flavours. Of course, the kangaroo tartare was also served with mirki salsa verde. As such, Dikottir got to witness firsthand my inability to handle spice (something which, no doubt) amused him to no end.
After dinner, the two of us headed back to the convention centre. While I hoped to catch one last panel (Video Games and Radio Stars: The Big Ol’ Game Music Quiz Showwith hosts: Meena Shamaly and Gemma Driscoll), he was headed to see a friend speedrun through Balatro.
The second day of PAX saw me attend two panels: CTRL + Empower: Navigating the Gaming Matrix as Women and So You Want to be a Voice Actor. Between the panels, I mostly wandered the showroom floor aimlessly – primarily intent on purchasing some merchandise to make the trip a little bit more memorable (and to see if I couldn’t buy a few presents – either for myself or for friends). In the end, I walked away with even more Disney Lorcana cards that I’m not entirely sure want to do with, a Grunt plushie and a strange burrito creature that, by the time this blog post goes up, I’ll have hopefully foisted on bleachpanda.
After my last panel, I vacillated between heading to the nearby DFO to purchase a pair of new jeans or to try my hand at getting a Moogle pin at the Final Fantasy XIV area. In the end, my desire for a Moogle pin won out. Though the line was capped, two people immediately left and I was able to enter.
An hour or so later, I was the owner of a new Moogle pin! One I wasn’t sure if I should gift to bleachpanda or another friend, mizutina, come her birthday). It will, more than likely, have gone to mizutina for something a little more unique than yet another figurine she can purchase).
With evening fast approaching, I returned once more to Hotel Indigo to offload all of my purchases and to await dinner with an old high school friend. Given my busy schedule of panel attendance and making the most of the time I had to wander around the show floor, I had not eaten lunch. By 7:30 PM, I was starving.
Thankfully, my friend arrived right on time (a feat she thought impossible given her proclivity for time blindness) and we enjoyed some Japanese food for dinner. Afterwards, we headed for dessert – demolishing a huge kakigori with aplomb.
The third day, and last day of PAX (although it would be my fourth day in Melbourne overall), saw me try out several of the indies on display, and catching a glimpse of a furry wedding at a Cult of the Lamb themed section of the convention centre before abandoning the show altogether to buy myself a new pair of jeans (along with a pair of chinos) at the nearby DFO on the Southbank. Without anyone to keep me at PAX, I headed into Melbourne proper, stopping at Critical Hit and Minotaur Entertainment for possible pop-culture or game related purchases.
There was little to catch my eye, so I chose, instead, to cap off my trip to Melbourne with a showing of SIX: The Musical at the Comedy Theatre. Getting to witness the original cast on stage, and film the Megasix, was probably my greatest highlight of the trip given the unapologetic message of the show, as well as the vibrant energy of the performances.
It was certainly better than most of the panels I attended, which, while informative and their own brand of fun, did seem a little ‘mid.’ Not saying Mark Meer pulling off a Joker impression alongside Abubakar Salim was mid, but most of the time, it just felt like people had put up boring slideshows to talk at us.
Speaking of Abubakar Salim, on my flight home to Sydney, I swear he was on my flight! When I arrived at my gate, he was sat quite close to the Virgin counter dressed in a black jumper and blue jeans (the outfit he had been wearing on Saturday when I attended a panel he participated on). But, like the coward I was, I didn’t approach him. Instead, I used the wait time at the gate to get through more of Ace Attorney Investigations Collection, and slyly spy on the man in my peripheral vision.
All in all, PAX AUS 2024 wasn’t the grand outing I had hoped it would be. It was a bustling convention, true, with plenty to do, but given I had attended the event once again on my lonesome, it failed to carry the spark I was looking for. They do say third time’s the charm with these kinds of events and I’m willing to go again. But perhaps with a friend who can keep my company, it won’t seem so maudlin. So, bleachpanda, I hope you’re prepared!
I’ll even pay for all of your expenses!
That being said, if it fails to live up to my expectations for the third time, I might just call it quits and simply enjoy the time traipsing around Melbourne here at home, with all my nerdy memorabilia close at hand. After all, I have my games and books and even the musicals I want to see right in Sydney (except for Beetlejuice, which will apparently be showing in Melbourne May 2025. Drats).
While you, dear reader, may initially think this post is about Travis Baldree’s novel of the same name, I am here to quickly disabuse you of that notion. In fact, I shall do you one better and admit I have yet to even read the book sitting on my shelf, begging to be read. Heck, I even bought the prequel not too long ago: Bookshops and Bonedust. And before you say anything, dear reader, I will get to it.
Eventually.
It just so happens my blog is not solely a book blog. Nor am I a BookTuber/ Booktoker by day or by night. So, you know, it’s very understandable why I’ve not read through this, assumedly masterpiece of a tale. Plus, I also have a lot of other hobbies like badminton, videogames and my own actual writing. All of which detract from my reading time.
Then, of course, there’s my dating life, which, albeit is slowing down because I’ve mostly given up on men. And well, the women are certainly not biting as often.
What’s a 32-year-old supposed to do except pine for the love of a fictional character? Karlach, I’m looking at you for when I finally start playing Baldur’s Gate 3.
As you’ve no doubt picked up on, this blog is yet another entry into my forays of dating. This time round, I met up with a woman (third time’s the charm, maybe? We’re still chatting on the occasion although the topic has shifted into more a creative enterprise). It started with her liking one of my Hinge prompts, and after thoroughly checking her profile (she had actually cropped up in a few of my recommends previously), I thought I would do her the courtesy of matching.
It was followed by a brief conversation on mythology before the two of us went down the tabletop role-playing game route where we both tried, and failed, at playing grifters stealing personal information. Now we’re on a journey to stop the Goblin King. The dastardly creature has stolen her identity, leaving naught but an empty vault of where it should be. And because of that, I, the handsome rogue in this situation, must continue masquerading as a Nigerian Prince as we go forth to acquire a magical sword with the ability to track goblins.
So far, we’ve made it to a small town called Bree. Although we did try to ride towards Bag’s End, a number of black riders passed us by and Keyleth – the codename I’ve decided to use in this instance to refer to my date – was insistent we put a stop to their evil plans. Not that we know they’re evil.
They simply have business with a halfling and are being very difficult about anyone who might be in their way.
As you can see, dear reader, we are most assuredly not in Kansas anymore.
That said, we did arrange to meet at a cafe halfway between where we live in what is fittingly named The Shire for Sydneysiders like me. It should be noted that unlike me, Keyleth does not live in Sydney. Rather, she is situated in the coastal city of Wollongong. You’ll remember it as a place I visited not too long ago with a group of friends as we tackled a dastardly difficult escape room.
At the time, though, Keyleth’s path and mine had not yet crossed. A shame, truly, since there are quite a few choice burger places in Wollongong we could potentially visit if I didn’t mind the long drive down.
The cafe was named 7th Heaven. To my dismay, there was no raven-haired bartender or a blond courier. What it did have were a number of brunch options such as my go-to meal in almost every situation: Eggs Benedict with a side of smoked salmon. Keyleth ordered a milkshake and Eggs on Toast, adding on top of it a rasher or two of bacon and some delectable avocado.
By the end, though, she’d barely touched it – having eaten only one piece of bread and egg, some bacon and hardly any of the avocado.
Keyleth was the first to arrive – most probably due to the limited number of trains and because she had further to travel. I arrived just shy of the appointed time at 10. When I arrived, I had not quite expected the shock of dyed red hair to greet me. After all, in all her previous photos – both on Hinge and on Whatsapp – Keyleth had sported long blonde hair.
Still, she was keen to give me a hug, though I was quick to advise I wasn’t much of a hugger. Or even a physical touch kinda gal. Yes, I’m more willing to accept it from a woman but it’s not something I tend to do. And it’s certainly not one of my key love languages.
Once I had sat down, we chatted idly about how our week had gone. After putting in our order, we began the painstaking process of learning a little more of the other. Keyleth learned I was an only child, whereas I learned she had a sister. Some of our family dynamics were talked about before we moved to more dangerous topics: like my favourite musical and whether or not I am actually a theatre kid (spoiler alert, I am not. Yes, I’ve been to four musicals in the last four months but those are baby numbers compared to the actual musical nerds out there. Or so I hope).
We also chatted about the weird role-playing experience unfolding on our messages, with Keyleth confirming the Goblin King was none other than David Bowie from Labyrinth.
Then, of course, we also talked a little about our dating experiences. Given I was asexual and she was demisexual, it seemed prudent for us to address the very big elephant in the room of what an actual relationship would be like. Both of us were a little uneasy about jumping immediately jumping into relationships as we required time to get to know the people we would be committing a significant portion of time with. Lust is certainly not a thing either of us experienced at first sight. And in order to catch feels, a strong emotional connection must be created first.
I, certainly, have not been in an actual relationship of significance with another. At least in the romantic sense. I do like to think I have many meaningful friendships with the people in my life though it’s anyone’s guess if they agree. More than likely, they find me egregious or too sardonic for their tastes (in fact, I recently had a nineteen-year-old university student at my work place call me epigrammatic!)
We also bonded over how difficult it was to date cisgender men!
But while the conversation was invigorating, our brunch date did slowly come to an end. Given the immediate surroundings didn’t have any other interesting diversion, we paid for our meals and headed back to the local train station. A little unfortunate but sometimes that is how the cookie crumbles.
After all, it would be the height of rudeness to remain at a table for several hours afterwards when all our food was taken away.
Will there be another date with Keyleth? I’m not quite sure. Our conversations were pretty easy-going, flowing from one topic to another.
It was certainly better than the date I had with Tip Top.
As always, time will tell if anything will come of it, but I’m hopeful in obtaining a new friend if nothing romantic blossoms from the encounter. Of course, there is still Dikottir.
And while we haven’t exactly had a sixth date/ meet-up, both of us will have gone to PAX in Melbourne by the time this blog post goes up. So, keep your eyes peeled for that riveting entry. Or not.
In the words of the founder of feminism himself, Rhysand, “It’s your choice, Feyre darling.”
As an aside, I can’t say for sure if that’s an actual quote from the book but it certainly feels like something he would say. On that note, I need to stop reading books like ACOTAR. I mean, it’s no Fourth Wing, so I’m glad for that. But it’s definitely not the height of fantasy literature. I was hoping for.
Anyways, THIS WAS ANOTHER EPISODE OF DATING 2.0! WILL A ROSE BE FINALLY AWARDED TO A SUITABLE SUITOR? YOU’LL HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL WE COME BACK FOR THE NEXT UPDATE!
Growing up, I’ve always hated how toys were divided between boys and girls. Especially given the limited number of things that were acceptable for girls to play with while boys would have multiple aisles filled with fun things like Lego, science experiments and action figures. Even back then, I hadn’t much liked how interests could be so rigidly divded.
Nor did I like being relegated to wearing frumpy school dresses when part of the uniform was a shirt and shorts. In fact, it was a point of contention back in primary school with my mother. During one of the school photos, she had demanded I wear the dress rather than what I was comfortable with.
It should come as no surprise that I was considered a ‘tomboy’ in school.
But though films and movies would have you believe I’d finally figure out the secrets of make-up and try to dress to impress in order to snag myself a man by the time I hit university, this never happened. Putting on make-up forever remains a mystery. Yes, I understand it’s socially expected that I be patting on a layer of foundation and giving my lips a touch of rouge, but it just feels completely antithetical to who I am as a person.
Why are women expected to powder themselves up to appeal to the not as fair sex? Why do we need to shave our legs and armpits? More than that, why was it fine for me to run around shirtless when I was a child but not socially acceptable now that my mammary glands have developed?
If women can’t free the nip, and it’s considered crass if the nodules can be seen through the shirt, then I’m voting for men to do the same. I don’t need to men nips peeking through their thin shirts. Nor do I want to see their rolls of fat as they take their shirts off during a run. Especially if women can’t do the same without it being seen as unseemly.
As the years have gone by and new labels have appeared, I did wonder if my antipathy towards gender stereotypes painted me as non-binary. I, certainly, wasn’t the image of the typical woman with typical feminine interests and hobbies. But the more I thought on why such a label was required, the more I pushed against it.
The whole idea of the divide between ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ simply didn’t make sense. And by choosing to be non-binary, I was also conforming to the idea that because I wasn’t feminine enough, I had to straddle the line between the two. Even though I’d come to terms with the fact I’d never have a flat enough chest, and suffer through monthly bouts of menstruating (I also wanted to be taller and skinnier, but let’s not go into beauty standards on this post).
Why couldn’t I be who I was – a woman who liked video games, books and horses?
And though the idea of whether I might be trans did cross my mind, the years of being mistaken for a boy because of my unisex name further solidified my gender identity for me – but also because I didn’t have significant body dysmorphia leading me to severe distress in terms of the body I had (although being more athletic and capable of doing backflips would have been a bonus. Unfortunately, I don’t think science is at the stage to give me the ideal body I want). Besides, I can’t have been the only one who has wondered what it might be like to be the opposite sex and the advantages that come with it.
On the other hand, biology is a strange beast. Yes, there are certain markers to differentiate males and females of a species, but none of it is universal. Female hyenas, after all, have more testosterone than their male counterparts. Male birds are more flamboyantly coloured to attract a mate.
Then, of course, if you throw in intersex individuals, the whole dichotomy between man and woman collapses in its entirety. After all, where do you put intersex people if the system is binary in nature?
From a dating perspective, meeting and chatting with people who have transitioned has certainly opened my eyes to a few things. And it’s definitely been a different experience to dating cisgendered men and women.
While I have yet to actually go on a date with a trans woman, some of our chats have been quite productive as we strive to seek a connection on shared interests. True, one stopped chatting when Starfield released and pivoted their focus on the latest release from Bethesda, but the other was enthusiastic about pursuing new skills and hobbies.
Neither one of them led me to suspect this was all a means to ‘threaten’ or ‘undermine’ women. They were people simply living their lives in a way that best suited them.
And both of them were much easier to chat with than the trans man I did actually meet up with two weeks ago as of time of writing. For the sake of simplicity, though, I’ll codename them Tip Top (because they’re as bland as white bread).
From the outset, Tip Top was a difficult person to converse with. They seemed to have an obsession with pushing aside any type of heteronormative narrative when it came to how relationships formed – while still falling within the traps of what differentiates romance from friendship. They also liked to unnecessarily explain or clarify things. For example: danmei novels, which are essentially BL (boys love) by another name.
Then, of course, there was the way they pushed aside their cultural and ethnic heritage. While I understood they had issues with their family (something they implied in relation to their transition), it bothered me to no end how they also rejected almost anything relating to, as they described it, ‘Western pop culture.’ Which was one of the reasons why they disliked trivia or word-association board games.
It was a difficult thing to process. Especially given my two loves: Disney and the written word. I’m a veritable thesaurus with how much I read (and write)! To have someone target the very things I love in the first meeting, well, it dismayed me. A lot.
But it also made me wonder how much Tip Top actually engaged with the wider world.
As I’ve shown in my travel posts, I love engaging with the various cultures across the world. Truth, as is almost always the case, is stranger than fiction. The events that have shaped the trajectory of the world is fascinating. And seeing the world through the eyes of different people was the EXACT reason I fell in love with reading in the first place.
Given the limited time we have in the world, and the fixed perspective we have, it is eye-opening for me to see how others might interpret the world. So, knowing that Tip Top purposely closed themselves off, was a difficult pill to swallow.
Although, I can’t say I was surprised.
In the past, I’ve known other people who, like Tip Top, seemed to have lived sheltered lives or who show no curiosity about the world they live in. All of their focus is turned inward, with many of their views coming off as narrow-minded. Especially when they espouse dogma they’ve, no doubt, taken from people around them rather than develop their own views.
It can even make them seem self-centred and entitled.
Perhaps, it was as Tip Top said, that they didn’t have many friends in high school. And hadn’t been keen to connect with anyone because they were only living ‘half a life.’ And yet, I’m sure there are certainly a lot of trans people out there who still managed to be socially engaging with those around them prior to taking hormones and/ or surgery.
In the end, our conversations stuttered over Sunday brunch as Tip Top only seemed interested in asking me shallow questions and then refusing to truly engage with any of my answers. Whereas I tried to coax out more about who they were as a person, focusing on what they said their hobbies were on their profile. A part of it, I felt, was their struggle with expressing their thoughts. For example, when I asked them to elaborate about a visual novel they were playing, they tried to hedge around many of the details. Even when I said I was fine about spoilers.
So many little things irked me about Tip Top.
Worse, I couldn’t shake the similarities I found between them and a person I used to know, who, in a last update, identifies as a Caucasian man. While I can accept the fact they’re trans (I introduced them to the concept of possibly being non-binary when we previously griped about the woes of being a woman), I take umbrage on the fact they’re trying to claim an alternate racial identity. Especially as they were born, and look, East Asian.
But I digress.
This is about Tip Top and our rather lacklustre meet-up.
After we visited the bakery, for them to pick up a hojicha latte (although they were lactose-intolerant and also suffered a mild aversion to gluten), we walked around a nearby park before I bid them farewell.
It wasn’t the worst meet up I’d been on but it certainly wasn’t a good one either. And it makes me exhausted thinking about trawling through the disappointments to reach the diamond I’m hoping for. There is something to be said about being single. And yet, the more I age, and the more my friends go their separate ways, the more alone I’m starting to feel.
Most first dates, or meet-ups as I like to call them (especially with a stranger), that I’ve gone to have involved lunch or coffee at a local cafe. Thankfully, in the city of Sydney, there are plenty of cafes (of varying quality) one can visit. And all of them come with a decent brunch menu (though some will close by 2:30 or 3 PM at the latest). Enter Edition Roasters. While it has a few branches in and around the CBD (Australian shorthand for Central Business District), my date and I picked the one in Darling Quater.
But I’ve jumped forward to our date and failed to introduce the person behind it all!
Although I’ve gone on a date before with a woman, Eivor, which didn’t end up as well as I had hoped, I wasn’t quite willing to quite throw in the towel. After all, how many dates have I gone with men? And while the men in my life have failed to make my heart flutter, who was to say I wasn’t an asexual lesbian?
Especially with the so-called ‘squishes’/ brief flirtations of attraction I’ve had with a few women I’ve met over the years? THough now that I think on it, do fictional men count in terms of romantic attraction? Am I still clutching at straws?
No, I couldn’t yet label myself as aromantic just yet!
I mean, Dikottir isn’t bad! It’s just…I don’t feel a sense of romantic attraction to him. Even though we’ve gone on five dates and have technically ‘known’ each other for a year now.
Alas, I have once more been distracted. Where was I? Ah yes, my so-called ‘date.’ So, yes, this trip out to Edition Roasters was my second meet-up with a woman.
From the very start on Hinge, we struck up a conversation on musicals including one that has yet to grace the stage – Epic: The Troy Saga by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. As a frequenter of Tiktok, she had heard the songs being performed whilst I had the good fortune for my Spotify shuffle list to insert a few of the songs whenever I chose to listen to songs from musicals.
Though not a frequent replier, we were both able to share our passion for musicals and also touched a little on their second passion: fanfiction. Given the obsession of my fellow classmates back in Year 8 and 9 for all things anime, and to stretch our writing skills, I was no stranger to fanfiction.
Back in my heyday, I used to frequent ones for Kingdom Hearts, Naruto, Shugo Chara! Even now, trying to ween myself off fanfiction, I still can’t quite kick the bucket as I continue to lurk among the Harry Potter fandom, while occasionally experimenting with Far Cry 5 (yes, I’m a gosh darn sinner), She-Ra and a host of Disney ones as well.
It was because of her heartfelt passion for Epic, and how we did initially chat about mythology, that I’ve given my date the code name: Athena. Unlike Eivor before her, she was keen to arrange a meet-up sooner rather than later. So, after some discussion – with a variety of choice between multiple places to eat at – we finally settled on Darling Square.
I was the first to arrive. Shivering in the cold Australian winter, I put my name down on the paper sheet out front and waited for our number to be called out. Athena joined me shortly afterwards and we chatted a little about our week and our lives. Before too long, our number was called and we were directed to a table out in the wind (perhaps not the best choice but given how busy the place was, it made nabbing a table easier). Despite not having much sun, there was a heater purposely positioned close by to offer some warmth. Although, if I’m being honest, it was the hot chocolate I ordered, more than anything else, which served to defrost me.
Then it was time for the main meal. Athena ordered a miso salmon ochazuke after crunching the numbers on online reviews regarding the cafe’s signature dishes, while I settled for a miso wagyu bolognese. As we ate, we talked a little of the work we did, our family composition, and the reason why we were dating. We even reminisced on many a bad date we’ve had – with her recounting one where the man hailed Hitler.
And though this is the second time someone I know has gone on a date with a seeming Nazi sympathiser, it’s a bit strange that it’s happened twice. I honestly have to wonder if they went on the date with the same man.
After lunch, we walked around Darling Harbour before heading up towards Town Hall station. It was, in my eyes, a wonderful day out. While I wouldn’t have called it love at first sight, I certainly didn’t feel as intimidated as my meet-up with Eivor at the ice-rink. Nor did I feel like Athena fail to meet the expectations I’d set up in my head.
I wouldn’t say we clicked immediately but it definitely felt like we had a strong connection and understanding of the other.
Now, I wouldn’t call that love but I’d say it went far more swimmingly than I’d feared. Yes, I was probably still putting up a front, but I didn’t feel either one of us dominated the conversation. It flowed well, like having a good deep and meaningful natter with a good friend (rather than an acquaintance).
Is this a good sign?
But Athena did say to hit her up for another outing.
The only problem, of course, is that I’m not so much a foodie as someone who simply tags along and enjoys the food on offer (as long as it’s not spicy). Does make me wonder if the two are related, though…
Are all asexuals bad with spice? Or is it just me with a low tolerance for both? Probably just me. And the smut fanfictions I read simply represents my ability to enjoy wasabi (to a degree). It’s not the perfect analogy but I’ll have to make do. This is, after all, coming down from spending an entire Saturday out and about at the Sydney Manga and Anime Show (SMASH!) and then finishing off all the chores I needed to do in preparation for the week ahead.
Give a 31, who will be 32 when this post goes up, woman a break! It ain’t easy trying to juggle care for an elderly grandparent, work, hobbies, dating and what else when it comes to the adulting life. It’s not like there’s a manual!
VIVID is an annual event in Sydney that began all the way back in 2009. For years, famous landmarks around the central business district have been lit up from late-May to mid-June, pausing only briefly due to the pandemic. Always, there have been magnificent exhibits to wow the senses and tantalise those with a creative bent. And nearly every year I go. With friends or family. To see what wonders the artists have conjured up for the year.
Of late, though, VIVID has become more and more commercialised. Exhibits are hidden behind paywalls. What was once free before now requires a person to fork over a decent of money. And in this day and age, where people are struggling because of the rising cost of money, many might choose to forego VIVID altogether.
And while I might have gone into the city with a friend or two in June, Dikottir asked me out first. Initially, he thought a Saturday would suit, until I told him of the crowds and that I was available for a weeknight adventure.
It didn’t take long for us to set a date and arrange to meet at Wynyard. Since this was something of a date, it seemed fitting we pay a little extra to enjoy one of the paid offerings at VIVID. And so, we purchased the tickets for Dark Spectrum, which would lead us into the old train tunnels underneath the fair city of Sydney.
Surprisingly, I managed to arrive before Dikottir. After waiting for a few minutes, he also arrived and we made our way to the entrance of the exhibit. As we headed down the staircase, we caught up on how our individual lives were going. Mine, as is almost always the case, was hardly interesting. A cycle of work and quiet weekends had crept back into my very organised and routine life. And while some would attribute finishing off a lengthy fantasy novel something to chat about, I’ve learned Dikottir isn’t all too curious (given his sister writes poetry and has actually won a prize).
As of typing up this blog post, I’m trying to finish off a short story that has ballooned into a 20k behemoth.
To be fair, I’m trying to conjure up an ending that makes sense for the character. Fingers crossed it won’t be all too much longer and I can finally start work on a project I want to see published.
Can you imagine, dear reader? Kyndaris, New York Times Best Seller!
I’m certainly not short of ideas for my stories, but it’s setting the time out to execute the vision I have in my head that is difficult to manage. If only I could be a division one winner for the lotto. That’ll certainly set me up.
Anyways, what was I saying?
Ah yes. Dark Spectrum! Well, suffice it to say, Dikottir and I headed down into the bowels of Wynyard train station, handed over our passes and were greeted by snippets of history of the old trams that ran underground. And then, before I knew it, I was bombarded by sound and flashing blue light. We had entered Misdirection portion of Dark Spectrum.
Through the confusing maze of blue arrows, we made our way to Search, an almost peaceful experience with its hanging lights. Through this ethereal tunnel, we emerged into Revel. An area that encouraged dancing and spruced up the tunnel segment with green lasers, but was also quick to utilise the darkness.
Dikottir, it must be said, was very much in his element. He might not have been the most elegant of dancers, but he certainly did let loose and didn’t mind if he incurred the judgement of the others traversing the exhibit with us. I, on the other hand, was a little bit more reserved and guarded. But also, a little overwhelmed by all the sensory outputs.
It wasn’t until we reached the next chamber that I felt a little calmer as the space was a little bigger and the music was more diffused. From the yellow chamber filled with all manner of code and binary numbers, we entered a tunnel filled with lanterns. And what a sight it was!
This had to be my favourite one of the chambers. Especially because of how photogenic it all was.
From the lanterns, we headed to a very angry red room with arches almost reminiscent of tori gates. Making our way through, we entered the very last chamber: filled with white light that broke out into mutli-coloured rainbows to represent how diverse white light truly is.
By the time we stepped out from Dark Spectrum, it was still quite early and the lights of VIVID has yet to be switched on. So, Dikottir and I traipsed to Circular Quay in search of food. As someone who is constantly craving Japanese, we tried out the DOPA located in Sydney Place before we headed to Customs House to see more of the pretty light show that has made Sydney such a great destination even during the winter months.
From Customs House, we made our way towards the Museum of Contemporary Art before we meandered our way through the Overseas Passenger Terminal. Along the way, I snapped photos of the Opera House and Dikottir purchased a huge slice of watermelon, topped up with some soft serve.
Once he had finished his monstrosity of a dessert, we rounded Dawes Point Reserve and headed down the wharfs. Where once the piers hosted a vast array of exhibits, this year, there was a marked absence of anything entertaining. I relayed all this to Dikottir. Multiple times.
So palpable was my disappointment.
And as we walked around Barangaroo Reserve, my disappointment only grew. There was hardly ANY exhibits around this section of the city except for an unimpressive arch.
Even in Barangaroo, the offerings were slim. Yes, there was Horizon but did I really want to head like moths to a flame in between two rows of container lines and stare at a big LED screen flashing orange? And while the ChairWave helped to rest my weary feet for a few minutes, it was hardly worth taking a photo of.
Down we walked, making our way towards Darling Harbour with nary anything exciting to divert my attention.
Even in Tumbalong Park and just outside the Chinese Garden of Friendship, the pickings were small. Where was the huge Swiss Cheese-like monument from yesteryear? Or the sheer amount of frogs? Or the other pretty lights hovering over the pools? What about the water show and dome that had sat in the middle of Darling Harbour?
No. 2024 had none of these options.
As we trudged up the Goods Line towards Central Station, there were a few other exhibits to see but nothing exactly worthwhile.
Much like our last ‘date,’ Dikottir offered me a hug. One I returned, still somewhat awkwardly. Despite the poor showing at VIVID, the date was still a good one.
But while I don’t find Dikottir offensive, and I certainly consider him a friend at this point (he did make a few jokes that he feared I’d lead him down into a dark alleyway and steal his organs – how, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve revealed my unhinged side to him just yet), I’m still questioning how far this might lead in terms of romance.
The thought of holding hands with him, or me showering him with displays of affection, gives me the creeps.
A romance straight from the movies, this is not. At best, it’ll be a love forged from a strong foundation of friendship. But this, of course, does necessitate a lot of time and investment. And it might still not eventuate into anything.
Of course, all of this is during a time when I’m questioning my sexuality and gender preferences. I know I’m certainly on the asexual spectrum but I still haven’t figured out who I might be willing to enter a romantic partnership/ companionship with.
In all honesty, the idea of simply finding a fellow roommate I can share an affordable apartment/ house with seems more up my alley. That way, neither of us are too lonely, and there’s still someone around I can talk to.
If anything, travelling with bleachpanda to Japan this year has shown that I’m surprisingly adaptable in my living arrangements. Yes, she snored terribly but our friendship still held. And we were able to work around each other’s normal routines without too much fuss.
Will the same thing pan out if I were to enter a proper relationship with Dikottir? But what if he wanted to do the deed?
At this stage, I can’t say for sure I want to jump his bones. Or, heck, even kiss him on the lips, but small steps right? And if the idea still doesn’t set butterflies off in my stomach down the line, I can, at least, I gave it the good ol’ college try. And hey, maybe we can still be friends! Just, you know, without the benefits.
I have often found that it is quite easy for me to fall into new routines. Take this blog, for example. In the past, it would contain impressions of the games I’d played and finished, along with the occasional anecdotes I’d come up with that had been on my mind. As I started to date, many of my posts soon changed to revolve around my attempts to find love. But despite going at it for nigh on two years, I haven’t felt closer to cracking the mystery that is romance even as I’ve flooded my weekly entries about my adventures.
As my love life dwindles though, I’ve been scrambling to find something fun and lighthearted to share with the dear readers I’ve accrued on my blog. Not that there’s many.
Still, at least I now have the opportunity to opine about the state of the world or properly allow my errant thoughts some breathing room.
Of course, if you’ve read the title of this blog, you’ll know that in this instance, my thoughts haven’t strayed too far from the familiar.
Since I’ve started chronicling the dates I’ve gone on, it has come as no surprise that I don’t regard myself as straight. There have been many a time wherein I’ve asserted that I sit somewhere on the asexual spectrum. But recent revelations on who I might be attracted to has had me scrambling on what it means to be in a relationship and the sacrifices one needs to make.
Although I’ve opened my preferences for all genders on Hinge, I’ve found it extremely hard to date or chat with people from unique backgrounds. Invariably, most of the people that tend to like my profile or who I actually respond are cisgender heterosexual men. Probably because they’re the ones most active on the dating apps. And while conversations can start off strong, it almost always seems to fail. Whether it’s because they’re a bad texter and I find it hard to continue a conversation or they just stop responding altogether.
The only person I’ve kept up a steady communication with is Dikottir. And in fact, we might be venturing out to VIVID Sydney for a fifth date (at time of writing, VIVID has only just begun). But while this may seem promising, it comes with the caveat that we’ve technically met in person since August 2023, with our initial chat on Hinge back in July of that same year.
If ever there was a relationship that was the epitome of a slow burn, this would be it.
Perhaps it comes from the fact both of us have our own individual lives and interests. Or maybe neither of us know how to navigate the quagmire encapsulating relationships.
I know I certainly don’t lead a very riveting life that requires constant chronicling/ updating to a third party I barely even know. Heck, not even my own mother asks me how my day has gone even after absconding to China and leaving me to care for my grandmother (although, if I’m being honest, there’s not much to say on a daily basis anyways. I wake up, I work, I cook and then I go to bed after playing some video games).
Besides, it’s not like I consider Dikottir my Roman Empire. There are just so many other things to preoccupy me: books, video games, shows, road trip planning…
To be fair, Dikottir has been nothing but a gentleman. But after years of having romance novels and films harp about a ‘spark’ or the ‘chemistry’ between two people, the word I’d use to describe my ‘relationship’ with Dikottir would be torpid. At best.
Still, I persist. Wondering if this ‘thing’ between us will ever work out. Although, if I was being truly honest with myself, I think it’ll just end up being a friendship.
Hinge, and many other dating apps, simply aren’t very conducive for me in building up a connection. Constant interactions in a shared environment or a neutral setting are some of the best places for me to slowly build up the foundation to a strong friendship.
And yet, there have been people I’ve met that I’ve felt an odd compulsive pull where I want to learn more about them. Alas, it’s only happened with women. As I’ve detailed before in an earlier post, there have been women I’ve been drawn to, believing we could be the best of friends. Is that love? Or is it the makings of a crush?
I wish I knew. I wish there was a definitive definition of what it means to fall in love with someone so I could tick off the symptoms and diagnose myself with it instead of having people tell me: “you’ll know it when it happens to you.”
A part of me does want to believe this is me like-liking someone but discussions with Sorrengail, a fellow ace, has described these instances of obsession as a ‘squish.’ And, in almost all instances, my swift and sudden obsessive curiosity does fade.
But it is in those rare moments that I do wonder if there might be something more beyond the platonic.
These last few days, I’ve posited the theory to myself that maybe I’m questioning these ‘squishes’ as something more because my mind has been focused on trying to build relationships and finding a romantic partner. But the more I do, the more I fear what might become of an actual committed relationship.
How much of myself will I need to compromise? Will it have all been a waste of time if nothing eventuates? How do I know if someone likes me or not? What are the ‘signals’ that I should be looking out for?
I think for most people the start of a relationship is always fraught with a mixture of emotions: the desire to make a good impression and the fear the other person might not like the ‘real’ you. Especially if you immediately lean into the chaos gremlin dwelling inside the human exoskeleton.
It’s certainly something I’ve thought about because even as a neurotypical person, I’ve often found myself portraying a heightened version of myself to different social circles. For example, I know I can’t go into a deep dive about Kingdom Hearts lore at work because no-one else would appreciate the collision of Disney and Japanese role-playing games. And I don’t talk about the books I read to many of my non-reader friends.
While these aren’t exactly separate personas, these images of me that I project are tailored to the audience I’m with.
Yes, they are all me but they are me in different situations.
And there aren’t many social circles where I feel comfortable enough to unleash the nose-booping, terrible picture-taking chaos gremlin menace that I really am on the inside. At least, I’m not comfortable with showing off that side of me.
Although, yes, there are people at work who know I’m a big massive nerd. And who are a little frightened of my ability to memorise addresses.
I also have a tendency of phrasing things terribly. So, there might be a subset of people I know who fear for their lives (looking at you Chinchilla) even though I wouldn’t hurt a fly (that’s a lie. I kill a lot of insects).
Jokes aside, I’m also worried I’ve entered this race for all the wrong reasons. Love isn’t something to be pursued. You can’t force it. It either comes naturally or it doesn’t. But maybe, too, I need to stop being oh so cautious and just jump in with both feet if I do feel something.
As Ellie Chu, from the film The Half of It put it: love isn’t patient and kind and humble. Love is messy and horrible and selfish and bold. It’s not finding your perfect half. It’s the trying and the reaching and failing. Love is being willing to ruin your good painting for the chance at a great one.”
Maybe that’s what I need to do. Instead of comparing and contrasting Hinge profiles to see who might be a good fit and letting my executive functioning do most of the work, I should lean into my instincts. Instead of fearing that a relationship won’t work out, I need to fight in the trenches for it.
And whether or not love will hit me over the head with a hammer or sneak up on me like an assassin, I need to be open to it.
Dating, as many people know, is hard. There have been many a person I’ve chatted to on Hinge where the conversations stalls before the first date. Other times, it’s at the very first meeting where I know me and the potential future life partner won’t be compatible. And, on the odd occasion, it’s the second date where it all falls apart. But what blows my mind is that I can count on one hand how many have reached the third date before calling it quits and ghosting me on whichever app we’re chatting on. Clearly, I’m not someone who is easy to date. Which is…fair.
But with Dikottir, we’ve managed to reach the elusive ‘fourth’ date. Although, I do find it hard to classify it as a date. Primarily because I only arranged for a meet-up so I could offload souvenirs I’d purchased for Dikottir while overseas.
For context, during my trip to South Korea and Japan, Dikottir and I had remained chatting in the vague sense I’d told him of some of my adventures (a little tit for tat as he’s often just sent me dog photos). While I was in Nagasaki, he mentioned that castellas were a much prized treat and that I ought to try one.
Which, of course I did (one point I’d like to emphasise here though, is that bleachpanda and I did try a castella even before Dikottir mentioned it).
As I was sightseeing across the city, bleachpanda and I would often stumble upon many a souvenir shop selling all types of merchandise. Many featured Nagasaki’s unique food, such as the aforementioned castella, but there were also champon noodles and pork belly buns, as acrylic charms or as figurines.
So, given where our conversation had led, I, of course, picked up two charms I thought Dikottir might appreciate.
The minor offering was later augmented with a Hufflepuff keyring. Why Hufflepuff you may ask? Well, in Dikottir’s own words he was a proud badger who loves food. And given Hufflepuff is located right next to the kitchens, he was all in to giving the oft overlooked Hogwarts House some much needed love.
Anyways, the two of us arranged for a meetup at a dessert bar in the suburb of Zetland where I could hand off the charms I got him and then be off on my merry way for the rest of the day. Sure, we’d eat a cake and maybe get a drink but this wasn’t supposed to be a long engagement like my previous dates with Dikottir.
This time round though, Dikottir was the first to arrive. As I rocked up to the cosy cafe, I noted Dikottir on his phone, waiting outside. With a quick greeting, we headed inside to make our orders and sit around eating cake.
And it was a good catch-up.
As always, we chatted about things in our lives and the current issues plaguing society. You know, the deep meaningful conversations one might have with people you might still don’t know super well but are slowly acclimatising oneself to as time goes on.
It’s certainly better than being talked at about some niche aspect of a popular video game (which, don’t get me wrong, I love video games. A majority of my posts are about the video games I play but when people start bending my ear for a month about what they did in the multiplayer for Mass Effect 3 and how they’d ripped the geth to shreds in very intricate detail, my attention does begin to wander).
Dikottir and I talked and ate cake until about 1 PM. But when I thought we would be parting ways, Dikottir surprised me by suggesting lunch at The Cannery, a local place that was just a ten minute walk away in the suburb of Rosebery.
Since I didn’t have anything too pressing, given this was the weekend after the Easter long weekend (and I’d come from a roadtrip with the family up to Port Macquarie to visit a family friend), I had plenty of time on my hands. So, off we went, although our conversation slowly turned towards mental health and the people we happened to encounter in our lives struggling with their grasp on reality. His was a friend and ex-coworker while mine was an old high school friend I no longer associated with.
Whereas Dikottir’s example had held ideas of grandiosity where they would move to the United States and their life would be rosy, mine is still struggling with self-induced psychosis (possibly an exaggeration on my part but every time I’ve been updated on their status, it seems they fall further down the rabbit hole). But in the end, the two of us agreed that there was no point in throwing ourselves in the figurative fire to try and rescue those threatening to self-destruct because of their maladaptive beliefs/ thought processes. Something that was reiterated to me by someone who works at a mental health clinic when I divulged a little of the details of my mentally ill ex-friend.
Do I sometimes feel guilty for stepping away?
Yes.
But even before they’d fully gone off the deep-end, I’d slowly started to resent them for not contributing enough to our house hunting needs and failing to offer any help as I did most of the work.
Our dynamic, unfortunately, didn’t work. And I had always felt uncomfortable in how they’d previously put me on a pedestal. As if I was someone who could do no wrong. Even as I was struggling with my own familial relationships at the time!
Anyways, that’s not something I want to go into just yet. If you want to read about the fallout in our friendship from a semi-vague viewpoint, look out for my posts in 2022.
After our grim discussion, Dikottir and I arrived at the Cannery. Given that it was lunch time, we had a quick look at the Saturday stalls and the goods they had on offer. Once we had looked through everything once, Dikottir and I stopped at Frenchies Bistro and Brewery where I got a prawn and lobster roll while Dikottir was satisfied with his plate of tortellini.
Some might consider it strange to have lunch right after chowing down on dessert, but it worked for us. Plus, the ambiance was nice, the company was great and there was no pressing need to hurry back home.
All in all, it was a much more relaxed date that I shared with Dikottir this fourth time round. Whether or not it will eventually lead to anything is still up in the air.
Dikottir is a nice enough fellow who has some very funny stories. And he’s not so hyperfixated on only one topic. And much like Shrek, who came before him, he knows how to converse instead of making it completely one-sided. Plus, he also has a good job and hasn’t shown me any red flags of an explosive temper that could lead to physical violence.
So, if we are talking about actual potential future partner prospects, Dikottir is one of the strongest contenders for my affections I’ve met. And we’re still chatting!
And yet, I don’t think I feel anything beyond possible friendship?
Dating as an asexual (who might be a closeted lesbian although my date with Eivor didn’t see me catching feels, so maybe I truly am ace/ aro) is hard. I don’t understand the lust most people have. And while I do get obsessive squishes (something Sorrengail – and fellow ace – mentioned once to me), I don’t know if my brief bout of wanting to know more about a person will actually lead to romantic love like ‘holding hands’ and the much dreaded ‘kissing.’ On the other hand, since I’m trying to ‘date,’ many of these more natural things people just end up doing is on my mind and I wonder if my dates will actually try to hold my hand, etc. and how I’d react if they did.
While I don’t think I would reject Dikottir if he did ask to hold my hand, I am somewhat touch averse. Something I made clear when Dikottir escorted me back to the train station and we said our goodbyes.
To be fair, Dikottir did ask if he could give me a hug and I did warn him I’m very bad at hugs, but he didn’t seem to mind.
So maybe there’s hope?
I certainly didn’t ‘get the creeps’ after returning his hug.
Anyways, the future remains unwritten for the dating life of Kyndaris. Time will tell if I’ll ever end up with anyone or if I’ll just become a single mum seeking a sperm donation because the idea of having a kid is not instantly repulsive to me.
But suffering through childbirth does kinda terrify me. Especially when I’ve read horror stories about all the things that could go wrong.
On my quest to find a possible romance partner, I’ve met a range of different people. Some have been nice. Most are far too nervous. And then there are a few who fail to pass muster. While I usually like to get to know someone before meeting them face-to-face, I’m not too opposed to go on a blind date once in a while if it’s for coffee in the middle of the day and at a public place. So, when my grandmother’s friend, who runs a dating agency, told me about a man she thought it would be good for me to meet, I said ‘Sure, why not?’ After all, the whole dating experiment is meant to be about testing compatibility and seeing if we could be together in a romantic sense.
Long Black – the codename for this particular individual – didn’t really chat to me much via text message but was keen to have a coffee. In the end, he suggested the Artisaint cafe at Burwood. I readily agreed. It was, after all, a nice in-between location filled with a ton of people.
Unfortunately, I was late to the date. Due to a few personal circumstances, I had to take my grandmother to the bank in order to reactivate her debit card and set a pin. Then there were the groceries to purchase as well as a few household chores that needed to be done. By the time I left my place, I knew I would be late and summarily texted Long Black the situation. He seemed understanding about the fact.
Open communication. One of the first tenets to the establishment of a long-term relationship.
Trying to be the good Samaritan that he thought he was, Long Black did ask me if he ought to order anything for me and was kind enough to send through a copy of the menu. As I was driving, I couldn’t respond to him but by the time I parked, I informed him I didn’t drink coffee and it wouldn’t be a problem for me to order when I got to the cafe.
I arrived at Artisaint twenty minutes after the assigned time – something which bugged me because I dislike being late at the best of times – said ‘hello’ to Long Black and quickly perused the menu. In no time, I’d ordered an ice chocolate and a spaghetti bolognese as I’d not had the time to enjoy lunch. As I ate, Long Black peppered me with questions about my interests and life. He zeroed in on murder mysteries, after I mentioned studying criminology at university, and began asking about good shows.
There were a few other questions like my job, my family make-up and a few of my hobbies. Long Black was especially quick to say ‘me too’ if he agreed with anything I said. While these were all good and fine, considering we didn’t manage to go over shared interests during our very short-lived text conversation, it did feel like I was being interviewed.
But, dear readers, let me first paint a picture of our Mr Long Black.
On the profile he submitted to the dating agency, he provided a photo where he was out on a cliff overlooking the ocean, advised he had studied computer science and that his hobbies included singing. The man I met was a nervous introvert. While the photo showed him in jean shorts and a nice black shirt, the man I met wore a baggy black t-shirt with ‘Tradie’ written on it in big block letters. He also had on a pair of grey sweatpants and white tennis shoes. He’d also done a poor job at shaving, with patches on the right side of his face. I later learned he’d only studied computer science to secure himself a permanent resident visa and that he was now working in a warehouse catering to eBay.
To say I was disappointed was an understatement.
In fact, by the time I finished my spaghetti bolognese, I was looking to leave. Mr Long Black simply wasn’t cutting it for me. Especially as he seemed adamant to speak in English although I’d told him (and demonstrated my ability) to speak in Mandarin. He also expressed some views that I found a bit narrow-minded, without much potential for growth.
I don’t like to speak ill of the people I meet but there was an air of desperation to him. Or maybe it came from the fact he kept sipping from his coffee cup (which already looked half empty by the time I arrived). Whatever the case, he reminded me of a high school friend of mine whose girlfriend had brutally broken up with him during their overseas trip and had lost hope of ever finding someone.
Coupled with the fact that Mr Long Black didn’t like his job but wasn’t making any steps to changing his situation, I had the feeling he was a man looking for a woman who could encourage him out of his shell and to force him to try new things. An extrovert who didn’t mind ‘fixing’ him, if you will.
This, of course, is not me.
If you’ve read my post about Stray Gods, you know Apollo didn’t much appeal to me because he was just a sad boi. I would prefer a manic pixie dream boy/ himbo golden retriever, or a power mummy who will step on me.
Okay. Well, maybe they don’t have to be those archetypes (especially if they’re an actual flesh and blood human), but I’m definitely not someone wants a problem project of a human. And after trying to ‘fix’ the one ex-friend I had, who also lived an incredibly sheltered life and has only now discovered gender fluidity at thirty because of their lack of exposure to basically everything, I don’t need or want to fall back into old habits.
Although, to be perfectly honest, I think I do have a type. Shout out to my friend Redoubt asking me about this during our Christmas/ New Year party at the end of 2023. But honestly, I think my type might be women. Their the ones who can draw you in because they’re energetic and bubbly and you don’t feel silly around when you goof up. And while their laughs can be loud, it’s also endearing?
I know! Revelation after revelation!
I was reading A Man Called Over for my work bookclub and while I’m not as good with my hands as Ove is, I’m definitely the more curmudgeonly type of individual. As I’ve told quite a few people, I’m the grump who needs a sunshine to brighten up their days. The one whose nose is booped when they’re being stubborn.
So, what I need is the Enid to my Wednesday. The Harley to my Ivy.
In any case, I didn’t stay long with Mr Long Black, feigning an excuse to leave after an hour and a bit in his stomach. Given I’d also ordered more than he did, I also paid for the bill. In this age of equality and feminism, it seemed like the decent thing to do despite his objections (Long Black was seated on the cushion-y seats inside the booth while I sat outside).
Afterwards, I took a gander around Burwood Westfield before heading home, retreating once more to the comfort of my books and video games.
So ended a not so successful date.
But who knows, maybe I might have found a spark as I’ve been travelling overseas. By now, bleachpanda and I are probably in Japan and will be making our way back home to Australia in a few short days. True, we’ll miss out on the cherry blossom season but there’s always next time!
The Writing Corner 