Avoiding Mr Right

by Anita Heiss

  eight

  Getting cultured in Melbourne

  As part of my enculturation into Melbourne, and my new job, I took the City Circle Tram upon the advice of some of the city's 'Melbourne Ambassadors'. Cute and cuddly looking retired men in red shirts, they were still young and feisty enough to make a pass at any gorgeous woman who asked them about their much-loved city. Coming from Sydney, where the greatest money spinner for the city each year was Mardi Gras, I almost keeled over laughing to hear the old fellas talk about the city's one main gay bar.

  'Yes, it's for gays only. But there has been some legal opposition to it. You know, because other people want to go there on Saturday night.'

  'Well, everyone needs to feel safe in their environments, don't they?' is all I said. These fellas were real men, like John Wayne real men. The kind of men that Alice's mum was talking about. I knew there was no point in trying to have the conversation about the 'gay bar'. Were they actually homophobic? Or was it just that homosexuality wasn't part and parcel of everyday life for their generation, like it was when you lived in Sydney?

  I had to tell the girls about the tourist tram; it was fantastic. I sent the same email to James, but separately:

  Hi there, just sending you my own personal blog so you know that I'm still alive, have all my limbs and that life in Melbin ain't that bad. Today I took the tourist tram from the corner of Spencer and Swanston streets and listened with interest to the running commentary from the tram driver, learning that Melbin has the largest tram network in the English-speaking world. Who'da thought? The tour was deadly. Can't wait till you come down, you have to do it for sure. Also saves walking!!! Have to tell you though that I smiled when I saw all the palm trees lining the streets, behind the Telstra Dome and along Docklands, just like at St Kilda. Like Melbin's some tropical paradise or something. Just an observation, I'm sure you'll have some of your own. Miss ya, P xxxx

  Alice emailed back and cc'd the girls. I could hear them all laughing at my expense:

  Hey yourself tidda, what's with the palm trees? Are they meant to convince Melburnians that it isn't that cold in winter? Are locals meant to forget the frost when they see the palms? Seriously Peta, can't wait to do the tram ride with you, sounds fabulous. Have fun. Skype soon? Girls? Miss you too, x Alice

  ♥

  At the end of my second week the department had happy hour drinks and I met some more of my new colleagues before Sylvia dragged me away. Warm-cheeked and lightheaded from two glasses of cheap wine, I sat eagerly at a table at Pireaus Blues in Fitzroy scanning the menu.

  'I've brought millions of Kooris here. They love it.' Sylvia enjoyed playing hostess and was right at home with the staff, calling them by their first names.

  'Millions of Kooris, really? That's quite a lot given there's only a few hundred thousand Blackfellas in total.' Sylvia had a whole language of her own, and exaggerating for her really wasn't exaggerating at all. It was just the way she made her point known. I wasn't sure if it was a poet thing, a Greek thing or just a Sylvia thing. For her, everything was measured in millions, tasks were referred to as missions, and she'd always tell me she got up at sparrow fart, rather than saying she woke first thing in the morning. I wondered how she'd get on with Alice, Dannie and Liza.

  'So, what's good on the menu?' My mouth was watering and I had that slightly pissed need to eat something urgently.

  'Well, I'm a vegan, so I haven't tried any of the meat dishes,' Sylvia said, without looking up from the menu.

  'Vegan? Is that like vegetarian?'

  'Bit more than that. I don't eat eggs, dairy products, or any foods that are related to animals in any way.'

  'What about honey?'

  'Nup.'

  'More to the point then, what do you eat?'

  'Plenty! Grains, beans, legumes, vegetables and fruits.' She counted them off on each of her five fingers on her left hand.

  'So no junk food, then?' The vegan diet sounded so boring.

  'Well, I can buy vegan hot dogs and ice-cream.'

  'Would you bother? I bet they taste terrible.'

  'They do!' She laughed.

  'Can you eat anything off this menu? I mean, we can go somewhere else if you want.'

  'No, I love it here. I'll have the ladies' fingers, all the dips, and grilled vegetables. Peta, you eat all the chargrilled meat and octopus you like.'

  'Hi Sylvia, great seeing you again.' The waitress Pires spoke to Sylvia like she was an old friend, and made me feel welcome too. I liked her immediately.

  'Should we get a bottle of something, Sylvia?'

  'You know I only drink because it helps me write poetry.'

  'That's funny, I only drink because it helps me read it.' And we both laughed.

  'Seriously, I try to only drink organic wine and beer which don't have animal products in them.'

  'Beer and wine have animal products in them? Really?'

  'Yeah, a lot of beers and wines are refined using something called isinglass, which comes from fish, and some are filtered with bone char.'

  'Bone char? I don't know what that is but it doesn't sound like something I want to be drinking, that's for sure. But how do you know which wine is which? I've never heard of vegan wine before.'

  'It's not called vegan wine – it's organic wine.' Sylvia seemed to be enjoying the cross-cultural vegan workshop she was giving me. Sitting opposite her I realised that the Greek-Australian eco-poet was going to be teaching me a lot while I was in Melbourne.

  Pires was back at the table. 'Actually, Sylvia, we've just got some Robinvale organic wine. The owner agreed to order it in cos their cellar door is shaped like a Greek temple.' She smiled at being able to please her customer.

  'Excellent, we'll have a bottle of your finest, then.'

  When the food arrived, it was delicious and there was plenty for Sylvia to eat. I couldn't remember going to a Greek restaurant in Sydney where I'd enjoyed myself so much, so I just had to text the girls to tell them:

  Hi, havin best souvlaki this side of Athens, organic wine 2, deadly. C if u can find sum in Syd. Px

  Then I turned my phone off, because I didn't want to be carrying on a debate via SMS over dinner.

  I enjoyed hanging out with Sylvia, and was glad that we clicked immediately, but there were no boundaries with her, she said everything she thought – perhaps it was the artist in her, always challenging the audience. I was quickly exhausted by her dinner recitals, which included too much information on her bowel movements since becoming a vegan. I looked at my watch and it was only nine pm, but I was done.

  'It must be time to leave, Sylvia, it's been a long day, a long week.' I wanted to call James when I got home if it wasn't too late and Aunt was still awake. I was using the sofa bed in the lounge room, in the centre of the house, so I couldn't talk if people were sleeping.

  As we left the restaurant we bumped into one of Sylvia's friends on the street. Shelley was just on her way out, her night beginning as ours was about to end.

  'Shelley, Peta, Peta, Shelley. Peta's going to be the Minister for Cultural Affairs, and Shelley's going to be the Chair of the Reserve Bank and save the working class from too many interest rate hikes.' Sylvia was the eternal optimist, and I liked that she believed in my dream, but I also knew by now that anyone who believed they were going to be a best-selling poet in Australia really did know how to dream.

  'Nice to meet you, Peta.' Shelley had had a couple of cocktails by the looks of it, as she grinned a silly smile in her corporate clothes. She looked back at Sylvia. 'Hey, darl, I'm looking for a housemate, so if you know anyone who's happy to share let me know.' I do, I do! I screamed within, hoping that Sylvia would say something.

  'Actually, Peta's looking for somewhere to live. You're at Albert Park, aren't you?'

  'Didn't I tell you? I've moved into the family home at St Kilda. Mum and Dad have gone travelling around the country, which was perfect timing because I broke up with Josh the week before they left, and one of us had to ge
t out of the flat. No such thing as coincidence, they say.' I already liked Shelley. 'They're doing that retiree trip they all do. So, I've got the place to myself, but it's too big just for me, and my brother refuses to come back home.

  'So, the rent's cheap.' Shelley started talking directly to me, 'And we're close to bars and cakes if that's a drawcard at all.' God, Shelley was my Ms Right, or would've been if I were a bloke.

  'Oh, sounds perfect – can I see the house?' I hoped I didn't sound too eager as we arranged for me to see it first thing in the morning.

  I crept into Aunt's house as quietly as I could but she had one of those old seventies beaded curtains to keep the flies out that rattled forever. It was too late to make calls and I was disappointed but knew I'd speak to James the next day. The taste of taramasalata lingered even after I'd brushed, flossed and gargled, and when I collapsed onto the sofa bed, my head spun slightly as I burped the taste of garlic souvlaki, and fell into a drunken sleep.

  ♥

  I'm in a taverna in Delphi, and Miltos the waiter is filling my glass with retsina. I see the sun setting and Miltos is knocking off work and getting ready to go out. His friends arrive to go to the opening of a nightclub in town, and although I'm only in a dream, I'm invited. I don't have luggage because I've astral travelled there so I have to wear the clothes I've got on. Luckily I am in fashionable Melbourne black, as if I knew I was going to Europe in winter, but underneath my skinny pants and tight roll neck (because it is my dream I can be as thin as I like), I am wearing very ungroovy thermal underwear. Still, it's black, so that's a little sexy. It is winter after all, and Delphi has frost in the mornings.

  The venue is Delphi-by-Night and it's the place to be. My friends say the disco is going to bring new energy to the olive-growing town. I'm dancing with Miltos for hours it seems, and then, as I make my way to the ladies, past the bar, one of his friends, Spiros, grabs me. 'Are you going to sleep with Miltos?'

  I don't try to explain that I'm already asleep and that I'd need to wake up first to be able to 'sleep' with someone. I don't try to explain the concept of astral travelling either, because Spiros's English isn't that great, and my knowledge of astral travelling isn't that great either. All I can do is look shocked, which of course I am anyway. I mean what kind of guy asks you that, even in your dreams?

  'I'm going to be sleeping alone, thanks anyway, Spiros. If you were worried about me or something.'

  'I am not worried, Miltos is a fine man and it's your decision, but I can't do anything because Miltos saw you first.' Like I'm a bloody lobster being chosen out of the fish tank at a restaurant in Chinatown! I hate to admit it, but Spiros is gorgeous. He has big Moby Dick lips that you just want to kiss. He pulls me close and slips his hand up the back of my top, under my thermal underwear vest, and somehow undoes my bra. Greek men clearly have a better understanding of women's underwear than any Aussie man I have ever met, even in my dreams.

  I return to where Miltos is sitting, because I'm loving the attention and I don't really want to wake up. As long as it's a dream, technically I'm not flirting.

  'I'm not sleeping with you, Miltos, so if you want to go look elsewhere then that's fine with me.' Of course I don't mean it, it's not fine at all for a man to admit that he's only interested in having sex with you and then leave when you tell him it's not happening. But Miltos isn't an idiot, he's got his strategy down pat. He knows my line is a test.

  'I'm not going anywhere, or looking elsewhere.' He kisses me. It's an all-right kiss, not an amazing kiss, but he didn't leave the booth, so he gets some points for at least pretending to be a gentleman. And then he whispers in my ear, 'Is there any chance you might change your mind?' Oh my God, the man is cheeky and persistent and somewhat hilarious. I have to give him more points for trying. I mean, a man's got to at least ask.

  The ouzo should be wearing off now, and I should be boarding my astral flight home to East Bentleigh, but somehow I am a teenager and I believe Miltos when he says, 'We can just cuddle.' Does a man ever mean that? Do other women believe them when they say it? How old are you before you recognise immediately that it's a lie, and cuddling never satisfies anyone unless it comes after sex?

  The next thing I know I'm in a little hotel, flat on my back with a pair of big white Y-fronts in my face and Miltos is in them and I'm in my thermal underwear neck to ankle and I'm thinking this is not where I'm supposed to be, and what would my James think if he knew or God forbid saw this scene, and with Zorba playing in the background I lift myself out from under Miltos and off the bed, then grab my clothes, putting my pants on inside out, not even knowing how I get the zip done up. I want to travel back to East Bentleigh the way I came, but I'm waiting at a bloody bus stop and it's the middle of the night and I don't have a ticket or money because I didn't think to bring any with me. But then I'm on my way, leaving Delphi, Spiros, Miltos and their olives behind.

  I astral fly over Athens and see the lights on the Acropolis, and it's beautiful, but I feel like I've missed the real tourist experience and I'm disappointed in myself for that as much as for my behaviour in Delphi.

  ♥

  The next morning I woke up feeling almost jet-lagged, although I'd had a good eight hours' sleep. The kids were staying at their cousins' place so there was no lash pulling to wake me early. I felt strange about the dream but put it down to the wonderful time I'd had with Sylvia at the Greek restaurant. I channelled my energies into hooking up with Shelley before lunch and moving into a house in St Kilda as soon as possible.

  nine

  Two snow peas in a wok

  As I walked down Eildon Road I liked the tree-lined street and the quiet of the area. It was peaceful, and when I saw the house I felt at home. I was so pleased to be moving to St Kilda, into a house that was close to cafes and the tram, and with a flatmate too, so I wouldn't get lonely. Everything had fallen into place. There was no such thing as coincidence, and bumping into Shelley the night before had proven that again.

  She met me halfway up the driveway with a cup of coffee in her hand.

  'Hihi, I've been waiting for you. So, this is it,' and she waved her hand around the garden.

  'I love it!' was all I could say.

  'Let me show you around, you might just like the rest of it as well.'

  Shelley's family were obviously loaded and she offered me the room at a ridiculous price. Who was I to argue? I offered to do the cleaning and take care of the garden, ready to plant herbs as soon as I could. This was better than Coogee: I had a yard now, and could sit in it to read or sunbake or whatever, if I wanted to. It was much better than a balcony. I took a photo of the bird bath and texted it to the girls.

  'Would you like a Pimm's, Peta?'

  'Love one, thanks.' It was like the old days and having gin'n'tonics with Alice. It made me like Shelley even more.

  She brought out our drinks and as we sat in the back garden with birds chirping away and the sun setting, we shared bits about ourselves as a get-to-know-you session. I had to confess I didn't know much about the industry she worked in and I'd always been a bit suspicious of stockbrokers.

  'Isn't the stockbroking world very corporate and competitive and, sorry, but just about making money?'

  'Essentially yes, but there are a few of us who are interested in corporate responsibility and do pro bono work with community organisations and so on. Most brokers aren't like that, though, and most of them are men, which means I'm around money-obsessed blokes all day who just want a meaningless shag of a night. But I'm not in it forever. I'll do some good work for some good people and then take my skills elsewhere.'

  Shelley sounded okay, and when she told me she collected handbags and shoes, I knew we would get on perfectly. She also liked watching TV to relax, sleeping in on the weekends and food. Later that night, when I'd moved my stuff in, we went to a local Chinese restaurant for salt'n'pepper squid and talked some more.