This post is no doubt going to drive me deep into spinsterhood. Leave me dateless from here forward. At least until I’ve relocated permanently to Australia. Which I will do dammit!
I finally arrived in Sydney 40+ hours after departing Seattle. The only saving grace on my second leg was an empty middle seat between me and row companion, Angelo. I don’t think I’d have survived the 14+ hour flight without the extra space to stretch and move about. (If you recall I barely made it through the 4 hour car trip to Oregon a few months ago without some intense cramping.)
Angelo was returning home after studying alternative medicine and healing. We chatted in length about his studies and methods, what he intended to use it for. I found myself amused that my travel companion be a healer. I was after all running off to heal my spirit. Kismet I’d say. Perhaps if I was sitting next to the Catholic nun one row back it would have felt different. Like a terrible pre-surgery omen.
Once I landed I made my way through customs, declaring my cashews and trail mix. Ooops! Nuts is on the customs list of questionables. I was sent down the line to the biological sniffing dog. Perhaps coming from Seattle they assume I’d be stupid enough to carry marijuana. My college roommate’s older sister actually did that when traveling from Brazil to the US- Seriously, completely crazy as far as I’m concerned. But it was years ago before the stringent rules, 911, even body scanners.
I also got the bomb testing rub down later on my way to and from Brisbane. I swear I must look sketchy. Just like when I traveled to India. I was the one pulled out of line and bags searched. Maybe I just look like the innocent trusting sort, meshugana enough to carry contraband for another. Never! Looks must be deceiving.
So I made my way to The Recruiter’s hotel. The cabbie gave me a quick tour, pointing out a few sights- St. Mary’s Cathedral, Parliament etc. I’d shared I only had 6 hours in Sydney before turning around to leave again.
Once I laid eyes on TR I knew what a smart choice I’d made to come. She was a sight for sore eyes- I’d missed her. And being able to shower and clean up felt heavenly. I’d checked my bag straight through to Brisbane so I wouldn’t have to drag it about on such a tight schedule. This is where having a girlfriend that wears the same size clothes you do seriously comes in handy. I felt refreshed, not to mention, looked absolutely fabulous. She has great Taste.
We headed down to the Harbor- took in the Opera House, Sydney Harbour Bridge and the sites. And by sites I mean the men. Seriously, if I had known I’d have come ages ago. Australian men are gorgeous.
This is where spinsterhood will arrive…..Aussie men kick the living hell out of American men. The shear testosterone made me feel female by proxy. They are actually MEN- rugged with the most incredible asses and thighs, OMG! These men work hard and it shows. Even the homeless man had kicking legs!
Please don’t think that just because I haven’t so much as held a man’s hand in 6 years this comes from desperation of any kind. That was a choice. Nor can I be accused of type casting since Australian nationalities cover the globe. Facts are facts – they are by far the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. Eye candy everywhere! We were practically giddy school girls. Decorum lost.
(Insert Dock Workers in shorts photo)
In the essence of fairness I love men with fascial hair even if it is 5 o’clock shadow. Oh, and some chest hair too please. Not to mention tattoos are not a deterrent for me either. There are plenty of both here.
I think Red may have put it best. It is the last bastion of real in the western world, where men are men and women are women.” Trust me these men have Queens. Sign me up for duty immediately. I wish I could explain but I didn’t think it possible that such a place as this existed. So much rugged handsome everywhere, beautiful, tough, dangerous like the landscape.
We finished our time walking through a street fair and riding the Ferry out to Manly Park. It was right up my alley – beach, street fair, public art and shops. When I return to Sydney I must go back and then I could go to the amusement park and perhaps climb to the top of the bridge. Finally we hopped into the car for the airport and our flight to Brisbane.
Happily this was a short flight and we grabbed a cab to our hotel. Our driver informed us that when an Aussie likes you they “take the piss”, give you shit, banter and play. It is really a compliment if they fuck with you. (Note to self: My kind of place). He also assured us that if we got in a pinch, arrested in a bar fight he’d gladly bail us out. He was a recent widow and father of three girls. He suggested a few places we should head to for our night on the town.
(Incidentally, I have a friend from high school who lives in Australia. When asked about where I traveled she referred to Brisbane as BrisVegas.)
We got dressed up to go OUT. Mind you at this point I’d been up 48 hours and counting with only 4 hours sleep on the plane to Sydney. And I was wide awake. I kept expecting to crash, completely tuckered. But I was already falling hard for OZ and didn’t want to miss a moment.
I put on something nice. The recruiter helped me do my makeup which I hardly ever wear anymore. I didn’t even pack any. Over the trip I discovered quite a few things that should’ve been in my bag for Australia. TR came to the rescue each time. Anyway, I felt very beautiful by the time we left the room. It’s been awhile since I felt that way. TR said I glowed, my smile huge.
We stepped on the elevator, crowded to the max with guys in Jerseys. There was a big Rugby game about to start Australia vs New Zealand. We squeezed on. The guys ribbed their buddy up front. “What?” he said in reply “I wasn’t going to tell them no.” Everyone laughed. On our ride up earlier a man comment how lovely we smelled.
Along the waterfront we saw these purple flowering trees, honestly spectacular, and my favorite color is purple after all. However, we were told later that if you squeeze the blossoms they squirt out a horrid smell- the perfect way to torture siblings. Australia is full of dichotomies.
We decided on a Bier Bar, packed chock full of people and settled into seats TR scouted out. She asked if the seats where available. Immediately, the guy sitting there informed her that seat’d be $50. He laughed and we sat down. I informed him I would have aimed higher. He may have even gotten a kiss out of the deal. Never know if you don’t ask.
This group was a blast. Turns out Australian woman are as fabulous as the men. They are beautifully feminine and strong, highly independent. They can hold their own. With mouths that rival mine- yep, I’d fit in here just fine. I was introduced to a fabulous Cider, since Beer was only going to get me in trouble, and I didn’t really want to drink scotch all night.
Over the course of the evening the group grew larger and we took over another table, kept on taking and laughing. A new group of guys joined our revelry.
This is where things got really fun. We were asked if we like “Salt”. Knowing I was being set up in true foreigner fashion I gladly answered yes. The guys were reticent to explain, the joke more fun concealed. After making no headway I said I assume you mean giving a blow job. “Close” Oral sex yes but not for a man. Ah…..now this is where I was confused. I thought it meant giving, in which case my answer would be no. If it were receiving then well, YES!
Then we began to learn the finer points of Rugby. I already knew a fair bit-having had friends on the rugby team in college. Most of who happened to be Hawaiian. And my brother played a bit in college as well. But it was all new to TR and she was particularly interested in knowing about how the scrum worked. She was circulating the bar to get 16 (8 on 8) together for a good scrumming. Heads ducked down, knees bent, arms about one another.
Remember I told you I only get hit on when with TR. Tonight would be no different. She has a way of getting people to talk about themselves, come out of their shell, Scrum in a bar. It is all good fun and she is truly effervescent.
There was one bloke (can I use that word?) in particular I found myself attracted to, one of those chemistry things. TR said it reminded her of the attraction with my first husband, something I’ve only rarely experienced. The last time was in Munich at the night club, P Eins (P1). In the back of the cab and on the dance floor he became one of “my verses unlived“.
Noice was beautiful if not a little reserved at first. When I was growing up “Nice” was a way to exclaim something was Fing awesome (Bitching if you were on the west coast. Look it was the 80s). But with an Australian accent Nice becomes ‘Noice” which just happens to be close to my blokes name, I assure you he lives up to the inference. “Noice” indeed!
So Noice, TR and I took off for the nightclubs, dancing was in order. I suspect he hoped to take us both home with him. But that wasn’t going to happen for either of us. I mean we love one another but not like that. But you wouldn’t be able to blame the man for fantasizing.
We climbed into a cab to make our way over to the dance clubs. Noice was riding up front with the driver and TR and I in back. A few minutes from the curb he asked the driver if he’d mind him jumping in back with us. Before waiting a reply he climbed back sliding between the two of us. Sandwiched much like he’d be later on the dance floor.
I had no idea if his interest matched mine. I hoped it did. There were moments where it felt as though his gaze lingered just a moment longer interlocked with mine. He’d smile and his reef water eyes would glitter. Melty. For a split second I’d forget where I was.
We climbed from the cab and were fighting our way through the crowd when he took my hand to guide me through. I notice with TR he cupped her hand but with me he slid his fingers intertwined with mine. It felt amazing, commanding, protective, masculine. I felt like a woman. I gave in, gave over to the sudden heat, a tingling sensation climbing my body. I let it sink in. Let him lead the way, keeping pace with his stride, swaying closer as we slid around people. I didn’t want to let go.
He was anything but intimidated by me. And had no problem going after what we wanted, as witnessed by the quick kiss he planted as we jumped out of the cab at another club later near his hotel.
Once inside we had a few drinks and TR excused herself leaving the two of us alone. Neither quite knew what to do next. An awkward moment passed. It was decision time. This time I wouldn’t deny myself anything. I’ve vowed never to allow that to occur again. I wouldn’t miss a chance at something lovely. And I didn’t. I took a chance and remembered the grace of chemistry and how tender passion can be. I remembered I love touch, lost for the moment in his embrace I let go and swam.