Tag: Dating

• When are you dating? The unfortunate situation of breaking up with someone you were never with

  May 11, 2023 9:40 am Comments Off on When are you dating? The unfortunate situation of breaking up with someone you were never with

  This week I was reminded of a truly uncomfortable situation I found myself in in late 2019, which I thought I would share with you all.

  Anyone who has ever had a situation-ship has found themselves asking ‘are we dating?’. A question, that in this day and age, is significantly more complicated than it used to be. The myriad of shapes and forms of the modern relationship greatly changes the ways in which we end up in them. Polyamorous relationships, open relationships and casual relationships are all significantly more common and accepted than they were previously, which makes knowing when you’re actually in a relationship all the more difficult. This leads me to the situation in 2019, otherwise known as ‘the unfortunate situation of breaking up with someone you were never dating in the first place.’ 
  At the end of 2019 I had freshly graduated high school and had a ‘situation-ship’ with a guy that I was fairly uninvested in. Let’s call him Chad. I was eighteen and I’d only ever been kissed twice and was pretty desperate to have any kind of experience before I started university, which led to Chad and I starting up ‘something’. If I’m honest, the entire experience boiled down to some late night phone calls, a less than stellar hookup, and a coffee date (I don’t even drink coffee). A big reason I wasn’t hugely invested was because I’d heard through a friend that Chad wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship and additionally that he thought I was “too high-maintenance” for him (“crazy” might have been the actual word used, but for my own dignity I’m choosing to go with a more professional term). If someone said that about me now I’d tell them to take a long walk off a short pier, but I ask the reader to remember that I was freshly eighteen and a little stupid. It’s also important to note that Chad and I lived about an hour apart, which was a pretty heavy factor in why we didn’t see each other that often, and one that in hindsight, I’m pretty thankful for. Either way, after a couple weeks of this, I was pretty convinced that we were just friends who had hooked up that one time. 
  While all of this was going on, I met the guy who would become my first boyfriend. Within a few weeks of meeting, we started dating. When I told Chad this information, I received the most unexpected and surprising reaction. Chad informed me that he believed himself to be my boyfriend. It is safe to say that I was pretty surprised by this revelation as at no point in our brief interactions had we had any sort of discussion about this, and in my limited experience, I had assumed that this sort of thing was something that both parties had to agree upon first.

  What followed was the most bizarre breakup I’ve ever had. In fact, it’s in the running for most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had.
  While Chad assured me he wasn’t hurt, just demoralised about the entire thing, I was deeply deeply confused about how I’d ended up in my first relationship without my knowledge. This was a fairly traumatising experience for me, one that my new boyfriend at the time found absolutely hilarious. But it is definitely something that still haunts me to this day.
  I think the most important thing that this experience taught me was the importance of communication in all relationships, but particularly within romantic ones. There is nothing to fear from the ‘relationship talk’ because if you do have different expectations from a relationship, the earlier you find out, the better! That way, if you really are looking for a commitment, you know you aren’t wasting your time with someone who isn’t, because there are plenty of people who do want that. I know many people are frightened of that sort of conversation, it’s a very valid fear. Emotional intimacy is difficult, but absolutely worthwhile. 
  As far as I’m concerned, anything that prevents you from dumping someone you didn’t know was your boyfriend over the phone on a Tuesday is an absolutely brilliant thing that we should all take advantage of. If you do find yourself needing to have this kind of conversation, be calm and clear about what you want: there’s no point in agreeing to some kind of compromise that you know will upset you later on. It’s also okay to take things slow, you don’t have to jump into a serious relationship overnight, it’s okay to ease into it.
  Most important, though, is being honest about what you want from the beginning. If you don’t want something serious that’s okay! More power to you, but don’t lead people on. Leading people on is at best manipulative, and at worst downright cruel. However, it goes both ways; attempting to pursue a relationship with someone who’s not looking for one will almost never work, and it will absolutely cause you an immense amount of pain.
  Despite the cautionary tale I’ve just told you, many years later my current girlfriend and I were  sitting on some beanbags in her apartment and she turned to me and asked, ‘oh shit, are we dating?!’ even though we were practically living together at the time. Clearly, I haven’t learnt anything from my own past experiences. Either that, or my girlfriend is really that dense, another entirely plausible possibility.

  Anyone who has ever had a situation-ship has found themselves asking ‘are we dating?’. A question, that in this day and age, is significantly more complicated than it used to be.

  Lara Connolly

• How to Seduce the Nonbinary in Your Class

  November 9, 2022 5:18 pm Comments Off on How to Seduce the Nonbinary in Your Class

   
  It’s a new semester, you’re taking An Introduction to the Wage Gap in Child Labour, sitting bored in the cramped tutorial room. You didn’t do the reading, and a white man just walked into the room. A tote bag flops onto the table next to you. A hand, covered in rings and chipped nail polish, reaches down past the bubble-gum vape and pulls out a laptop. A laptop covered in stickers, from the Greens to BLM to one that just has a picture of Mitski captioned “I love my wife.” And nestled amongst a feat of signaling that would make Barthes proud, is a blue, white and pink flag. You’ve encountered, for the first time and up-close, a nonbinary person. 
  To perform a public good for this small, almost pointless-to-write about niche, here is my guide on how to seduce, and sleep with the non-binary person in your class. Take this both in reverence and with an immensely large grain of salt. 
  Seduction begins, as it always does, by establishing yourself in relation to them. You want to differentiate yourself from the other tote-wearing, oat milk drinking queers who normally swing their way. In seducing your nonbinary target, imagine you are the siren atop the rocks, offering to fix their relationship with their parents. 
  If you’re wondering, at this point, if the first step is surely to get their pronouns right, I’m sorry, but this isn’t for you.
  Start with subtle but smart phrases. Compliment their niche tattoos that either have a paragraph long history or mean fuck all. Even their crustiest stick’n’pokes deserve your adoration (and perhaps later a gentle kiss to the scabbed and flaking ink). Make fun of the straight men in your class. Refer endlessly to the latest TikTok trends or your family traumas and how they led you to reading fanfiction. Make a point to overshare on something sexual, but don’t go too far. Tell them about a fetish, or your most recent hook-up and change the conversation immediately. Be casual and non-confrontational about your repertoire. 
  The next step in seduction is to convince them that sex with you will not induce a month-long gender crisis requiring two more trips to the therapist. (The formula for a nonbinary person’s therapy attendance per month is 1 + n where n is the number of years they lived at home.) This is probably the most crucial part of the entire process and the key is to highlight your expertise and previous experience in nonbinary forays. 
  Phrases to use include telling them that everyone else you’ve slept with also wears Docs, or that you liked Keith Haring before he was commercialised. Casually mention how you’re getting into crocheting, and how your pink strap-on is hot pink, not just pink, and that the silicone is ethically sourced and recyclable. Try buying your own carabiner to incite a Pavlovian response from them. Be sure to be seen reading Sylvia Plath with cum or lipstick smudges on some of the pages. 
  When you move from the sussing out period to the downright flirting stage, there are two strategies. Going high or going low. Going high consists of things like giving them your favourite book to read, bonding over your mutual stupol friends, lending them your overalls, and casually touching hands in the oat milk aisle at the supermarket. Going low is the more sensual avenue, such as making them a playlist, getting your septum pierced, or offering to touch up their shag mullet. Go high for the nonbinaries who were radicalised by Judith Butler and go low for the nonbinaries enlightened by jungle juice. 
  After you’ve successfully and metaphorically (or literally) put a leash on them comes the more immediate seduction: getting them back to your salt-lamp lit room to do it in a way my parents nor the straggot Peter Dutton could ever begin to imagine.  
  Inviting them over for tea, for instance, elicits an immediate response, but be sure you’re well stocked with herbal options. Offer to crochet with the more sapphic ones. Or suggest attending an erotic haiku reading at Sideway on a Friday night. 
  When trying to move things back to their apartment / decolonised sharehouse / the nearest bathroom, someone has to be direct. This is either you or them, and you’ll know who’s who based on who says slay more. 
  Now, you have them somewhere private, and it’s time to ask for consent. This can start as simply as putting on a Studio Ghibli film, discussing your most toxic ex, or sharing a cigarette. 
  More complex techniques include studying the number of authors of colour they have on their bookshelf, or, conversely, showing off the diversity of your own. A word of warning though. If your bookshelf is not majority second-hand or Penguin, make sure it is organised aesthetically to distract them from this failing. 
  If you’ve gotten this far and are wondering at which point to pull out your Lana Del Rey vinyl, stop reading.
  At some point here, you’ve sneaked a first kiss and realise that you don’t actually mind the smell of their septum piercing. Assuming you have down pat the rudiments of sex, let’s talk about that holiest of holy words: climax. (No, I thought you were bringing the strap-on). 
  Crucial here, is the playlist you put on. Unless you’re experienced, or sleeping with them regularly, you need to have some good tunes to make them forget that their mum still mispronouns them. Personal favourites include Simon & Garfunkel’s 1981 live concert in Central Park, or a mix of Mitski/Azaelia Banks/ Hozier. 
  Good sex, I’ve heard, begins with foreplay. Acknowledgement of country is a good opener, as is listening to their 3-hour interactive lectorial on exactly what kind of nonbinary person they are with a supplementary reading on the infinite iterations of their pronouns or the moments and queer relationships they had through their childhood. Alternatively, if you’re looking to top, try giving head while introducing your stuffed animals.
  Phrases like “oh that’s so they/them of you” are a must, and if whispered at just the right moment, can induce orgasm. So too can offering them an ointment for their infected nipple piercing and complementing the boldness of their pubic hair styling. If these fail, fuck them tenderly, so that three weeks later they’ll be convinced that you’re going to cure them of their borderline personality disorder and they’ll cure you of your cisgenderness. 
  Having followed these steps closely you will find yourself well-endeared to your nonbinary lover, as well as their nonbinary friends, and exes. All of these individuals will be potential candidates for bedding, but proceed with caution as you may find yourself itching for a pronoun change.
   
   
  Originally published in Woroni Vol. 72 Issue 5 ‘Cum As You Are’
  Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.

  Alexander Lane

• Seven Deadly Sins of Gay Dating Apps

  October 31, 2022 5:01 pm Comments Off on Seven Deadly Sins of Gay Dating Apps

  Disclaimer: this does not detail the experiences of all Queer* people, but rather a commentary of the experiences of the authors.
   
  Lust: hung top looking for sub bottom
   
  Picture this: you’re 17, just come to terms with the fact that maybe you’re not so straight. You’ve heard so much about this great place for gay and bisexual men to meet up and get to know each other. The magical online realm of Grindr. You sign up, upload a cute pic of yourself to get the boys, and get excited. 5 minutes in, you get a message. OMG!? Is this the love of my life? You open the message: dick pic. Oh, well I kinda like dick I guess? Another message: dick pic. Another message: dick pic. Dick pic after dick pic. Your messages are flooded with many, so many dick pics. Is this modern dating for queer men? Sending dick pics till the end of time? 
  Then you have a blank profile send you a message: “hung top here, looking for sub bottom. You looking?” First off, what is a hung top and a sub bottom? A t-shirt that’s been hung up in a cupboard and the bottom half of a sub sandwich? And looking? Looking for what? Looking for love of course but I get the feeling they’re not talking about that. Another message appears: “53 year old daddy looking for younger.” *insert dick pic here*. This is all so overwhelming, you delete the app after 3 hours and go cry over how you may never find the love of your life.
   
  Gluttony: please stop dating each other  
   
  I always forget I live in an echo chamber – that not all friendship groups are queer and chaotic. With inter-dating, constant flirting and mutual matching. On a least ten occasions I have received simultaneous screenshots from two gay friends with eachother’s dating profiles. 
  “Do you think we’d make a good couple?” 
  “You think he would be down to fuck, like casual, I know I could but…” 
  “You know *insert gay friend here* right? We just matched!” 
   
  WANTED: GAYS IN CANBERRA! 
  Don’t get me wrong I’m all for some good old hoeing – but please can more gays come to Canberra? The pool is too small and I’m stuck in hookup deja vu. My life’s complicated enough. 
   
  Greed: spicy unicorn wanted for fun loving couple  
   
  She’s beautiful, intriguing, social, academic and fashionable – there’s only one problem – she has a boyfriend – and she wants you to join. They all have one thing in common, unicorn emojis 🦄. And let’s be clear these couples are not looking for a polyamorous relationship, they are on the apps specifically for a sexual third, a girl, a unicorn. The obsession of thirds, women setting up dating apps to effectively con queer women into matching with them (and their boyfriends) is beyond frustrating. No I don’t want to sleep with your boyfriend, because surprisingly bisexual people are not walking sex machines who will sleep with anyone and anything. I don’t want to be fetishised into your relationship – there are surely apps for that. Nor do I want to accidentally match with a cute girl, only to be sent messages about her boyfriend’s sexual capabilities. 
   
  And it’s always the women who make the profiles, which is confusing in itself as what lesbian woman would want to sleep with you and your BOYfriend? As a bisexual woman (who avoids dating men), having sex with your boyfriend really defeats the purpose of swearing off men. 
   
  So leave us queers alone and go find your fetish somewhere else. And give us back the unicorn emoji – it’s cute, and gay. 
   
  Sloth: The Ghost of Insta DMs past
   
  *ding* 
  A Tinder notification appears on your phone. 
  “You have a new match!” 
  Oh, here we go. Another match with some random queer person at your university, never to be talked to. 
  *ding* 
  “So and so has sent you a message*
  Okay this is crazy. You’re actually messaging, and the conversation is… good? This feels wrong, something has to be up. You decide to move the conversation to Instagram… are they the one? Have I finally met the person I’m going to date?
   
  You continue the conversation, send each other photos, tell each other “you’re so cute” while drunk on a night out. Things are going well.
   
  Then, it stops. You barely talk anymore. Send two-word responses to questions. Don’t even swipe up on each other’s stories anymore. Then you start blanking each other on the street and on campus. Now you have to redownload Tinder and start the cycle again. This is so exhausting. The ghost has struck again. 
   
  Wrath: “We’ve run out of potential matches in your area”
   
  “We’ve run out of potential matches in your area. Go global and see people around the world.”
   
  Fuck. Off. I only swiped like 5 times, how have I run out of matches already?? Why are there literally no gays in Canberra? 
   
  I guess I’ll have to go back to Grindr…
   
  Envy: To be or to be with?  
   
  The age-old question of same-sex dating – do I want to be with them? Or do I want to be them? Is there a reason I’m attracted to people who are just different fonts of me? Am I secretly harbouring a deeper desire to become them, to embody their life, to be a better version of me (which through my screen they somehow appear to be)? 
   
  Honestly I have no idea – maybe it’s just that we’re attracted to people with similar interests to us, similar life goals and values – and in a queer relationship, your identity becomes mixed with theirs. So how do you even attempt to navigate the treachery of being simultaneously attracted to and identifying with your partner? 
   
  If anyone figures this out please DM me – seriously.
  Love, 
  Confused gay 
   
  Pride: Our bodies are our selling point
   
  Twink. Otter. Bear. Wolf. Daddy. For those who do not know, these are terms used to characterise us… based on how much hair/muscles you have. We are literally divided into “tribes” entirely based on how we look. But more than that, those who are white twinks (skinny, petite, hairless) get most of the attention. We also have to post basically naked pictures on any app to get any attention at all. Sooooo in summary, the community looks at your body and then, only then will we get to know each other if we like how the other looks. So great. So healthy. How do we fix this? Actually dunno. Oops sorry.
   
   
   
  Originally published in Woroni Vol. 72 Issue 5 ‘Cum As You Are’
  Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.

  Indy Shead

• Astrology and the Dating World

  August 16, 2022 2:12 pm Comments Off on Astrology and the Dating World

  It doesn’t take a statistician to notice that belief in astrology, or the study of celestial objects and their impact on human life, is rising in popularity.
   
  Evidence suggests that when societies are undergoing existential threats or stress, like pandemics, natural disasters, or conflict, they are more likely to turn to scientifically unfounded belief systems. Given the state of the world, this probably isn’t surprising.
   
  This concept is corroborated by Dr Victor Grech, whose studies uncovered a surge of interest towards astrology in the wake of the 2016 American election. Additionally, the rise of astrological predilection is, perhaps as expected, highest amongst women.
   
  As I am just like the other girls, I have a casual interest in astrology. But I have a much greater interest in asking men about astrology. What is even better than that, for me anyway, is going on a date and correctly ‘guessing’ their star sign. Little do they know, it is already listed on their Hinge profile. I have an Aries Venus and a Taurus Mercury, if that explains anything.
   
  Whatever you believe, I don’t ask men their zodiac sign as a means of examining basic compatibility. It isn’t that I am searching for a common interest, nor do I use it as a way to mildly aggravate, however tempting that may be. It is definitely a method of finding out more about my date, but the outcome is not solely based on their reported sign.
   
  I find it to be a useful tool in gauging potential worst qualities.
  If interrogations result in a disdainful response, let alone a lecture, I can reasonably rule them out as a love match, or even a casual lover. I’m not searching for someone who is also interested in astrology. However, I am looking for someone who is relaxed enough to indulge all sorts of questions, and open-minded enough not to be immediately judgemental.
  It also cannot be left unsaid – the primary reason I ask men about their star sign is to decipher if they are a misogynist or not.
   
  Astrology has been, and remains, an interest that is predominantly enjoyed by women. Often, it is a safe and empowering space for us. It allows individuals to dig deep into areas of their life they may need to work on, work out. Through this, many women use their signs to find their own power. Writing off an interest in astrology as an irrational belief in the paranormal, immediately excludes the aspect of self-development sought after amongst committed believers.
   
  While I couldn’t describe myself like that, it fills a practical function. It is dangerous being a young woman going on dates, even with people I already know. Unfortunately, many women like myself also must rely on surreptitious methods of vetting potential romantic partners.
  When I polled women aged between 16 and 25 via Instagram, almost all respondents expressed that they also had negative experiences with men, after discussing astrology. 
   
  This isn’t breaking news, with respondents to previous surveys echoing the stories supplied through my Instagram study. In a 2018 Vice article, a male respondent stated that “If you bring that shit up with me, I’ll think you’re a mindless bimbo.” Delightful.
   
  Another 2018 study by I. Andersson, entitled Even the Stars Think That I Am Superior: Personality, Intelligence and Belief in Astrology proposes a link between belief and psyche. Findings divulged a negative correlation between belief in astrology and intelligence, and positively correlated narcissism with belief in astrology [in men]. For me, what is attractive isn’t about disbelief or belief, but rather about acceptance of one another’s beliefs, so long as they are not harmful.
  My ideal date isn’t necessarily someone who has even a casual interest in astrology. In fact, I think it is someone relatively apathetic about it, but lets me enjoy my silly little stars while they enjoy their silly little sports. Or whatever it is that they like, that I myself take no interest in.
  On the lighter side, in the youth hostel I stayed in while writing this, I quizzed some of my male roommates on their thoughts. Was it a red flag for them, if women ask about their star sign? My Canadian, American and Australian hostel mates all had the same response. Basically, “If you had asked me five years ago, I would have thought you were intellectually inferior, and even lectured you about it, but now I just answer and wait for the analysis”.
  Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to ask the men in the room next door to us, who catcalled us on the way back from the showers, what they might have thought about it all. Something tells me I don’t need their star sign to work out if I want to date them or not. 
   
  Originally published in Woroni Vol. 72 Issue 4 ‘Alien’
   
  Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.
   
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• SLOWLY VANISHING

  March 8, 2019 2:48 pm Comments Off on SLOWLY VANISHING

  I met a girl in a Galway pub, once. She would always say that she saw me, and I with spotting her. We gossiped for a while about life in Europe, as eighteen-year-old Australian travellers always do, and after a while I offered to buy her a drink. She replied to me, teasingly, and with a smile, that she could buy her own drinks, thank you very much! Then she looked into my eyes, and said, “go on, then…”
  It was the first time I ever bought a girl a drink. The whole thing was a fairy-tale. Eighteen months later, I am carving her name into a tree on the side of Black Mountain with a blunt knife, piss-drunk and sobbing for the first time since primary school.
  I had not been a person to feel very much. Growing up, I never really struggled with depression or anxiety, or anything like that. I have always considered myself to be an emotionally strong person. I’ve had close family members struggle with things like addiction, cancer, and suicidal thoughts, with some of them dying as a result. It makes me feel guilty then, to realise that breaking up with that girl has hit me much harder than anything else in my life. It feels almost like a betrayal to them all – and yet, it’s the truth.
  Over those months I had truly come to love her and when she was suddenly gone from my life, it was traumatic. Heartbreak often is. And for a rather masculine bloke such as myself, this took me completely by surprise. It was a different, deeper type of hurt. In all the other losses, those loved ones never really wanted to part from your company. The end of a relationship is a rejection of you at your most intimate and personal. It is humiliating. It cuts deeply into who you believe you are. Heartbreak is traumatic in any capacity, but the more you love someone the worse it is. My heart was completely broken, and in turn, I was as well.
  It seemed at the time as if everything I had built my life around had suddenly fallen away. I felt completely alone. My guts always felt as if they were tying themselves in knots and I wanted to cry all the time. I began to drink – and I was a heavy drinker before the split. Now, I was rarely sober. I was drunk every night, and every morning, and even during classes and lectures. To my horror, I later found out that there were weeks where I perpetually stank of goon, and that my bottom lip was almost always stained red. At the time it felt as if intoxication was my only escape from the crushing sense of loss.
  For months, I found that I physically couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat because my appetite had disappeared, and all I would do was retch while trying to keep anything down. Often, I would walk into the bush across the road late at night so that my neighbours wouldn’t hear me cry. I didn’t even get an erection, provoked or otherwise, for what was eventually a 44-day period – which, for a young adult male, is near absurd. A few times in the middle of lectures I rudely pushed through my friends to get outside, feeling that my chest might implode if I couldn’t get away. There was rarely a quarter hour that I didn’t think about this girl: where she was, what she was doing, who she was doing it with. None of this was helped by the fact that two weeks into the break she hooked up with two blokes, fully aware that she was within a metre of me and in my full view, and left upstairs Moose with one of them. I was never suicidal, but I was very, very depressive.
  Months passed by. I began to completely open myself up to people, just because, for the first time in my life, I felt as if I couldn’t cope with it all by myself. I wrote a lot, too. I filled a whole exercise book in an attempt to understand just what I was feeling. I tried to go sober for a week, and it was only on the second attempt that I managed. I saw a councillor once or twice. All of these helped me in little ways – but it was like trying to scratch your way through a granite wall. I was still not sleeping. I was eating better, but only when I was forcing myself to. I continued to drink a lot, even if I had cut it down. And all the while, I still could not help but dwell upon thoughts and memories of my lovely ex, and how terrible she had made me feel. Looking back, I think I was in denial – how could I love someone so much, and have believed that they loved me so strongly, only for us to break up like this? Nowadays I ask myself whether or not she really did ever love me. The answer I come to is: probably not. It’s a horrible reality to suffer through, certainly, and as much as it hurt, in retrospect there was nothing I could do. But at the time, I still had hope.
  It wasn’t anything in particular that helped me get better. Sobriety definitely assisted, allowing me to actually confront what I was feeling, as terrible as it felt when I was doing so. Ironically, drinking in and of itself also helped me cope through the worst of it. Writing gave me a way to express and understand what I was feeling, and my friends reminded me that I wasn’t actually so alone. But in the end, none of these things were the antidote to my heartbreak. They certainly assisted, and yet really it was just taking the time to comprehend what had happened, and the reality of my new life, that was the remedy. Although it took months for me to emotionally process my scorned love, once my mind gradually appreciated the fact, an odd kind of peace began to gently settle over me. Slowly, my nights began to become much more peaceful. My appetite returned. I no longer had a crushing sense of grief whenever I thought of her. There was finally an understanding within me that what had happened was inescapable, and all I could do was try to move on.
  Of course, I still have pangs of sadness over it all. Love like that doesn’t just disappear overnight. And what’s more, you never really forget about it. Every new step in moving on will bring memories from before. Often, they will be painful. I cried in the cinema during the first film I went and saw after the split, because I remembered that she was there next to me the last time I’d seen one. Other times memories simply just resurface. There are still nights where I can’t sleep because some kind of intense and seething emotion reappears and leaves me rolling around the bedsheets in a hot sweat. Some days there are just hours where I dwell upon what happened, and all of those passions return to haunt me for a while. But equally, there are days where I don’t. It seems to me that the more time passes, and the more familiar I become with these feelings, the less effect they have on me. It is a slow progression, and even if you won’t ever forget, things do become easier to handle.
  In the first weeks, I felt so horrifically crushed and alone that I would often drink myself senseless, just to avoid feeling anything at all. It was near impossible to push her out of my mind, and out of my dreams – on the rare occasion where I did sleep. I felt as if I would never get better until we were together again. And yet, as time passed, and as I allowed myself to psychologically process those emotions, I began to come to terms with it. It is simply a matter of pushing through, and of understanding what you’re feeling. With myself, eventually it began to stop being trauma and drifted into merely a painful memory of quite a shitty first love. It really is only time that helps with a broken heart.
  Perhaps illustratively, the other day I walked up to that tree on Black Mountain, where I had cut her name into its trunk all those months ago. The bark was peeling with the season, and the words were literally flaking off the old sapling. What I had intended to be a monument that would last forever was, quite literally, slowly vanishing.

  Anonymous

• Weird Sh*t People Say on Dates

  February 14, 2019 10:30 am Comments Off on Weird Sh*t People Say on Dates

  Woroni TV wants to hear the best zingers you’ve been subjected to when on the dating scene for an upcoming video ‘Weird Sh*t People Say on Dates’! If you’ve heard anything great, hella cute, random or one-liners which you think would make students gag enter it below ??????????????????????

  Woroni Editor

• Love Me Tinder

  April 17, 2018 3:17 pm Comments Off on Love Me Tinder

  The recently-released Netflix series “Hot Girls Wanted” makes for some fascinating viewing. Originally a standalone documentary film directed by Rashida Jones (of Parks and Recreation fame), it has now been extended into a full series. The original documentary focused on the pornography industry from the perspective of women involved in it. Perhaps “ensnared” is a better word than “involved” for the specific situations it spotlights – it was some dark stuff at times. This series, by contrast, is exploring a much broader range of themes related to sexuality, gender and how these topics play out in modern society.
  Technological progress, in the form of Tinder and other apps, appears to have changed the dating game dramatically. The episode “Love me Tinder” focused on a 40-year-old guy who is pretty much addicted to Tinder (and its ilk) and casual relationships with girls much younger than him. From one perspective, he is perhaps the quintessential fuckboi – a guy who seems incapable of seeing women as anything more than objects of pleasure, and importantly, objects to be discarded when they stop being “fun”. Whether justified or not, this guy seems to believe he now has an effectively endless supply of new partners, and this makes it easy for him to move on to the next one at the first signs of “trouble” (that is, having to actually work on a relationship).
  A profound moment in the episode is set against the backdrop of one of his developing relationships with a girl who – unlike many others – challenges him and asserts herself in ways he’s not used to. At one point, he invites her to a party that she can’t attend because she has work. When she asks if he’s drunk, the texts quickly escalate into an argument:
  Are you drunk?
  It’s not weird to get drunk at a BBQ with friends.
  It’s weird when I’m 25, and I’m getting texts from a 40-year-old I’m dating while he’s partying on a Monday. Not trying to sound like a bitch, but does that make sense?
  I’m sorry that you feel 40 is too old to have a great time with friends. Hopefully when you reach that age you will still enjoy life like I do.
  Whoah, I wasn’t going that route. I’m sorry if I upset you. I like you.
  Great to meet you. Wish you the best.
  And just like that, the relationship is over. It’s eye-popping how quickly and casually he decides to end it, but in the context of how this guy operates, and in the context of what technology makes possible for him, it makes sense. He can find a new girl to date with ease, so why bother with the ones that talk back? What’s profound about it to me is that he doesn’t seem either willing, or capable (perhaps both) to work through a fight with someone, even just a little one.
  But that’s what lasting relationships demand. Whether it’s a three-month thing, a long-term relationship or a lifelong commitment like marriage, relationships inevitably bring conflict. Even the happiest of couples will fight somewhere along the way. How people resolve that tension – how they communicate, how they see their partners, how committed they are to making it past that moment and learning/growing together from it – is a huge determinant of the long term success of that relationship.
  What this episode makes me wonder is the following: If a guy never engages in that process, how the hell does he ever learn the difficult work of building a stable, healthy relationship? As the episode suggests, he doesn’t. He remains locked in hollow, permanent adolescence. In this way, the episode serves as a powerful insight into modern masculinity and how it can be shaped by larger structural forces.
  In this case, one obvious force is that of technology, which has evidently impacted this individual’s approach to relationships. Yet also, part of how he behaves is arguably driven by structural forces far older than Tinder. For the longest time, men have been socialized, especially by the media, to believe that success as a man can be determined by how many different beautiful women you sleep with, or how many “babes” you have draped on your shoulder. Part of what makes James Bond an icon of masculinity and success is that he has a different, new, and beautiful woman to bed each film.
  Such ideas are seemingly on their way out, groaning under the weight of their age and a broad social movement pushing for better representations of both men and women in the media. Yet also, we can see that this old idea has had new life breathed into it, perhaps, by technology that makes it far easier to turn that broken fantasy into a reality.
  The episode is a rollercoaster of a story: you pretty much loathe the guy to begin with, and later (perhaps) come to pity him a little. At some point I stopped seeing just a fuckboi, and started seeing a broken man instead. An individual shaped by larger, structural forces that socialized him to believe and value the things he did, and in doing so, offered him the means to create his own gilded prison. That side of the story unsettles me and makes me concerned for this generation’s men. They not only face the same pressures of socialization I did a generation ago, but also the emergence of technology that normalizes it in ways the media never could. They face challenges we should all be mindful of.
  Equally, it makes me concerned for this generation’s women. Often posited as the asymmetrically dominant power in the domain of online dating, the episode suggests that they remain vulnerable to mistreatment and that, despite its newness, apps like Tinder can still act as vehicle that lets antiquated, misogynistic ideas about women reappear once again into the modern world.

  Nick Blood

• My Recent Interest In Men’s Rights Has Absolutely Nothing To Do With My Chronic Case Of Foot Fungus, I Assure You

  March 7, 2018 2:49 pm Comments Off on My Recent Interest In Men’s Rights Has Absolutely Nothing To Do With My Chronic Case Of Foot Fungus, I Assure You

  Firstly, I’d like to request that you stop pointing it out as I am very much aware of the social isolation due to this wicked odour. There is no correlation between my newfound interest in MRA forums and this ongoing fungal exile. I have been the unknowing subject of many investigations into the ‘mystery smell’ pervading certain Arndt tutorial rooms and whilst I am legally obligated to apologise to those who had to seek medical treatment, it does not come easy to me.
  The mere fact that I may not be a successful romantic due to a microbial infection has no bearing on my astute analysis of the rights of men and women. I have dedicated many hours to pondering over the great thinkers of the Youtube Philosopher generation. They have led me to  a conclusion which is in no way influenced by the cloud of rage which hovers over me, choking me in my own noxious gases as my feet re-odorise the tutorial room.
  Furthermore, I find people that point it out rather superficial. I am not concerned with the physical plane of interaction, but rather devote my time to higher intellectual pleasures – philosophy, debate, et cetera. I have no time for superficial people. It’s known in the science of biology that only animals of crude nature select their sexual partners based upon physical traits, and that the true aphrodisiacal characteristic of man is his intellect.
  Please note that my designation of such people as superficial emerges not from a default position of excessive defensiveness, and if it did, it certainly wouldn’t be because I’m terribly insecure over my extremely stinky feet. I would be happy to engage you in a civil discussion at the digital podium. You can find me online at the ‘ANU Schmidtposting’ (note that I use an anime image as my display picture in order to keep my identity secret). Please give me ample time to respond to your comment, as in between brine-baths for my feet and cross-referencing your points to a home made chart of logical fallacies, I don’t have much time on my hands.
  Thanks.

  Will Fletcher

• Local Youth Recovers After Risky Tag

  September 19, 2017 4:40 pm Comments Off on Local Youth Recovers After Risky Tag

  Casual observers and invested stakeholders alike have been left astounded by social media behaviour that has been labelled ‘unprecedented’, after Sam Brown, 21, of Daley Road, tagged Amelia Thistlethwaite, 21, of Ainslie, in a video of a baby deer learning how to jump.
  Sources close to the pair report that Thistlethwaite was left rattled by the shockingly public act of deeply intimate Facebook tagging. The pair have only been on two half-hearted dates, buffered by slightly-less-than-infrequent, 3 am post-Civic bouts of ‘deeply average’ heterosexual intercourse.
  ‘I mean, it was completely out of the blue,’ Thistlethwaite reportedly stated. ‘He goes to Johns. He has a stunted man bun. He wears Hawaiian shirts to Mooseheads in winter. I just didn’t think this was his style.’
  Thistlethwaite’s concern was compounded by the fact that the tag in question occurred at 7.30 pm on a Friday night, a time roundly described by her mates as ‘unsettlingly family-friendly’.
  The wounded Brown received no acknowledgement from Thistlethwaite in the comment section, but plenty of flak from his friends at college dinner. He is preparing to return to his proven method of attracting and securing the interest of women: sending increasingly sporadic flirty bants at uncomfortable hours over ever-more ephemeral means of communication, and generally displaying the emotional range of a sprouting potato.

  Zoe O’Leary Cameron