Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Susie McLean Dishes On Her Love Life, Says Her Date With Marcello Was A Disappointment!

Susie McLean is taking to her Arena Blog to dish on this week's episode of The Real Housewives of Melbourne. Susie McLean opens up about her love life and shares on thoughts on her date with Marcello. Susie writes:

"After two divorces and the end of a long term relationship two and half years ago, I find myself single again. I am slowly venturing back into the dating jungle, lost and with what one would call “some baggage”… If we’re talking weight limits, I would probably never be accepted onto a domestic flight. I have been on a few dates and am receptive to meeting someone “new”. The thing is, the dating world has changed so much and now my definition of “lost” has moved from the metaphysical to the physical…. I don’t know where to start.

The rapid development of technology namely in the fields of communication, the Internet and particularly social media, has certainly played a part. When I was last single there were no mobile phones, there were only car phones and those who had them were, well… wankers. At best there were answering machines. Communication in those halcyon days was kept to a minimum and I think I preferred it that way. I think there is an epidemic of over communication. A complete love story can be dramatically condensed and cut short just by the sheer level of contact. Nowadays you can meet, woo, marry, procreate, retire and die all in the space of 25 text messages and 38 emojis.

On the strength of all this confusion, I concluded that it would be best if I just opted out. I would file the “Love and Romance” chronicles under “Too Hard Basket”, put the whole painful business behind me and simply move on. Well, as they say.. “It will happen when you least expect it”… Sure enough, on a recent trip with the girls to Byron Bay for Gamble’s wedding. It happened. “It” came in the form of a rather dashing looking Italian man named Marcello. I was sitting with the girls in the pub one minute .. and the next thing I knew there was a guy standing right in front of me with a choir of angels behind his head! I was instantly impressed by the confidence he displayed in breaking into a large group of women, deep in conversation (we were talking about the weather) to introduce himself. I have to say the pièce de résistance though was his opening line, “I couldn’t help but notice you, what is your name?” That’ll do it, take a seat! To me it was up there with “you had me at hello”. I felt shy and flushed in his presence and I reverted straight back to being 16 years of age again. So uncool. I felt tongue tied and was asking stupid questions, like “what have you had to drink?” .When he replied, “two gin and tonics”, I asked if he was depressed (gin, I’d been told is apparently a depressant).. More uncool. I was shocked when he actually asked for my number. Texts were shot back and forth well into the night until I declared that I had a wedding to go to the next day and I would need to sleep at some point.

At the wedding and with Chyka’s encouragement, I sent an unsolicited text. If done often enough this practice can also coincide with training for the Extreme Breath Holding Championships!. When there was no immediate response, I fell apart like a cheap suit. My confidence was immediately restored 10 minutes later when he text me back, but by then I had already entered the carnival of text exchanges. A place of exhilaration, adrenaline rushes and white knuckle rides. A roller coaster, ghost train and shooting target gallery, the main attractions.

So began a relationship based on a text exchange scenario and under Chyka’s tutelage, sans emojis… a risky playing field in terms of emotional interpretation at the best of times. Meeting someone from another state also poses its problems not just by the inconvenience of passing time and distance, but the inaccurate impression that is subsequently formed. Easily done when you’re only going by a few Facetune altered selfies and a series of cryptic text messages. Is it any wonder your recollection of the other party can become so distorted? I suppose though, I wasn’t too concerned about that. I’ve been on date nights before where I’ve returned from a bathroom break to find a total stranger sitting opposite me… and he was my husband! After my recent reluctant foray into online dating, I was a little excited at the prospect of returning home and breaking it to my boys that I would no longer require their technical assistance in seeking a companion. I would triumphantly declare… “See mummy can find dates all by herself!” There were some red flags, but I’d become so attuned to ignoring them in my past. Little did I know that these red flags would be like walking through Shanghai in the middle of a Chinese festival! When Marcello text and said that he wanted to see me again and was coming to Melbourne, I allowed myself the rare privilege of actually getting excited at the prospect. I decided I would stay positive and go with what I thought I already knew about the fella. He seemed to tick a lot of the boxes..

Sex = Male, no detectable man boobs (at least not bigger than mine) ✔️
Age = Appropriate ie. legal ✔️
Attractive = Neat (does up his top button), beard (I like beards), practices good personal hygiene  ✔️
Spiritual = Has lived in Byron Bay for 5 years, something must have rubbed off ✔️
Italian = Passionate, romantic, sexy, good lovers (stereotype, but I’m hopeful)… accent, quality shoes  ✔️
Generous = Bought me a drink… then refrained from drinking it. ✔️
Educated = PHD in Environmental Science… intelligent , conscious, caring, sensitive (wouldn’t hurt a fly, so you would assume not another human) ✔️
Likes to travel = Willing to go to the trouble of travelling interstate to see me! ✔️✔️✔️

I had workshopped the prospect of Marcello coming to Melbourne with my fellow singleton and wingman, Janet. Coincidently, Janet had just received correspondence from Christopher, a guy she had been dating. Both being new to this dating game, Janet and I decided to go with the safety in numbers thing and do a double date. Meeting the “boys”, we thought it best to have some sort of code to indicate that one of us needed to take our leave from the table and adjourn for counsel. We had to go for something subtle, otherwise we would look like we were directing air traffic on a tarmac, all that would be missing were the fluro high vis vests! The old kick under the table never works, too hard to gauge the distance and you can end up kicking the wrong person. A few attempts at baseball signals were choreographed before we concluded that after a couple of wines, neither of us were going to remember them anyway. We ended up settling on the discreet “earlobe twig”.

Then the boys arrived. Christopher had gone to the effort and dressed to the nines. It was like he had received his dressing tips directly from Prince Charles’ valet. I was pleased for Janet, it was a good sign. Marcello rocked in shortly after and the juxtaposition of their dress, could not have been more obvious. The white sneakers, though certainly relevant in terms of today’s fashion trends, screamed “I’ve gone for comfort and basically couldn’t give a shit” or worse, “I’m planning on getting out of here real fast!”. Either one gave me little encouragement. This was supplemented with some very hostile body language that incorporated tightly crossed arms, that I found very telling. I asked Marcello if he was cold… I certainly didn’t mean his temperature! Something was off in the “mone” department… pheromones. hormones. There simply was just no chemistry.

Stilted and awkward conversation followed around the components of infant formula… sexy chat. You could charge $5.25 per minute just for the stimulation of hearing it. We were all relieved by the distraction of ordering our meals. I was so thankful to have a diversion that I could have sprung up and done it for every table in the restaurant. Marcello thought he would take the opportunity to get to know me better by asking a few basic questions. I was annoyed. I thought that we had already covered these topics. I’m such a chronic over sharer at the best of times, I’m sure he would have got those answers in the first sentence when we met. It seemed to me it was a case of him not caring enough to listen the first time or that he was just being facetious..

Janet, bless her cotton socks, tried to spice things up by pulling up Marcello for staring at my breasts… I prayed for death. The food mercifully arrived and I was saved by a platter of deep fried calamari and a trio of dips. I felt for the waiter as he attempted to deposit the meals onto the table. The plates were still in transit before Marcello had already started to tuck in! What followed are some of those images in life that you just can’t erase from memory no matter how hard you try. I was given a demonstration of probably the most appalling table manners I had ever seen. In fairness, the man should be commended for managing to consume an entire meal (including the starters) in three bites. The sheer level of consumption led me to believe he was making stores for hibernation and by the look of the particles of scalloped potatoes deposited in his beard, definitely utilising all his catchment areas. I think this man may have been reincarnated from the court of King Henry VIII. I was anticipating, that any minute now he would throw his chicken bone over his left shoulder, drag me onto his lap, grab me by the throat and devour my cleavage with his greasy chops! I suddenly felt inappropriately dressed for the occasion. In hindsight I should have popped into “Creative Costumes” and picked up a little medieval wench number, accessorised by a tankard of frothy beer!

There was obviously no verbal communication from Marcello during this period of consumption (read with Richard Attenborough’s accent) other than a few grunts and the very audible sounds of the mastication of his food. Janet, being the trooper that she is, was not going to give up easily and by hook or by crook she was going to get that conversation flowing! Bless. Next came the classic matchmaker question “what sort of a woman do you see yourself with, Marcello?”. The old text book “good person, generous, kind, great sense of humour and attractive” would have been a good response. Even a simple “Susie” would have had its charms, but no, it wasn’t to be. Instead we got a reading from a catalogue list for mail order brides from circa 1856 AD. Marcello kept banging on about the various categories of females as potential mates, ranging from the “sex material” to the “not as attractive girlfriend material”. At first I thought he was joking. I mean seriously… WTF! Three wines down and Janet had re-christened Marchello’s name to “Ma-shallow”, she was spot on in her intuitiveness. My patience was spent and I immediately had to apply the SOS signal and abort. After a series of discreet “earlobe twigs” and with no response from Janet, I began to panic and by the end was literally tearing my ears off!  When I finally got Janet away from the table, I exploded in a fit of unbridled rage and had to take control of every fibre of my being not to go back to the table and clock the guy. I had to get out of there fast and in my haste came up with the lamest of excuses… that my kids had text me to say they were having a party. Seriously, not in a million years would my boys call me to come home and break up a party! If they were seeking numbers, the local members of the ladies’ auxiliary, would probably get a call before me.

I was out of there and I was taking Janet with me, there was no way I was leaving her in that cess pool of testosterone. We ran like two escapees from Alcatraz, bursting through the doors of the restaurant with the wind in our hair. I was running through a whole gamut of emotions, as we spilled out on to Swan Street. I felt angry, insulted, humiliated, embarrassed and degraded, but mostly what I felt was disappointment. Not bitter disappointment, it was just that sad disappointment that you get when you realise you have got it so wrong… Why couldn’t he have just been nice?

Susie xo"

What do you think about Susie’s blog?

The Real Housewives of Melbourne Season 3 airs Sunday nights at 8:30pm on Arena

Source/Photo Credit: Arena

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