Sven's life in Oz

Sometimes writing is good to get things off my chest. Other times, it can be good to put off writing about something until I have thought about it some more. At these times getting it down on paper is more like ordering my thoughts; like running them through a sieve to get all the crap out before I can make anything out of them. This is one of those times.

I am having a good time being single. However, lately it seems that the whole world wants to settle down and get married. Every man I meet is looking for a boyfriend, which is fine, but when I say that I’m not that guy things go decidedly sour very quickly. Most recently a guy actually told me off for leading him on because, I can only assume, I didn’t tell him right at the start that I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. (The idea of ‘looking for a long-term relationship’ is odd to me anyway – I always thought these things happened organically. It appears I was wrong.) This latest episode got me wondering whether everyone is looking to settle down, or if I am the cause of my own problems. Turns out it might be a bit of both.

Last week in the pub, I lamented my sorry tales to the NEC, who told me that my problem was being too nice. “You are friendly,” he said. Ordinarily it would be a compliment. “You need to be more shrewd. You can see why people get the wrong idea. Don’t text back straight away; leave them hanging for a while. They’ll get the message.” The problem is I’m crap at that kind of thing. I like to text back straight away or I forget – just ask my sister. I adore her, but I’m rubbish at keeping in touch. If I don’t do it immediately, you’ll be waiting till Christmas to hear from me. Whatever the relative merits of playing games, I hate it when people do it to me and I’m dreadful at doing it to anyone else.

When I discussed it over cocktails with my friend, Sarah, we came out with quite a different answer. “You’re not too nice: you just can’t help it. It’s not your fault you are charming,” she said. Of course people would want to settle down with me, the conversation went, I’m freakin’ fantastic. I’m a victim of my own loveliness, it seems. Whether it’s true or not (and there are days when I assure you it most certainly is not), friends who can take your crushed confidence and turn it into ego-restoring compliments like that should be treasured forever.

Finally I talked about it with James, and he looked at me incredulously. He often wonders what planet I live on, and this was definitely one of those times. He cut straight to the chase.
“People are looking for love,” he said. “Maybe you aren’t, but most people are. It’s what people do.”
He could always tell me what I needed to hear when I didn’t want to listen – in this case: “it’s not all about you”. I’m not too nice: if anything I’m rather selfish. But he made me see that there’s nothing wrong with that, so long as I remember that the rest of the world doesn’t necessarily see things my way. So you want to date me? I’m flattered, not faulty. Thanks but no thanks, and that’s all there is to it.

Right, what’s next?