Auditions for Love.Com

guidance.

Chapter 1

A Soldier’s Tale

First ask yourself: What is the worst that can happen? ~ Dale Carnegie

My excitement was overwhelming, I felt like I had decrypted the enigma. My first internet date was set. I arranged to take her out for a romantic Thai dinner. From her personal description she sounded wonderful, fit, sexy and engaging. I was beside myself with the exhilaration of how this was possible. I was very well aware that what I was doing was abnormal for the year 2001, taboo even, and probably a little bit creepy in the eyes of many. It made no difference to me, I saw an opportunity to close the gap between my oversexed friends and myself, and I wasn’t letting a social conscience get in my way.

I had no premeditated intention to ever engage in online dating. To be honest I had never really considered it. I was an outdoorsy guy and not the computer type. It was by chance that the friend I was living with at the time had a chat site installed on his desk top computer. I rarely had a need for computers back then except to send the occasional email. As I sat one evening checking my inbox, the computer kept making odd noises at me, a collaboration of dings, bings and rings. I was barely skilled to turn the damn thing on let alone navigate my way around. I soon got frustrated at the commotion and pulled the speakers to stop the barrage of harassing sounds. As though to counter my attempt to mute its presence, an icon down on the bottom right of the toolbar began pulsating. It was called ICQ. I thought perhaps it was a program requiring an update, or a Microsoft feature advising me I was doing it all wrong. With my right hand navigating the mouse, I scrolled the curser over the throbbing noisy icon, and double clicked.

I discovered ICQ when I was soldiering in the Australian Defence Force. At nineteen years of age I was not your regular soldier. I didn’t drink alcohol, lacked enthusiasm for pubs and clubs which, as you can imagine, seriously inhibited my opportunities to meet women. I was in a combat unit so working with women was also something out of my grasp. I certainly didn’t lack confidence, quite the opposite from memory. The majority of my friends, however, loved to drink, loved to go clubbing and consequently had far greater opportunities to develop the necessary ‘pea cocking’ skills to woo the opposite sex. Unlike the majority, I would look forward to Monday mornings, as I got to hear the shenanigans of the weekend’s many hookups. I would listen intently in amazement at how forward they all were with their approach, and that it actually worked for them! In hindsight though, I assume it had more to do with alcohol and a youthful lack of inhibitions. Nevertheless, innocence came with a price, you rarely got laid, and when you did, it was only by chance.

At this time I was living with my two best friends in the army. For three guys we kept a very tight ship. We all loved our fitness, competed heavily against one another and the sledging was relentless. It was always two on one. I recall one afternoon sneaking into Glen’s room during his habitual siesta. Shaun, my other housemate, armed with the body of a Dyson vacuum, and me handling the business end. Silent laughing engulfed us both as we stealthily made our way across the room toward our peaceful, innocent and sleeping target. I lined the nozzle up with Glen’s exposed privates, turned to my accomplice and with all the enthusiasm and certainty in our operation, gave the nod. Up they went, the pitch of the vacuum screamed as it fought the blockage. The bear had woken!

Like startled gazelles, Shaun and I ran through the house, hearing Glen thundering close behind. Glen was stronger than both of us together, so our strategy was always to split and pray that it was not you he decided to pursue. The pain and suffering of the retribution always seemed worth the reward of another hilarious story. But then again, we were young, and I doubt consequence was a much evolved consideration.

It was within this mature environment, in the man pad, that I discovered the chat site, ICQ. My two flat mates would go out clubbing over the weekends and I would remain behind, drawn to this online environment where I could chat to the opposite sex, anywhere in the world. I felt so comfortable chatting to women online. I felt a sense of excitement, a rush, and at times, depending on the content and opportunity, pure adrenalin. What made it so easy to communicate was that there was no verbal or physical presence. It was simply a chat forum in the comfort and security of my own home. I found it far easier to confidently chat to women online than I did out and about. Smooth talking women is a dark art. Some people are gifted with it and some acquire the skill set after years of trial and error. I definitely fell into the latter category. Time would fly when I was on ICQ. My flat mates would go out and come home hours later and still I would be glued to the computer chatting to girls. You may envisage this is the activity of a geek, a World of War Craft gamer, or a creep, however, I certainly did not fit this category. I found it fun and finally felt completely comfortable chatting to women. I was hooked!

Chatting online allowed me to lay a platform. It allowed me the time I needed to become familiar, all the while building the suspense and anticipation of a possible meet. They say online dating allows you to put your best foot forward. I tend to agree. By this, I mean you can focus on all of your strengths. I believe this is what the young lady was doing when I was convinced that I wanted to meet her. Typing the next words made me smile like a school boy, So… would you like to meet? I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for a response, Jesus I said it! Seconds ticked by without a response, I held my breath for what felt like an eternity. Then came her reply, I don’t normally do this but, ahh, sure, why not.

As I pulled up to her place I checked myself in the rear vision mirror. All seemed in order, as I grabbed the flowers and confidently strode up her driveway. I lifted my hand to knock and noticed it shaking profusely. The door opened and as she stood in front of me smiling, I could have died. She was NOT as she had described at all. People know instantly when they meet someone whether they are physically attracted. She was far bigger than she had described, was seriously under-dressed and to make matters worse, had a better moustache than I was capable of growing at nineteen. My mind was racing. Oh dear God, I thought to myself, I have committed to taking this lady out for a night’s entertainment. My mind was telling me to run, but my conscience insisted I stay. What made matters worse was that after five minutes of driving I found her a nag and somewhat authoritarian, advising me how to drive, where to park and what I would be eating. Perhaps that was her response to nerves.

I have never eaten food so quickly, but of course she ordered dessert. I resolved the entire situation rather rapidly in my mind. I was telling myself that this was no longer a date but business and I had to remain professional. It was the only way I kept myself sane, polite and social.

I must have driven home a little too quickly, which in hindsight may have given her the completely wrong impression. As I pulled into her driveway she lifted her meaty hand from her lap and placed it down on mine. Shocked, overwhelmed and intimidated, I glanced across to her smiling face. Would you like to come inside? She cheekily suggested. With a soft and stuttered tone, I politely refused. She then asked if we would be seeing each other again. I don’t think so, I muttered uncomfortably. With that, she retreated to her house, and I was free! The ordeal had ended which of course meant I had to return to the den of slow critical torture from my housemates on the notion of internet dating. The feeling I had at that dinner still haunts me to this day. It certainly would not be the last awkward internet dating experience I would endure. This humble first experiment really did raise the question which would follow me and evolve through the years, What was I looking for, ultimately?

Chapter 2

Pleasure & Pain

Only time can heal your broken heart, just as only time can heal his broken arms and legs. ~ Miss Piggy

Two officers escorted me to my father’s funeral in full military dress which gave me the strength I needed on the day and was an act of brotherhood I will never forget. I was granted three days leave from the army diver’s course to mourn with family. Any longer and I would lose too much time on course and have to try again in a year’s time. I knew dad would not have wanted that. What made these three days so much more difficult for me to register was that I received a text message from Belinda on the day after the funeral, with those words that bring your whole fast paced life to a screaming halt, Oliver, I’m pregnant.

Following my initial six months of Army training, I was posted to the 1st Combat Engineer Regiment, 1st Battalion at Robertson Barracks on January three of 2001. January in Darwin is the wet season, blisteringly hot, steamy and grossly uncomfortable in full camouflage gear and boots, my daily dress code. The top end of Australia does not experience four seasons, it has two, wet and dry but always hot. The cab ride from the airport to the barracks was a little under thirty minutes which gave my driver plenty of time to educate me on crocodiles, box jelly fish and the Inland Taipan or the Fierce Snake, three of the deadliest creatures on earth and all native to my new environment, brilliant. My first impressions of Darwin though were a shock to me. I had envisaged Darwin as the outback, dry, dusty red earth and rather backward. I was delightfully surprised to find it tropical, lush green and well, still pretty damn backward.

My taxi pulled up outside my regimental headquarters where I was to report for further instructions. I could not believe how laid back all the soldiers were. I had just come from six months of intensive military training institutions, or hell, where not a moment of your life is spent without fear, purpose and rigidity. As I walked into the impressive building I was greeted by the duty officer. I snapped my heels together and whipped my hand up to salute, as I had been instructed when encountering an officer. He burst into laughter with all the other soldiers.

Mate, it’s Saturday, you’re not at army school anymore, relax kid, the duty officer quipped. Look, we weren’t expecting you until Monday, so here’s your building and room number. Now fuck off, go get a cold one into you and don’t come back until 0530 hours Monday.

With that initial experience