The 12 Boys of Christmas.

It's that time of year again where we make resolutions we inevitably won't keep: drink less, get skinny, not shag our new housemate etc. So while considering what mine will be, I have decided to pause and reflect on the 2010 resolution I actually achieved. 


In a hungover or very possibly still drunk state early on January 1st, I decided I would date 20 men. Yep, 20 men in 2010. Obviously the primary reason for opting for 20 men was because "20 men in 2010" is catchy. The secondary reason is that I've been so complacent about having a boy in my life, I thought it was time I start taking some action lest I end up barren, drinking gin with breakfast and owning more cats (or snakes) than I do shoes. 


Of course, as the year progressed, I realised it's actually sort of hard to meet 20 guys in 12 months who you'd consider dating, even just as a one off (admittedly, given that I seem to spend most my time outside work on the 109 tram the calibre of men I meet is somewhat questionable. But if you're into junkies who like to let fellow passengers know when they "need a shit" or guys who drink cans of Woodstock and cola at 10am, ladies - that's where it's at.)


Anyway, I decided to count my one off pashes and rendezvous' into my tally and, without realising it, I not only reached my 20 men, but actually surpassed the magic number. So in the theme of Christmas, and in no particular order, I've picked out 12 of the most - and least - memorable for your reading pleasure.


1. The "I'm Just Not That Into You" guy


I started dating this one last year, and broke it off a couple of weeks into 2010. Basically, I was just never that into him. The more he liked me, the less I liked him, and it got to that point many have reached before me where I didn't even want him touching me. I think it was the fourth date that really sealed my feelings. While hanging out at the beach, the boy asked me if I liked surprises. I gave a wary, “um… I don’t know…”, and he looked at me seductively and whispered, “I shaved”. Needless to say, we didn’t make it to bed and his efforts with a razor went unappreciated.

2. The older guy


I've never dated anyone more than three years older or younger than me until this guy, who was 14 years my senior. The age gap didn't really worry me, except that the older guy was clearly not ready to commit, despite having reached the big four-oh. It didn't take me long to come to this realisation, but I stuck around for a couple of months anyway. It was an odd situation. We got along well, were attracted to each other and both used Clinique products. Seemed great to me, but I fear karma may have come to find me, because I believe if he made his own list, I might be referred to as the "I'm Just Not That Into You" girl.


3. The young guy


I'd spent the day at a music festival waiting patiently to hear from the older guy, consuming a vodka Redbull for every minute he didn't contact me. So by the time the older guy finally cancelled, I was a dangerous mix of drunk, hyperactive and rejected. This led me to accept the advances of the first boy to try something on. We kissed for a very short time before I left him with my friend and disappeared into the night (or as most people call it, Swanston street McDonalds), but my friend felt it incumbent to hand over my number. So we exchanged a few texts, I agreed to catch up with him at a later date, and he added me on Facebook. You can imagine my dismay to find he was 22, had a penchant for "checking in" on Facebook places (not only is this one of my top pet hates, but he was usually checking into La Trobe University), and in his photos he looked disturbingly like Kieran Culkin. At the age he immortalised the character of "Fuller" in Home Alone. I left his last text unreturned.


4. The other young guy


I went out on a crazy girl's night a few months ago, and we ended up at Retro Bar. For anyone who's not been there, just picture a high school dance party, except with... actually no, just picture a high school dance party. So my friends and I decided to impart some of our dancefloor wisdom on a couple of young guys from Cairns, including our signature moves, The Coathanger and Chop the Sushi. We then got kicked out (seriously, what's the problem with nine drunk girls kicking off the wall, running at high speed and doing stacks on?) and I somehow found myself in a cab with one of the Cairns guys. In the light of the following morning, it was painfully clear the Cairns guy was several years younger than me, but luckily, he was a winner anyway. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror (uh oh! Panda eyes!) I commented, "that is NOT a pretty face", to which he replied, "I beg to differ." Bless.


5. The boring guy


I met a guy at a gig. It was very late, I was very drunk, and for some reason, I gave him my number, not troubling to save his details in my phone. I then accepted an invitation to have breakfast the next day. I turned up not knowing his name or what he looked like, and was bitterly disappointed. He was nice and he meant well, but he was what my friends and I lovingly refer to as  a "P" (a personality minus). In our one-hour date the only interests he discussed with me were fishing and working in real estate, both in great detail. Given that I've never done either of those things, the conversation was hard work and painfully slow. I'd liken it to recovering from major surgery.


6. The babe


There are a couple of babes that live near me. Massive babes. Such babes, we refer to them as "the babes". Anyway, after weeks of flirting, I hooked up with one of the babes and was pleasantly surprised. But then.. actually, just refer back to my first blog entry ("Oh what an interesting morning..") to find out the fate of the babe.


7. The brother


It almost pains me to write about this one. The brother of one of my best friends came to Melbourne for work for a few weeks. It was one of those situations people with boyfriends always talk about (and I always roll my eyes at): "You'll meet someone when you least expect it." In this case, I opened the door of my flat one night and he was standing there with two longnecks. He was just beautiful. I fell in love with him in about 10 minutes. We hooked up (if you don't believe me, check out the first July issue of Inpress where there's a photo of us pashing on the dancefloor of Purple Sneakers) and then I turned into a mental case. I sobbed hysterically because I saw a photo of his ex girlfriend in Who and then cried again because he didn't write back to a witty text I sent him about plastic chairs. When he left after the six weeks, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, quickly got my personality back and went back to being sane.


8. The friend's ex boyfriend


I'd met this guy briefly a couple of times when he was with a friend of mine. I'd heard stories which made me suspect he was slightly psychotic and obviously he was my friend's ex, so when he started making moves on me I was very wary and tried to ward him off. Eventually he kissed me, and when I stopped him and gave him the old, "we shouldn't be doing this, you went out with my friend" spiel, he became seriously pissed off. He began pacing the room calling my friend a slut, and yelled indignantly, "do you know she's sleeping with *insert mutual friend's name here*?!" Given they'd been broken up for two years, I thought this was an excessive reaction. I managed to escape unharmed.


9. The colleague


The weekend before I started my new job, a guy I was to work with kindly invited me to his party so I could meet a few people before my first day. I took this as an opportunity not only to meet people, but also to make out with someone, only to realise later he was part of the same team I was on and we'd spend a large portion of our working day staring at each other through plate glass (in a much less creepy way than it sounds).


10. The guy I can't remember


My male friends from uni have a tradition they call Manzac Day. As the name suggests, it's boys only and it happens on Anzac Day. They suit up, hit the dawn service, get stupidly drunk and do things like Flaming Manginas before passing out at 7. This year, us girls decided to do Clamzac Day. Gross, but hilarious. So we pooled together our best vodka, schnapps, champagne, fruit juice, energy drink, Berocca capsules and cask wine, filled up a bottle the size of a rainwater tank, and drank it. Quickly. Some of us vomited before leaving the house. Others - myself included - don't actually remember LEAVING the house. So you can imagine my shock when I woke up on a couch (fully clothed), next to a stranger, with a row of canoes hanging over my head. A very handsome boy had for some reason or another decided it'd be fun to break into a boat shed on Sydney's northern beaches and spend the night there, with no covers and no toilet. One $47 cab ride later, I was home pretending the whole thing never happened.


11. The guy dressed like Edward Scissorhands


For my birthday, a friend and I had a combined party at her place. The theme was 90s, and I looked much like the lovechild of DJ Tanner and Andrea Zuckerman, complete with New Kids on the Block t-shirt, high waisted orange jeans and a Fiorelli mini backpack. About halfway through the evening, I threw a completely rational and warranted tantrum because a guy I'd once liked casually placed his arm around the back of a chair my friend was sitting on. So my friend chased me around the party trying to talk to me and wouldn't leave me alone. Again, being totally rational, I decided my only course of action was to start making out with someone so she would let me get on with my night, so I grabbed my friend's Argentinian housemate who happened to be dressed like Edward Scissorhands and kissed him. Unfortunately, my seamless plan wasn't so seamless. My friend stood there until I was done, then dragged me into a corner to bear hug me until I talked and consequently a girl at the party thought the three of us were in a "lesbian love triangle".


12. The married guy


Before you get all judgey, HE'S SEPARATED! I met him through a friend and I remember my first thought being "uh oh". We clicked straight away, and when I ran into him a couple of months later we clicked again and ended up kissing. He called me a few days later to explain he wasn't ready for anything (understandably) but wanted to call to apologise for any standoffishness, telling me I was a nice girl and he didn't want to mess me around. That phone call, though obviously a phone call of termination, was one of the nicest and most respectful conversations I have ever had with a man. He was lovely, considerate and surprisingly honest - and made up for every shitty boy-related situation I have had this year.


So now to decide what my 2011 resolution should be. I've quit smoking, pashed enough boys to last until the next millennium and there's nothing really relevant to my life goals which rhymes with eleven. 


I'll get back to you.