Well loyal blog-readers, the moment you’ve been waiting for has finally arrived. I snagged myself a boyfriend Down Under.
I know you’re going to have mixed emotions about this (“But Jenn, we really want to hear more about what a miserable failure you are at picking up a man!” or “Oh joy, now you can go back to being boring and coupled-up,” and maybe a few “Oh yay, that’s lovely. Is he hot/rich/have a brother?”), but I am indeed officially off the meat market that is the Sydney dating scene.
Because the Aussie men in Sydney appear to only be interested in women who viciously attack on nightclub dancefloors and practically beat them over the head and drag them to bed, I wound up with an Englishman (who prefer to be the ones beating over the head and dragging. JOKES!). And, at the risk of sounding like a giddy schoolgirl, I’m pretty smitten.
Not that it was very easy, mind you. Firstly, we were not supposed to get together – it wasn’t even on the table at all when we met. No, this is not the typical “boy meets girl at a party or happy hour and they exchange phone numbers and have a couple of dates then things get serious” situation. It was much, much different. It was a “boy meets girl because they’re both at the end of their leases and need a new house” situation. Yes, ladies and gents, I started dating my roommate. Cue the canned laughter, it’s an expat version of Friends.
After we realized that there was a little more going on here than sharing a bathroom, it was all male freakouts and mutual “this won’t serious” conversations. And I was fine either way; I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to be dating someone that close to home anyway (see what I did there?). Then I went on holiday for three weeks. And my English Muffin pretty much shriveled up and died in my absence (potentially a slight dramatization). To be fair, I missed him a bit too. And he instantaneously locked it in once he realized that I am amazing and he couldn’t live without me, roommate or no roommate.
Then there was the awkward, newly-minted relationship bit. Both of us had to reacquaint our mouths with the word “boyfriend,” and “girlfriend.” In fact, sometimes I still default to calling him my flatmate instead of my boyfriend (or “partner,” as per my last post). And then we had to do things like letting each other know when we had weekend plans, when before we didn’t have to answer to anybody. And then came the joint birthday party, and weekends away, etc. etc. and I slowly realized that we had flown from not knowing each other at all to serious, serious, really damn fast.
But such is the speed of life sometimes. Sometimes you meet and click and it seems silly to artificially pump the breaks when everything is really good. And maybe I’ll find myself single and homeless in six months, but I’ve got a pretty good feeling about this one. So friends, place your bets! And we’ll see where we are come March.
Til next time, xoxoxo!