by Anita Heiss
Table of Contents
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter one I love being single
Chapter two Strategic planning
Chapter three Feng shui-ing Mr Right
Chapter four I'm not a lesbian
Chapter five I am deadly and desirable
Chapter six Holmesy
Chapter seven Mr Moonwalker
Chapter eight More blind dates from hell
Chapter nine Looking via the mobile network
Chapter ten Possibly the worst date ever!
Chapter eleven Mr Dick Fiddler
Chapter twelve Mr Committaphobe
Chapter thirteen Mr I'm-Just-Not- That-Into-You
Chapter fourteen Stick to the strategy
Chapter fifteen The kitchen tea
Chapter sixteen A date with Casper
Chapter seventeen Peta's brainwave: Perfect Paul
Chapter eighteen The hens' night
Chapter nineteen Waiting for Paul to call
Chapter twenty Mr Too-Right?
Chapter twenty-one He's the one, he's the one!
Chapter twenty-two Someone else's wedding
Chapter twenty-three I've got a valentine!
Chapter twenty-four Men suck and I am just too deadly
Chapter twenty-five I should be loved, cherished and worshipped
Chapter twenty-six I will be kind and compassionate to all the white people I meet today
Chapter twenty-seven Trawling the classifieds
Chapter twenty-eight Getadate.com.au
Chapter twenty-nine Uprising
Chapter thirty Holiday romance
Chapter thirty-one Love yourself and you will be loved
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the author
Dr Anita Heiss has published poetry, non-fiction, historical fiction and social commentary. Her novel Who Am I? The diary of Mary Talence, Sydney 1937 was shortlisted for the 2002 NSW Premier's Award for young fiction. She was awarded the ASA Medal (Under 35s) for her contribution to Australian literature and community life in 2004. Anita is a member of the Wiradjuri nation of central New South Wales, lives in Sydney, believes in love at first sight and enjoys being single!
Not Meeting
Mr Right
Anita Heiss
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Not Meeting Mr Right
ePub ISBN 9781864714920
Kindle ISBN 9781864717556
Original Print Edition
NOT MEETING MR RIGHT
A BANTAM BOOK
First published in Australia and New Zealand in 2007 by Bantam
Copyright. Anita Heiss, 2007
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by anymeans, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutoryexceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Heiss, Anita, 1968–.
Not meeting Mr Right.
ISBN: 9781863255110
1. Dating (Social customs) – Fiction. 2. Man–woman relationships – Fiction. I. Title.
A823.3
Transworld Publishers,
a division of Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney, NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au
Cover illustration and design by saso content & design pty ltd
Internal design by VJ Battersby
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
This book is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
This project has been assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.
one
I love being single
'I love being single!' I said, with such conviction I almost believed it myself. All of a sudden I was desperately trying to convince myself and the table of proud married mothers that I really, really loved my single life just the way it was, and had no desire to marry and/or breed, thank you very much. Until I'd arrived at the pub that night, it had pretty much been true.
It was two months after my twenty-eighth birthday and I was at my ten-year school reunion at the Hub in Bondi Junction, our stomping ground in our late teens. Back then it had been known as Jack's Bar. I'd dreaded the night since the invitation had arrived and had spent the previous three months mentally scripting and planning the event. It was sure to be an unpleasant reminder of what school had been like. I'd been a self-conscious teenager who never really fit in – me being a Blackfella from La Perouse and the rest of the girls whitefellas from Vaucluse and Rose Bay. A triangular peg in a round hole, I used to say. I'd never felt skinny enough or pretty enough compared with the other girls.
I wouldn't even have gone, if Dannie hadn't almost physically dragged me along. I'd much rather have stayed away – or boycotted, as Bianca had put it. Bianca had better things to do, like 'hanging out with her man', she'd said. The three of us had remained friends after school, but Dannie was married now, Bianca had just got engaged, and me, well I was loving being single. We seemed an unlikely trio, but somehow we were mates.
I was now the head of the history department at a private Catholic girls school, living in a funky twobedroom flat, full of sunlight and right on Coogee Beach, and I'd aged well compared to my old school buddies. I'd thought that would be more than enough to see me through the reunion with head held high, but within minutes of ordering my first gin and tonic, it was clear that my old classmates weren't impressed. In their eyes, I was without the one key ingredient that determined success and true happiness: I did not have my Mr Right. I was the only one at the table who didn't, but they made me feel like I was the only one on the planet. This time I was prettier and thinner than most, but they had all moved on. They had all joined the 'club' – the 'I have a significant other and significant little others' club.
The reunion was set up like a speed-dating event. Everyone was allocated a specific amount of time speaking to the person opposite them; when the time was up, one side of the table moved left to face someone new. The idea was to keep on doing this until everyone had the chance to catch up with everyone else. The conversations so far, though, had all been about wedding planners, floral arrangements, dress fittings, honeymoon locations and gift registries. I'd never had a bridal register, or a wedding planner, and with no similar experiences of my own to share or compare, I felt left out.
Now I sat opposite Estelle and just listened, sucking on the ice from the bottom of my first drink.
'Excuse me, Alice,' she said as she rearranged her rather bulky bra, 'My nipples are killing me.'
'What!' I spat ice back into my glass. Was there a new dinner-table etiquette I was unaware of that meant it was okay to discu
ss sore nipples in public?
'Still breastfeeding and my son just tugs on them.' She put her whole hand in her bra.
'Really ...' I didn't know what else to say, but it didn't matter. She continued right on.
'At least the pain isn't long term – not like stretch marks or the need to do pelvic floor exercises every day.' Estelle grimaced and I guessed she was tightening her fanny. It wasn't a good look. Right at that moment I seriously loved being single: sore nipples, loose fannies and stretch marks didn't appeal to me at all.
I was bored already, and food wasn't even in sight. I eavesdropped briefly on the conversation next to us.
'I registered at Peter's of Kensington – they do the best bridal baskets,' I heard Louise say.
'I was with DJs, but seeing as it was my second wedding I wanted to keep it low key,' Judi responded. I couldn't believe these women were actually for real.
I love being single! had been my daily mantra for the last couple of years. Serial dating and short-term relationships suited me fine. My single life was great compared with the lives of some married women I knew. God knows the teachers at school who had kids always looked tired and were on the run all the time.
No-one I'd spoken to so far had seemed convinced by my I love being single! mantra, though. They'd responded only with 'Of course you do!' and 'There's absolutely nothing wrong with being single.' But to me they sounded condescending and that got my back up. Within the first half-hour, all my insecurities about not being skinny or pretty enough compared to the other girls in the school grounds had come flooding back.
I should have taken note of my horoscope that morning: 'Expect the unexpected! Remember your own value.' Let's face it, while I hadn't expected to have a raging good time at the reunion, I sure as hell hadn't expected to be tripping over my self-esteem because of it either. Aria's Super Stars were nearly always right when it came to Leo predictions and I always, always relied on her words of wisdom to see me through the day, but somehow they weren't providing me with enough positive affirmation to deal with the reunion.
Someone gave me the shove to move left again. I didn't know whose idea the speed dating set-up was, but it was genius. I moved on, leaving Estelle's sore nipples for someone else to soothe.
'I love being single! ' I said to Linda, before she had the chance to talk about any part of her anatomy or any special exercise regime she might be following. I looked down at my cleavage. 'And my nipples are fine.' I thought I'd get in first. 'No stretch marks, and I haven't been too stretched downstairs either!' I laughed.
Linda looked at me oddly, and asked, 'How many kids have you got, Alice?'
'None. I'm a bleeder, not a breeder,' I said, half trying to be funny, half serious. Linda just smiled politely and showed me a couple of photos of her children. Admittedly, they were cute, but when she put them back in her wallet, we looked at each other blankly. I hadn't really ever even thought about kids, not seriously. Not seriously enough to have a meaningful conversation with a mother about parenting, anyway.
Of course I'd dreamt about meeting Prince Charming and having a fairytale wedding. All girls do. I'd started planning my wedding when I was only twelve and we'd had a mock ceremony in the street where I grew up. Richard Barker played the groom. He wore a school tie with his shorts and t-shirt and I wore a pink dress and a shower curtain on my head as a veil. Since then I hadn't become Muriel by any means, but I had bought the odd wedding magazine over the years, just to look at the pictures, and I'd been to one or two bridal fairs. All women did, didn't they? I called it research. I was a teacher; I liked to be organised. No-one wants to be running around at the last minute once the question has finally been asked. Yes, even single girls have bridal dreams occasionally. Women who say they've never thought about a fancy wedding are lying. Problem was I'd not given any thought to what would happen after the wedding. All I really wanted was a man. A wedding would be fun too. But married life? Not for me.
I was glad to get the nod from Jen, the class bossyboots, to move on. 'I think our time's up, Linda. Pity ...' We both half smiled. Even if I only had to spend a short time speaking to every woman there, it was still going to be a struggle. I was beginning to feel inadequate: I was an intelligent, educated, capable woman, unable to make conversation, even basic small talk, with girls I'd spent six years at school with. Why didn't we have anything to talk about?
Don't get me wrong. It wasn't as though I wanted to talk about current affairs all night – refugees, Indigenous health, peace in the Middle East – but some diversity would've been appreciated. Talking to Jen would be a welcome break. She'd been great to have in my Society and Culture class in senior years – she always brought something quirky to every discussion.
'So Alice, I've been looking forward to speaking to you. You were always so political at school. I've just joined this new party, and I thought you might be interested in it.' Thank god – Jen hadn't changed at all.
'Cool, which party? What's its platform?' I was already feeling more comfortable. Politics were a level playing field. Didn't need kids to be political.
'It's the Family Party – we advocate for protecting traditional family values, the family is the most important thing.' She rattled this off as though she was reciting the strict party line.
I nearly dropped my drink. Was I sitting with a mobster's wife, a John Howard fan, or just a lunatic?
'So, what does the party think of same-sex marriages?' I asked, baiting her.
'They don't endorse anything that's not in the Bible.'
'Female clergy, then – you always believed in equality for women in society.'
'No, there are definite roles for men and women, and the clergy isn't for both sexes.'
'Abortion?' I could tell I'd hit a nerve as Jen started to fidget. Her politics were bad politics, but she wasn't an idiot. I'd thought if I made her say the words out loud she might see how ridiculous her position was, but she didn't respond at all. She knew I knew the answer to this question already. It seemed even the political conversations tonight would be hijacked by notions of motherhood and womanhood and narrow definitions of family.
'The party does support a formal government apology for the stolen generations, Alice,' Jen said almost proudly. 'You'd appreciate that. Wasn't your grandmother stolen?'
So the party had one decent item on their agenda – their support for Blackfellas didn't discount the fact that they were homophobic and sexist. Who'd want an apology from that mob anyway? I knew my grandmother wouldn't.
'Why exactly did you join this party, Jen? You seemed so broadminded at school.' I was blunt.
'Because my husband did, and I support his views. That's what married life is about. Support and compromise.' My stomach turned. Not only had Jen taken on extreme right-wing political beliefs, but she hadn't even thought them through for herself. Or had she? Did she truly believe she had to adopt her husband's views? I'd marry a guy with political beliefs for sure, but if his beliefs didn't match mine – highly unlikely – I sure as hell wouldn't be crossing the floor in the name of wedlock. I had to do a reality check. Was it 1950? Was I actually at Jack's Bar listening to this? Had we all been taught the same things at school? If so, what had gone wrong? Was it me? Surely not!
I looked around the table for some answers and all I saw was a group of women who had lost their own sense of identity. They were all now known as Mrs Joe Bloggs or Mrs Sue Jones-Bloggs or Emily Bloggs's mother. But they all seemed happy. Why was I so angry? Was it possible I was feeling envy?
As luck would have it, I was opposite Dannie next, and our entrees arrived, so I had some respite from trying to fit in. It was an opportunity to bone up on some birthing detail, too, before I had to move left again.
'So, how many waters are there anyway?' I whispered. 'And what do you do if they break on a bus?' Dannie – my only married friend – thought I was joking, but in all honesty, I had no idea what my old classmates had been talking about. Why would I? There's an unrealistic
expectation that every woman is maternal and is born to breed. Not me. I wasn't maternal at all.
'Seriously, Dannie, does meeting Mr Right and breeding with him mean that women can't think or talk of anything else from that moment on?' Dannie wasn't off ended, she just laughed and changed the subject. 'What did you think of The Daily Terror's report on Black deaths in custody last Saturday, Alice? I've been waiting all week to hear your opinion.'
