Avoiding Mr Right

by Anita Heiss

  For about a month it was loads of fun, but also addictive and before I knew it I was spending hours every night responding to emails and aquarium gifts, vampire bites and likeness quizzes. It was a great way to keep on top of what everyone was doing, though, and better than trying to fit it all into three separate phone conversations once a week. We were all on the same Facebook page at the same time. I rationalised the time spent online by saying I was being sociable and maintaining my friendships, which could easily deteriorate in twelve months if I didn't make the effort.

  Sylvia was on there as well and sent out an invitation to a fundraiser she was involved in for the Black Dog Institute, an organisation supporting people with depression. She really was a mixed bag. It would be great to go for a night out while supporting a worthwhile charity at the same time, I thought, so of course I accepted. It was at the Westin Hotel in the heart of the city.

  ♥

  'Wow, you look fantastic,' I said to Sylvia, who had lost the dark kohl look for something more conservative. I only found out then that she was on the organising committee and thought she should dress a little less poetically than usual.

  We sat down at a table with some of her friends. Everyone was having little conversations in pairs, and trying to listen to the MC at the same time.

  'The fashions are very different here, aren't they?' I observed. And as I looked around the grand ballroom, I noticed that everyone was wearing black. Everyone.

  'Yes, Sydney's fashion has a more coastal influence, while Melbourne's is more diverse.' I couldn't see how everyone wearing the same colour was a demonstration of diversity, but I decided not to mention it, and changed the topic instead.

  'Hey, why haven't you got a boyfriend?' I was curious that Sylvia, who was interesting and intelligent, had never mentioned a man. I'd been thinking that if she were gay, I could set her up with Josie.

  'I have got a boyfriend,' she said, almost defensively.

  'Oh, sorry, didn't mean to pry.'

  'That's fine, I just don't let him out much,' she said with a sly smile. I could see Sylvia being in charge of the social calendar for both of them, like she was for me.

  'Oh, you're hilarious. Why haven't you mentioned him before?'

  'Well, Rick's a muso, and oddly insular and I'm really oddly outgoing, so we don't do a lot of things together that involve other people. We're great when we're by ourselves. He finds me a little too out-there when I'm with my friends.'

  'I can't imagine why.' I smiled at her.

  'You can meet him soon if you like. We might go see him play or something one night, if you're into it.'

  'Sounds great.' I hadn't been to much live music for years, and only really ever saw bands at Klub Koori events organised by Koori Radio.

  'I'm in charge of the silent auction, so I better go check out if anyone's bidding yet.' Sylvia got up and took me with her.

  We strolled around the table and there were some interesting pieces to bid on: a framed pic of Kylie, a bronze World Cup Soccer trophy, a Russell Crowe Gladiator print, and a framed autographed pic of Jessica Mauboy from the 2006 Australian Idol final. I went to put a bid on Jessica, but as my hand reached for the pen, so did another. I grabbed it first and wrote my name and mobile. I only bid a modest amount because I hadn't actually gone there prepared for an auction. The next person would easily beat my offer by at least fifty dollars. I put the pen down and the hand, belonging to a nicely cuff-linked wrist and even nicer looking guy, picked it up. I looked at him.

  'Hi, I'm Lee,' he said, and offered me his hand to shake.

  'Hi, I'm celibate,' I blurted, then cringed with embarrassment. I shook his hand roughly like a man and let it drop.

  'That's an interesting name. Does it have a special meaning?'

  'Actually my name's Peta,' I said, burning with shame, and not knowing where to look. He was so hot he was making me perspire.

  'So, the celibacy is just . . . ?'

  'A national crisis, obviously.' I was trying to be funny to take the focus off me being an idiot.

  'You being celibate is a national emergency for sure. I'm in the SES, so maybe I can help you with it, if you like.'

  'I'm sure you could, but you really can't. Thanks anyway.' I was tongue-tied like a teenager with a crush on the most popular boy at school, and just walked off.

  Black tie fundraisers were clearly great places to meet men, for those in the market. Everyone there was supporting a worthy cause, they looked great, and the wealthy guys could always be found hanging around the silent auction table.

  ♥

  When I woke up in the morning I had knickers on and nothing else. I threw on a T-shirt and walked into the mess that was the lounge room and saw my dress flung over the back of the chunky lounge chair. My shoes and stockings were just inside the front door, and my pink wrap was on the telephone table. My handbag was on the ground with coins strewn everywhere. My camera was in my bag, minus its cover, and the hundred dollars I had withdrawn at the pub we went to after the dinner was missing. It must have fallen out in the cab on the way home. I felt like I was still drunk as I jumped in the shower. I didn't bother using the four minute timer because I knew I probably wouldn't be able to stand up that long anyway, but I was hoping it would sober me up. I was supposed to meet Josie at nine to go shopping.

  Dressed and feeling slightly better I went to leave the house. Shelley was in Sydney visiting friends so I didn't have to worry about tidying up with any sense of urgency. Then I realised to my horror that the front door was deadlocked, and the keys weren't in the lock, as they usually were. I searched the house, my handbag, under the tables, lounge, and telephone table. I panicked. I heard the neighbour's kids playing outside on the footpath but I was too embarrassed to ask them if the keys were in the door. How would that look? 'Excuse me, are my keys in the door? I'm locked in . . .' I had to find another way of getting the keys. They had to be in the door – I did get inside, after all. We never used the back door and Shelley hadn't given me a key for it. The only thing I could do was climb through the bathroom window. I'd need a leg-up even to reach it, and it was so tiny I was sure to get stuck. I started to cry with the stress of it all and called James.

  'What do you want me to do about it, Peta?' He wasn't the warm, caring James I'd expected – the one who'd offer to ring the local locksmith to let me out.

  'I don't want you do to anything. I just wanted to tell you is all.'

  'Well, if you were so drunk you locked yourself in the house, what else were you drunk enough to do?'

  'There were no men involved last night, if that's what you're asking me, James. Sorry I called.' And I hung up. The last thing I wanted was a long-distance domestic argument while I was suffering a terrible hangover and locked in my own house.

  I took my shoes off, put one foot on the rim of the bath and the other foot on the toilet seat, hoping it wouldn't crack, then pushed myself up out through the window and fell into the bottlebrush plant below. There! I didn't need James after all. Dusting myself off, I got the keys out of the door, thankful that no-one had found them and robbed the house. Then I texted Josie to let her know I'd be late and ran to catch the tram to the city.

  When I found her she was buying a dress for a hot date she had with some woman she'd let off a parking ticket. She even got a matching lipstick.

  'This woman is hot, hot, hot!' Josie said as the girl at the make-up counter attempted to do her face.

  'She must be,' I said as I watched Josie let her brows be brushed.

  At lunch in the Melbourne Centre my mobile rang. I didn't recognise the number.

  'Hi, I've got something of yours.'

  'What?'

  'Jessica Mauboy. You bought it, remember?' It was Lee, the cuff-linked SES guy from the fundraiser.

  'Shit, did I? I didn't pay for it – I didn't hear them call it out. I must have left by then.'

  'No, you were still there – it looked like you and your celibacy were having a great time.'
/>   Fuck, I mouthed to Josie. I was so embarrassed.

  'Well, thank you for picking it up for me. I should get it from you and give you the money.'

  'No worries. It was no trouble, and it guaranteed I'd see you again.' He was going to be disappointed.

  'Actually, how did you get my number?'

  'You wrote your number next to the bid, remember?'

  'Oh yes, of course I did.' I hoped he was the only one who'd made a note of it.

  fourteen

  Italy on eight hours' sleep

  I met Lee in the early evening at Pellegrino's, an espresso bar in the city. At first it seemed to be an odd choice, with its bar stool service and very basic menu, given that Lee was a classy guy with plenty of cash, but apparently Pellegrino's was an institution, like so many places in Melbourne. Everything here seemed to be an institution or an icon, or a must-see and must-do. I wasn't overly impressed with having to sit on a bar stool at the counter, but the Italian food was as authentic as any I'd ever eaten, never having actually been to Italy.

  'The minestrone is delicious, how's yours?'

  'The spaghetti Napolitano is bellisimo!' Lee said with a mock Sicilian accent, kissing his fingers like an Italian you'd see on a television show.

  'Thanks for bringing me here – it's like a little Italian cafe isn't it, very traditional.'

  'Oh, someone would've brought you here on a date eventually.'

  'I'm not dating,' I said. 'I have a boyfriend.'

  'Where?' Lee looked around. 'Was he at the fundraiser? I thought it was just you and your celibacy.' He laughed and I cringed.

  'Okay, so I deserved that. No, he's in Sydney. We're doing the long-distance thing.'

  'So you're being faithful, not celibate.'

  'Same thing.' I took another spoonful of soup, not wanting to discuss the difference between celibacy and faithfulness with Lee. He was too dangerously cute to talk to about sex, or not having sex, and I knew I would sound like a complete flip to anyone who didn't really know me. Even James had struggled with the concept and he loved me unconditionally.

  Lee was staring right at me.

  'What?' I asked.

  'You've got some sauce just . . . there.' He wiped the side of my mouth and I went weak. Was that all it took to make me love fickle? A wipe of food from my grubby face?

  I liked Lee. He was hot, and funny, and gentle, and single, and sitting there in front of me. It was a recipe for disaster on the celibacy front and I knew it, and knowing it meant I had to remove myself from the situation.

  I looked at my watch. 'I think my tram's due shortly.'

  'I'll walk you to Bourke Street, then.' Lee was also chivalrous, which made him all the more sexy. The men in Melbourne really were different to those in Sydney.

  When we reached the tram stop we stood awkwardly and waited.

  'Do you want to come back to my place for a nightcap?' Lee asked.

  'A nightcap? Do people actually use that phrase any more?'

  'Well, I did.'

  'Yes, but don't you mean, Do you want to come back to my place for a shag?'

  'Well, yes, I was trying to be a gentleman, but okay, do you want to come back to my place for a shag?' He raised his eyebrows and grinned, as if to say, Say yes!

  'If you think you can trade a ten-buck pasta for my celibacy, you are so wrong. I'd have to have had some dessert as well for that.' We both laughed, and he leaned in and kissed me gently on the mouth goodnight just before the #96 tram arrived.

  'You're wicked, Peta, but I like it. Now get on your chariot and stop teasing innocent men in the street. And take Jessica with you.' I'd completely forgotten about the photo I'd bought at the auction.

  'The money, wait, here . . .' The tram's bells were ringing.

  'It's a gift.' He was a nice guy. A guy who went to fundraisers, who dined in restaurants because he liked the food, not because they were fancy, and who was kind and funny and generous, giving gifts just for the sake of it.

  I smiled all the way back to St Kilda, clutching Jessica tightly and wondering if I would see Lee again. I was still smiling when I finished taking my make-up off and went to bed. I closed my eyes thinking of Lee but knew that I shouldn't be. I remembered Lee's soft lips and the hot rush of blood that suddenly turns cold as I hear a countdown and everyone screaming and cheering, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BANG.

  It's midnight, New Year's Eve, but I don't know what year it is. I'm at Piazza della Signoria in Florence and everyone's throwing bottles into the middle of the cobblestone piazza, but there are no fireworks or 'Auld Lang Syne' like back at home. I turn to the guy next to me and it's Lee and I kiss him, because it's New Year's Eve and because he's there and because in my dream I'm not celibate, and there's no James, and I've been given a second chance and he looks good enough to eat.

  'I'm Luigi and you are bella.' Lee-Luigi is there and I'm beautiful and everything is fine by me.

  'Yes, Luigi, I am.' And we kiss again. In my dreams my self-esteem is good.

  'I am a security guard and I must go check the city, you come with me, on my bike.'

  'Okay,' I say, because I know I'm astral travelling and don't need travel insurance and I'll wake up in the morning and Lee-Luigi won't expect me to make him breakfast. But I know I'm doing things that girls should never do when they are travelling alone, things I would never do if I were awake travelling.

  I put my arms around Lee-Luigi's waist and hold tight as we cruise the streets on his moped until we stop outside the Uffizi Gallery.

  'I must check here, you come inside with me?' He helps me off the bike.

  It seems less daring to go into the gallery than to stay out on the street by myself. Lee-Luigi flashes his torch into the darkness and I catch a glimpse of some Rubens posters and I'm tempted to ask for a complete tour, but just past the entrance he stops, and so do I.

  I've heard about hot-blooded Italian men who love women and know how to romance them. Lee-Luigi is the kind of guy who loves women, who worships women, who wines and dines and does wicked things to women. I bet Lee-Luigi tells women all the time that he loves them. Lee-Luigi is love fickle for sure, and the only thing worse than one love fickler in a relationship is two love ficklers. But I'm dreaming, so who cares anyway, and we make out for hours. As he gently kisses my neck he starts to peel my clothes off and I just stand still, a willing participant in astral fornication, but then suddenly the lights go on and we rush out the door and when I go to step back onto the moped, my foot lands on the cold bathroom floor and it seems I've also been sleepwalking.

  ♥

  I met Josie for coffee on Brunswick Street the next morning feeling completely jet-lagged. I ordered a double shot soy latte and an Italian pastry.

  'I need to tell you something.' I was bursting to tell Josie about my astral travelling experiences.

  'What?' she asked, only half interested.

  'I travel in my sleep.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I eat a certain cuisine, and then that night I travel in my sleep to the country it comes from.'

  'What? Like astral travelling?' She suddenly seemed much more interested.