4.3 Ten things you don’t know about me.

1. I like to iron. No like I realllllly like to iron. Preferably with a phone to my ear and a glass of wine elbow distance away. I don’t know how people could possibly hate such a laborious yet fulfilling task. Nothing enters that wardrobe with a wrinkle on my watch. Watch the settings for polyester versus pinot though – I’ve had a few disasters with that.

2. I’m an insanely jealous person. That triples when it comes to boyfriends and girls with really long hair. “Why is she commenting on his Instagram and putting kisses (xx’s) on his pics? Hrumpf!” All the way to, “Why is that girl’s hair SO long?! Is she fertilizing it with double-tap likes?” I hear this jealous rage comes with the star-sign territory of Leo but I call that lion shit. Girls with long hair were put on this planet to even out the psycho jealousy I have for my boyfriend.

3. I have 57 dresses. Ladies, trousers are for men. Dresses make life more fun. You can eat a huge meal in a dress, you can twirl around in a dress and you can scream as the wind blows your full pleated skirt around your ears. If you look fat in jeans then don’t wear them. If a tree falls in a forest and no-one sees it then… Get my dressy drift?

4. I used to only be able to write when I was drunk. It was the only time I felt confident enough to story tell and it poured out to the brim. Then I’d hit send and fill everyone’s inbox with intoxicated Lorenza. Each morning was like that chest clutching awakening of what-guy-did-I-make-out-with-last-night regret. Except there it was, hungover in bold, just salivating to be clicked.

5. I like running. A lot. I like to think I’m chasing the guys in front of me when I run. Seriously you should try it. Unless you’re a guy – then I suggest chasing women, although they run pretty slow. And hanging behind them to check out their butts is a bit weird but I see it happening a lot. So… Just do it.

6. I don’t know how many men I’ve dated. I’d say it’s on the hundreds. Hey, I said DATED. I don’t think I’m the type who could date the same person all my life. That would be like being told I could only eat chocolate ice cream for the rest of my life and that would mean missing out on mouth-orgasm-worthy salted caramel for all of eternity. Salty sweet tears of please no.

7. I vomited on a tram at 7pm wearing corporate work attire. Did someone say open bar and the age-of-binge-drinking? I’ll never forget the worried look on people’s faces trying to help me as I rushed out and coloured the Crown Casino pavement cheap shiraz red. The jacket came up just fine for when I sold it on Ebay. Wash everything you buy second hand, kids. And with some bleach.

8. Nearly every day I think about my long-term ex-boyfriends. Well maybe not January 1st when I was moaning on the couch and could only stomach 7/11 Slurpees all day. Priorities, people. Anyway it’s not like I consciously think about them, it’s just when they run past me on the Tan, or I contemplate living with a boy again and feel complete house cleaning fear.

9. I used to have a cat and it died. So now when people make jokes about me being a crazy cat lady – I just tell them that. I’d suggest any single female in their 30s to 40s do this as well. Tell people your cat died – not that you killed a cat. I once killed a cat but that’s a totally different story.

10. When I fall in love. I fall hard. I don’t know anyone else who becomes as obsessed, infatuated and in love as I do. I don’t know how I wipe up the emotional mess every time it doesn’t work out and get so excited about the next round of heartbreak to come. If only I looked after my heart the same way I looked after my iPhone. It would have less cracks and a protective covering to hold the pieces of my heart as it smashes to the pavement. Better to have been loved, unloved and dumped again than live in fear of being alone.

11. I like lists and happy endings and I’m really, really bad at maths.

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3.7 The 10 nastiest things men have said to me.

1. “You’re only pretty when you smile.”
Doesn’t everyone look better when they smile? So many people walk around looking like they’ve smelt something bad, but do I tell them their face looks like that? No. So, smile – because right now someone thinks you’re ugly.

2. “You’re Italian, so you must be hairy.” 
Yeah and I’ve got a salami in my handbag too. No really I do. That’s as silly as saying. “Oh you’re a dude – you must think about beer and sex all day”. Hmmm. Anyway I’m not – please refer to point 5 below.

3. “You don’t have thin legs… You’ve got sturdy legs.” 
True, I’m no Elle Macpherson-elevator-legs but girls take this stuff to chubby-legs heart. Well except when I wore that mini skirt last week and those short shorts today. I’ll be getting my leg guns out as long as I can, thank you, because I heard there’s a cut-off age for bum shorts once you’ve had a baby – said Britney Spears never.

4. “Your eyes are really big. Actually they’re too big.” 
Well sorry I won the Anne Hathaway genetics lottery Mr Perfect – having big eyes isn’t really a bad quality to have. I can see things like douche bags a mile away and bat my lashes out of tram tickets, so shoo! Go find a smaller owl-eyed girl to play with. (I’ve also had, “You’ve got eyes like a cow” multiple times, but this one’s easily fixed with a “Mooo”.)

5. “Your hair’s a bit thin on top – you’d better watch that.” 
I’ve graced this tendril topic before on my blog. Yes, I have thin hair, and yes, I dye my hair dark so my scalp looks a little Edward Scissorhands. But chances are you’ll be receding sooner than you can say “40th birthday party” so give this little haired Lorenza a rest.

6. “You’re much prettier in photos” 
This fella’s second language being English I tried to help him out with, “Do you mean that I’m photogenic?” But apparently no, he was adamant it was photos I looked better in than real life. Well Photoshop me! I’ll take that as a compliment, only people’s names that end in “Victoria’s Secret” have that on their CV.

7. “She’s only here for today, so make no emotional investment in her.” 
Nothing to do with dating this time, it was a freelance placement in an office full of muscle-laden men. It didn’t stop there. When I asked where the bathroom was, they told me I could pee in the bushes. Ahh male dominated offices – not for faint-bladdered.

8. “You look well European, you can’t be Australian.” (Cockney accent necessary). 
Ahh the British. Yes, we’re all blonde-haired, blue-eyed Lara Bingles down here love! Even with the brown hair I still get to ride a Kangaroo to school, so nerr.

9. “I’m attracted to you and I want to have sex with you but I don’t want you as a girlfriend.” 
I’m sure the look on my face at this point was only one thing: Confusion. I mean how could anyone not want me as a girlfriend? I’m awesome! Jokes aside, if only every guy was this forthright and honest I would have saved an awful lot of tight dresses and time.

10. “Your nose looks a lot bigger when you part your hair in the middle.”
Just kidding, no man said that! My Mum said it when I was 17 and I’ve had a side fringe ever since.

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3.4 Stop looking and you’ll meet the right one.

“Stop looking for a boyfriend and you’ll meet the right one.” This has been the most bullshit-in-ly, useless statement I’ve ever had paraded out front of me come drunk, high or broken waters. Ok err so maybe not that last one. Stop looking? Righto – Well what counts as looking – Catching a tram? Going to work? Going to bars? Going to the gym? I believe all these places have men in them, at them, gyrating at them, lifting weights and sweating at them. That tram ride was awful I tell you. You’re being a bit ridiculous really, you’re telling me to stay in house, darn a few socks and iron my rock hard heart away?

OK, ok, I’ve got it. I’m not meant to be looking and I’m not meant to be wondering. But you see I find it pretty hard to have a smiley boy look at me, chat to me and not wonder – hmm is he single? Errm doesn’t every single, single girl? Though at this thirty plus age – it’s like trying to find Harry Potter’s magic wand in 50 Shades of Grey, it’s just not poking out. I’m talking about being married here don’t know what you’re thinking about.

So let’s look at when “I haven’t been looking” and all these “right ones” have come. The guys that chatted me up in bars, the guys that asked me out through work, the guys that met me at weddings, parties anything and chased, chased and chased. Most of these guys have been record dating disaster cases. It seems every time I get swept up by a guy who’s gagging for a girl like me I end up with a guy that drives me insane, I eventually have to cut off and then use for blog material. Not really the boyfriend magic you people are on about.

Let’s flip that Lorenza cupid coin and compare with every time I’ve looked interested (Ok stared) at a boy, taken an interest in a boy, waved my arms with a vodka in hand at a boy. I’ve ended up with a quick dispelled no interest waved back or wait for it… a boyfriend. Oh the crazy cat town NO!?! Maybe I’m independent enough, I know who I am, what I’d like in a partner and know what would compliment, suit me, make me happy and go head first barreling towards that. I’m not content sitting pretty and waiting for Mr Prince-Chagrined-Sausage-Charming like you all keep telling me I should.

Maybe I’m a bit different. I can’t speak for the hoards of girls out there that need a boyfriend to feel wanted, that need a boyfriend to go to a party with, that need a boyfriend to make basically any decision about their life. They make me want to shake them and scream – “Please be single for just one day. Be upset and cry. Feel vulnerable – because you’ll end up a much more whole version of yourself for doing it.” But I don’t.

Sorry, got off track having a ‘needy girls shit me’ rant. Back to it. My advice to you single girls – Don’t wait. Don’t sit around and wait. That perfect boy for you… maybe he’s writing columns for Fairfax, maybe he’s on your tram every day, maybe he’s gawking at you at the gym really hoping you’ll trip over that mat.

Don’t wait around for the ugliest boy to ask you to dance – take charge of your man hunt – look for what you like, look for what you think you’d like and look for the boy you can be weird in-front of and he’ll still think you’re a bit weird… but in a cute way.

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2.3 And the Lotto numbers tonight are… five types of men I’ve dated.

A guy recently asked me if I “date” much and I immediately thought “No, not really…” But my answer came out more like, “Mmm in the last month I’ve been speed dating, had two friend set-ups and dated a guy I met at lawn bowls.” Then I thought “Oh you dating hussy!” So yeah, I date a lot. Give me a break – six years is a long time to be single. And the guys always seem to be the same. Here are the categories that they all powerball into, as I haven’t found that winning combination quite yet:

Mr Parents and Painful
This guy might live at home with the parents – which is fine, maybe he’s trying to pay off that Holden Astra by 2014 or get that smart phone app off the ground. But the thing about this guy is he’ll probably never do it. He’s got lots of ideas and plenty of talk but no real desire to be working in a job he enjoys or an actual ambition towards anything in life. I’ve seen tubby cats with more determination for finding dinner than this guy so it’s a big fat no from me.

Mr Friendly Neighbour
He’s nice, he’s funny and he’s nice and funny aaaand that’s it. He could be my best friend or brother – wait that didn’t sound right. He’s got a good job, he’s getting passes with a few credits for life but there’s no spark or romantic interest, and this is where I can’t be bothered poking around to see if there’s more. But hey, be sure to keep me on that funny email forward list till we both start dating other people.

Mr Stalk and Intimidate
He’s keen – way too keen. Does this guy even have hobbies other than me? He’s calling every night and sending enough messages to make me squeamish. He’s creepily noticed a dress from a year-old Facebook photo and he’s asking the mutual friends waaaay too many questions. Then he brings me flowers to brunch. Lovely! But it’s the icing on the creeper-cake mate, moving right along.

Mr Confusion Says
We’ve been on a few dates, I’m feverishly mounting up the tick boxes and can’t wait to see what else the holding yard’s got on offer then… it’s radio-iPhone-silence. Was it the smell of desperation? Is he dating four other colts at once or was he clearly not impressed with the Zara dressage I agonised over for hours? I’m confused as a losing Phar Lap and keep telling myself he had a funny looking mane anyway.

Mr Cool as FCUK
I don’t really know where the heck I stand with this guy – away so he can look at himself in the mirror, or closer so he can check his reflection in my sunglasses? What I was tipsily attracted to as “confidence” on a Friday night now seems more like arrogance on a stick. He’s not after a relationship and he’ll play me like a deck of girlfriends. If you keep a safe distance these ones are good for a laugh but if you play his fake-Gucci-glasses-game you’ll be chasing your tail like a damsel that’s possessed.

So why do I keep dating? Probably the same reason people play lotto their entire life with little chance of winning – it’s fun! Actually no, it’s exhilarating, and it’s taking a chance because you never know… one perfect-powerball-partner and I’m off.

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1.9 Excuse me Ma’am you‘re only allowed five pieces of emotional baggage.

When you’ve been single as long as someone like me, you begin to collect an EasyJet size amount of emotional baggage. It’s the high heels and snow jackets poking out the sides and refusing to squeeze in that become excuses and reasons for relationships ending before they’ve even begun or making these men and often myself lost in the transit of love.

1. First off – guys that are smaller than me. I can’t cope. I went out with a guy exactly height, I’m pretty sure I developed an eating disorder, an affliction to heels and hunched back within minutes. As I was staring at our legs on the couch watching tele one afternoon I realized my calves were in fact longer than his and I felt like an oversized-oaf-woman and this would have to end.

2. Most people think I’m weird. Correction – a lot of men think I’m weird – especially the ones I date. I don’t want to tell you just how many men have said to me on the first, third or fifth date “You’re weird” because I know that most of you know that I’m not. There’s a hundred other words out there to describe me and I don’t want to be with someone who thinks I’m odd.

3. After the third date you never hear from them again. I thought this stuff only happened in movies and books or to other people, not me. I watched guys smile, laugh and perfect their game right into my ‘This guy’s perfect!’ stupid heart, to then drop off the face of the Northern hemisphere earth. I think I’m a pretty good judge of Disney character but apparently I’m more of a stupid Snow White eating poisoned apples than I thought.

4. What are we exactly: Are we dating? Are we exclusive? Are we boyfriend, girlfriend? How am I supposed to introduce you at a party? It’s enough to make me want to bury my head in a pillow and wake up single again or arrange married. I’ve changed my Facebook relationship status to only change it back two weeks later when we broke up. It’s confusing, it’s nerve racking, no-one wants to jump in first and you’d better hope you’re synchronised swimming on these thoughts or one of you is going to look like a speedo wearing idiot.

5. I’m terrified of ever living with a boyfriend again. I’ve tried and tested this Martha Stewart business and entered with sharing couches and finances aplomb. It quickly turned into a cleaning and monetary debt of squabbles and separate beds and I had to ask myself “Seriously is this it?!” Martha Stewart, my baked bottom. It became a burnt batch of cookies that blackened my heart and baking tray forever.

So cross check those worry doors for taking off, watch the love safety jacket demonstration and don’t worry about it all too much. As they tell me when you meet the right one you won’t need that oxygen mask that drops down from above.

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