12 August 2018

There was a forgotten message on Facebook from 2007 today that brought some surprising memories back to me.

The message was from the third man I ever went on a date with, and he mentioned that in Paris my name had rung a bell with a Mercedes Lady. It happened to be Claudio, and I will never forget her performing to the entire school, and the disinterest bordering on disrespect I heard from the crowd of girls who had no inkling of her talent.

Every time I see her success I am so happy for her - she played here at the NGV last year and although I didn't go, I wanted to, just to pay my respects to her hard work. When I read a now-successful artist talking about their school days, the first memory that comes to mind in sympathy is my visceral memory of the crowd in the gym that day.

He was the lovely man that I went on one date with after breaking up with Curo, and that was a bit more complicated than it should have been. Although I technically went on dates with Mark and Curo, Rafer definitely was my first stereotypical date.

He had spotted me immediately when he started at ADI, and he wore Tommy which was my favourite smell, and no way to judge a man. Nevertheless I said yes, and he picked me up from Joel Terrace with a bouquet of Chuppa Chups (my sugar dependency clearly showing).

We went to Mt Lawley I think, and at one point I was uncool about the dermatitis on his hands, and that was the end of that venture.

It is so funny trying to remember the men who thought they were dating me. I don't really remember them, and I wonder how they think of me now.

I mean, almost every man I dated (and could have dated) invited me to their engagement parties, sometimes their weddings, so I think I was not monstrous. But they are so invisible in my memories, only serving to fill out a list that shows they are all sweet-natured clones of each other.