Lesson Thirty-One: Men Do Make Good Husbands and Housewives.

Ladies - here's a question for you. What is a good husband? Does one even exist? Allow me to introduce you to the man I believe is the world's best husband and I doubt he even knows it. I have a very good friend is who about to celebrate his 40th this month, a good friend whom I met 17 years ago at the New Zealand School Of Broadcasting in Christchurch. It was the very first day, all 70 or so of us met in the television studio and I saw him instantly and went and sat next to him. This tall smiling, Maori from Hawkes Bay wearing ORANGE knee-length denim shorts, a PURPLE hoodie and a really long ponytail. "Aaron Munro" he said as he introduced himself to me, "But my friends call me Goose".

Me: "What should I call you?"
Aaron: "A cab if I need one..." and he cracks up at his own joke.
Me: "You need to sharpen those wits Goose", and we've been friends ever since.

Goose loves orange and purple.....separately and as you saw me describe, together. And he could carry them off as well - I mean who's going to question the fashion of a tall Maori, in white-country Christchurch with a ponytail?

We spent two years studying together, drinking together (he used to drink 'Flame' beer by the box back then) and are still friends today.

Goose is the epitome of what we gals desire in a husband. I'm assuming here, but when a bride stands at the altar and says, "I do" to her betrothed, she wants a strong, protective, loving man who can laugh with her, support her, learn and grow with her and unconditionally love her.

That is what Goose does every day with his wife Grace. He is as in love with her today as he has ever been and it's been over a decade since they were married. They have experienced a lot together including Grace's recent, very serious health concerns. Goose was and remains at her side every step of the way. He's never questioned, never judged, never said a bad or nasty word against her, but is also not afraid to show how in love he is with her, and how they are best friends. They laugh, they talk about everything, he listens, he knows she loves Facebook and can and will spend two hours talking to her sister on the phone and he never gets upset or anise.  He is great around the house, very domestic and I'd go so far to say he's the brown, male version of Martha Stewart.

I can go around to their house and talk about anything and everything and despite the rolling eyes (Goose) and laughs at my expense (again, Goose), I feel great just being around these two.

So Ladies, the next time your husband pisses you off, or that guy you've been dating turns out to be an absolute tool....never fear that things aren't going to get better. Don't soak in cynicism and think, "All men are idiots" because Goose is proof that all men aren't, and if there is one Goose out there, there's bound to be hundreds more. (PS Goose before you start to get all 'Billy T' on me, remember it takes a pretty great woman to make a good man, excellent.)

Lesson Thirty: Get Off Your Arse And Make Lemonade.

Everyone needs a Trevor in their life.

Trevor West isn't someone who is really close to me - he's definitely
someone I would love to have in my life every day if I could. I met Trevor through some mutual great friends we have and have had the chance on a few occasions to knock back a few drinks and have some laughs. (It's fair to say that I probably had a bit of a fleeting crush during one of those meetings.)

I have always wanted to be that person that left a lasting mark on someone - in a positive way. (Er,  not a physical way like on their face or bedsheets!) And I fondly remember men who have come in and out of my life and really made me think or feel. Trevor is one of those guys.

When I was made redundant last November it was as though I was diagnosed with some weird flesh-eating disease. Noone knew what to say to me, so they either politely ignored me apart from a nod of the head as they walked past or even worse, a pat on the head.  (NB: Apart from my Father who was the first person I called when I opted to step out of my 16 years in radio. (Love you Dad!)

One or two weeks into my "new life" I got this amazing email from Trevor. He lives in Sydney, Australia, is in a wonderful and loving relationship with a pretty solid, great paying job that he was pretty damn good at. Trev emailed to say he was enjoying my blog, and that, like me,  he had been made redundant six weeks prior. I felt a huge sense of relief that something so shit was actually happening to someone else, and someone I really rated. Then instead reading words like, "So Tarsh, I know just how you feel, chin up old girl...." this random but well timed email went on to say, "It's probably the best thing that ever happened to me. Off to Nepal tomorrow for a hike for three weeks."


And off he went - just a few weeks shy of Christmas, Trevor waved goodbye to his long-term partner, and went to Nepal where he grew a beard and dug his own toilet. Without even realizing it, Trevor inspired me to get off my arse and turn lemon's into lemonade. Sure I didn't hike for weeks getting food poisoning and only showering a couple of times, but goddamnit I got my A into G.

It's those unexpected heroes that come into my life that make such a difference on how I see things. I've long been the girl that has looked after herself and trusted that I will know exactly what to do. But you know, sometimes if you really want it, that help comes along wearing a cowboy hat and a big smile and doesn't use the word "advice".  The Boyfriend joked recently that I sort of stumble along in my own way but I get there in the end. And unfortunately I do go through experiences like it's my first time on heels - but eventually I get that catwalk strut that I need to get it done and swim around in my homemade lemonade - and one day I'll share a glass with Trevor.

Lesson Twenty-Nine: Think (Tarsh) Before You Speak.

Thinking before you speak - I really thought I was starting to nail this concept as I got older. I was wrong.

Steve Joll - devoted husband, loving and proud father-of-three, baker, gym-bunny, really genuine good guy, and breakfast radio guy on The Breeze.  To this day, I still cringe when I think about what happened. (I bet he's racking his brain trying to figure out where this is going.)

I first met Steve Joll several years ago during one of the annual Radio Bootcamps. (i.e.: you have a few hours with a radio consultant and then a night out with endless grog talking crap and banging ego's with radio announcers from around the country. Ahhh - those were the days!)  I was sitting at the bar and we started chatting and he goes, "Sorry who are you?" I went, "Oh, um, Tarsh" he goes, "Ahh from the Edge, yeah I've heard you - you're pretty good eh?".  And not in a greasy way, in a really genuine way and I knew who he was so I was chuffed. Years later I moved to Mediaworks Wellington where Steve was also based and realized pretty quickly what a big deal he is in this town - without begin a jerk about it.  I remember the time I was heading into the city to meet up with him and some other friends for a few drinks, I'm running late and forced to sprint for the bus in my pink high heels and there's Steve's face in full glory on the back of it. He thought it was hilarious when I told him later on - Tarsh rarely chases any men.

Steve is one of those guys who will always help you out and one of those people I always wanted to leave with a good impression of myself. Major fail, here's what happened.

Steve had the same morning pre-show routine. Takes his shoes off as soon as he gets to work and pads around in his socks, has a cup of tea and that Kellog's Crunch for breakfast.

So one morning we're both in the kitchen - it's like 5AM and I'm on my second cup of coffee so got a nice buzz going. We're talking about a politician getting a stomach stapling operation and I'm shooting my mouth off - it went something like this.

Me: "Yeah - I can't believe that Tariana Tuira is getting her stomach stapled...!!"
Steve: "Mmmmm...."
Me: "I mean - why the heck do we need to pay for someone who just ate too many pies??"
Steve: ".....uh-huh. Poo..." sniffs the milk "Someone left this milk out again....geez I dunno..."
Me: (not getting that he's trying to change the subject) "Yesterday on air we at talked about having to fund her stomach stapling operation and do you know what I said?"
Steve:  Silent apart front the spoon going around and around in his cup of tea.
Me: "I go, you know what Tariana Turia - I have two words for you. Running Shoes!" And I cracked up.
Steve: Looks at me and goes, "Um...she's my Aunt."
Me: "Whatever Steve..."
Steve: "Tariana Turia is my Aunt. Honestly."
Me: "Oh.......sorry man......" but still not sure if he's having me on or not.
Steve: "It's okay, just thought I better tell you before you went any further..."
And he picked his bowl of cereal and cuppa and walked out.
I felt so stink. I went all warm and started sweating. Damnit I'd done it again.

And to be honest, I have no idea whether he was telling the truth or not, but I've never made a joke about Aunty Tariana Turia again.

Lesson Twenty-Eight: Guys Are Just As Concerned About Their Weight...

Good news ladies, it's not just us who worry if our arse looks fat in our jeans. It's not just us who have regrets after eating our fifth moro bar or second bottle of wine, sucking in our muffin tops as we sip away. Hell, I'm the perfect example. I went to a wedding at the weekend and even after two courses and god knows how many glasses of Chardonnay, I still gobbled up a pie from the service station in New Plymouth, mumbling between bites how far I'd have to run the next day.

Needless to say I never went for that run, however I can now take a backseat to the real star of this story. The Boyfriend. Now, I really love the way he looks - his face and his body. He's tall, he's manly and he's strong. However, he has become a little obsessed with his weight  - he weighs himself a lot, he comments on what food he's eating and then he discovered a website. Now this website is full of like-minded individuals who go from couch-potato chubs to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s over the gradual course of a year - and that's just the women.

The other day I go around to his place expecting a relaxing evening in when he pulls out the measuring tape and tells me to get the camera ready. (And no, the measuring tape wasn't for measuring THAT - it's not long enough anyway.....scoff.)

The Boyfriend has joined this body sculpting website where thousands of people around the world document their weights, measurements and photos to prove that they are transforming themselves. This website also features videos on how to measure neck, chest, bicep, triceps, calves and thighs. So I had to watch EVERY video in its entirety, and then proceed to measure his body parts EXACTLY like they did. I was then given a lesson on how to use some calipers and then preceded to measure his body fat. An hour and a half later (did I mention how I was expecting a relaxing night?) I then had to take photos of his naked upper half, without his face (think the sleazy male photos on www.nzdating.com) until he approved.

All this information is to be loaded onto this website so we can watch his progress through his regular updates as he turns into a mean, fighting, muscly machine. The Boyfriend will do it too - not because he's vain or out to impress, because he's stubborn.

Now, I'd love to show you his progress - however I got the stern word, the hard look and the threat of ending our relationship should the photos stored in my iPhone ever go public. Just as well I saved them in my hard drive here and at work then eh?

Lesson Twenty Seven: Guys Do Remember The Small Things.

I have always thought, through my experiences with men, that guys brains just don’t function like ours do. I mean we girls are all about the details, from matching our lipstick to our shoes, to remembering what aftershave a man wears to the exact wording of a text message we got 12 months ago.

We don’t give our guys enough credit – because they actually do remember the small things. Ok – so The Boyfriend LISTENS but doesn’t HEAR.

Here’s one example that happened about a month ago.

Me: “So my younger sister Krystle is getting engaged – how cool is that?”

Him: “Is that the one who lives in Australia?”

Me: “No, this one lives in Auckland – remember – the one younger than me, the only sister you haven’t met”.

Him: “Oh…yeah yeah….I know the one.”

Two weeks later.

Me: “So my sister finally got engaged in Bali. How cool is that?”

Him: “Is that the older sister who lives in Australia?”.

See – the little things he forgets. I know he was listening but, as usual, he wasn’t HEARING what I was saying.

Or so I thought.

I’m at his place, beer in hand, and chippies to my right, watching the sevens. He’s watching a video on YouTube on how to iron a shirt. (seriously, I am not making this up!) So, he starts carefully ironing his new, fitted black shirt that he looks very sexy in, and he had some very stylish pants ready to iron as well.

Now, The Boyfriend is a very handsome man, however he’s a jeans and jandals guy and in the seven months we’ve been together, I’ve seen him dressed up only three times. The first time was on our first “proper date”, the second, at my work farewell and the third, for my birthday.

So as I watched him learn the perfect ironing technique via YouTube, I thought, “His workmates are so lucky to see him dressed up and looking sexy”.

Two days later, as we sat at the beach eating pizza it went like this: -

Me: “I was watching you ironing your clothes and, I felt very envious of your workmates who get to see you all dressed up”.

Him: “I knew you were thinking that. However, I was I was learning how to correctly iron my shirt not for work. I figure we’ll be going out for dinner on Valentines Day…”  Cue the pause for effect…

Me: speechless

Him: “…so I was getting my clothes ready to wear for Feb 14^th because you've mentioned that you hardly ever see me dressed up."  

Me: Amazed, speechless and very, very chuffed that that little detail, he remembered. 

LESSON TWENTY-SIX: You'd Be Surprised At What A Man Thinks Is Sexy.

This made me laugh out loud while having brunch with The Boyfriend this morning. We’re at a café, I’m jotting down ideas for an award-winning novel I’m going to write one day and he’s happily flicking through the latest NW magazine.  As we wait for our order to arrive I’m conscious he’s looking at the “Hottest Bikini Bodies” issues. Now ten years ago my insecure self would have cancelled my order of bacon and egg ciabatta and gone with the fruit salad. However I sat there feeling quite secure and then he goes, “Ohhh… that’s not sexy. How can they say that’s sexy?”

I casually look over expecting to see a Rosanne Barr or Oprah tabloid shot and instead it’s the very slim bikini gals like Lea Michelle from Glee and Elle McPherson.  The typical females you'd think men would find attractive in their bikini's. Then we start to say which ones we both think are sexy – and it’s the “curvy” ones. Kim Kardashian, Jenny McGrath and Halle Berry – yep, the booby gals. (I think to myself, well I’ve hardly got the same bikini body – but tick for the boobs.)

I go back to my notes and as he’s flicking through the magazine he comes across an advertisement for 'Blackmore’s Pro-definition' - a product for building a lean, toned body. One the left is a really bulked up, muscly female and opposite her is a more toned, leaner lady.

Him: “Now that’s sexy”.

Me: “Which one.”

Him: “The muscly one.”

Me: “What the…? The really bulky chick that looks like a dude – why is that sexy…. Yuk.”

Him: “Well she’s a bit TOO big, but it looks good, besides I know all the effort she’s gone to get that big.”

Me: “So, it’s the effort she took to look like that is what makes this sexy?”

Him: “Yeah, I guess so – and it looks good”.

To be honest, that shocked me more than him ogling over a photo of Kim Kardashian or Salma Hayek.  I mean, this woman was really, really muscly, And it reminded me of a recent comment he’d made last week while walking past a bodybuilder protein shake display: -

Him: “You know baby, you’d make a great bodybuilder.”

Me: (instantly offended) “Why – because you think I’m fat?”

Him: “No you drama – because you’re stubborn enough to do the training. Body builders are lean and disciplined, I never said weight-lifter.”

Now, even though it took me a while to process that feedback, I prefer he said that to me, as it’s closer to what I can achieve, rather than say he wants a Kate Moss or Coco (Ice T's wife with the big booty).  Still – I made sure I left some of that buttery bacon and egg ciabata on the plate next to that magazine when we left. 

Lesson Twenty-Four: Sometimes A Man Just Wants To Be Held.

Believe it or not, I’m being totally serious. I have heard these words uttered out of the mouths of two men in the last few years. Two, straight men I was involved with. They’re not words I ever thought I’d hear a man say because you learn as a girl, that all men want, is a shag. Apparently this isn't the case with all men. 

Teenage years: You start to see guys as attractive and start having feelings for them. You start exchanging notes (or these days ‘Facebook/texts’). You go through your first crush and normally your first boyfriend and learn that boys hormones mean they’re just after one thing.

Twenties: You go through your first heartbreak, you feel what it means to be jealous, you start to get competitive with your girlfriends for a man’s attention and more often or not you have your first one night stand and learn that men just want one thing.

Thirties: Marriage, children and sometimes divorce. You learn that men just want one thing, except often it’s not from you.

Forties plus: Houses, travel and for the odd group, Internet dating. You learn that men just want one thing….from someone a lot younger than you.

Through all of those phases you see men as sexual creatures who think about sex all the time. And from your teenage years you’re warned that a guy, “Just wants one thing”. You read in magazines and see in movies that men are sexual creatures who spent their days chasing tail – and some of them never stop chasing regardless of their status.

So all men just want sex right? Wrong. Well in my case it is and I’m sure after men marinate this information they too would probably admit this sometimes applies to them.

I first heard the words from my last ex said to me over a few too many sake’s one night, “Tarsh….I don’t just want to have sex with you, sometimes, I just want to be held”. I nearly choked in my Asahi. I’d never ever had a guy say that to me before. In fact I’d never ever heard a guy say that before, not in a cheesy Mills & Boon book or on an episode of Melrose Place.  

Then the latest beau also said to me one lazy afternoon as we lay on the beach, “Tarsh, you know, sometimes I just want to be held. Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t just use me as a sexual object”.  At first I thought he was kidding so I punched him in the shoulder. He wasn’t kidding. I thought to myself, “oh how things change – I used to want to hug my boyfriends but they’d go reaching for first base and now they want to be held”. I’m not an over-sexed nympho. I’m not a demanding sexual fiend. But perhaps I’m not, “comforting enough” or “ sensitive” to their needs.  So, I became the world’s best hugger. I hugged the ex everyone morning until we split and I hug The Boyfriend, a lot. I’m not sure I’m comfortable saying I “hold” him. But I know for a fact that he’ll be even less comfortable with me telling you that it was something he specifically asked for. 

Lesson Twenty-Three: No Man Is Worth Fighting Over!

I was 11-years-old and in Form One at Papakura Intermediate. There was a boy in my class called Karl Blank who was just a friend, but I secretly had a crush on him and enjoyed him teasing me during class.

A new girl had started at our school called, Michelle Brennan. She was English, loud and liked to be the centre of attention.  I took an instant disliking to her – mainly because Karl also started to tease her and she used to flick her hair in this really annoying way, which I later learnt was “flirting”.

Karl had unknowingly become the centre of our affections and we started to become a little competitive with one another. Pretty soon our friends and classmates started to take sides and before I knew it, a rumble had been arranged after school between Michelle and I over Karl Blank.

The day came and I was absolutely shitting myself – I was little, I was shy and I was not the fighting type of girl. The 3 PM bell went and there was this rush to the Settlement Road school exit and by the time I got there, a whole bunch of kids were waiting. I remember thinking, “Oh my god, how am I going to get out of this….maybe I can talk to her”.  I walk up, encouraged by my friends who are telling me that I can “take her” and not to worry. Within seconds I’m standing, facing Michelle while this huge group of kids had formed a circle around us. She goes to say something to me (I later found it was her wanting to just walk away) when someone pushed me from behind and I fell into her. Michelle figured I was starting the fight and before I know it hands are hitting my head and face and I got so angry and scared that adrenalin took over and I just punched and hit back. The whole thing last less than 30 seconds and we both had scratches and marks on our faces and necks, we’d pulled each others hair, she ripped my coral necklace off me and I tore her shirt before a teacher broke it up.  

I walked home feeling a bit sad but slightly triumphant. The next day Michelle and I were both legends at school, no one had been declared the winner, but her and I become friendly after that and even laughed about the stupid fight.  As for Karl Blank – neither of us ever told him what that fight was about, and the following week we found out he’d been going around with Jennifer Brimming for a month anyway.

Lessons learnt: Fighting is downright stupid; don’t get pushed into something you don’t want too do and no man is worth physically fighting over. Ever.

Lesson Twenty-Two: Men Gossip As Much As Women.

Last week I was over at a good friend’s house having a few drinks on the deck as the sun was setting, and the conversation went like this: -

Host: “Ohh yeah, she got her stomach stapled and she looks REALLY good – size 12 now”.

Friend one: “Yeah but she needed too, wow she ballooned right out…”

Friend two: “She was the biggest I’ve ever seen her, and once she got the go ahead for the op she just went crazy eating everything she could…”

Group laugh. Correction, group of men all laughed together before going on to talk about why IPhones are superior to Samsung’s. I was the only gal there and I had to chuckle to myself while listening to these guys having a conversation that we girls often get judged for.  And then there’s the banter I witnessed at home between The Boyfriend and my male housemate.

The Boyfriend: “She does anything for money – that marriage was a complete sham”.

Housemate: “I know! I feel for the boyfriend or husband or whatever he is. That whole family is such a nightmare. I have no idea why people watch that shit.”

The Boyfriend: “Totally. I was reading on stuff that she was paid something like a million dollars – I mean what is she actually famous for?”

Housemate: “Yeah I think it was the Woman’s Day that said she’s keeping the ring – typical high-maintenance chick”.

The Boyfriend: “Yeah”.

They were talking about Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries. This wasn’t just a one off, as we stopped at the dairy last week during our road trip The Boyfriend jumped back into the car and slammed the door.

Him: “I don’t believe it!"

Me: “What?” (Honestly I’m expecting him to tell me they were out of V drinks or the chippies were overpriced.

Him: “God that bloody Kim Kardashian is adopting a baby! It’s in the latest Woman’s Day….Christ she’ll do anything for attention”.

I had no words.


Women have gossiped for years and as one of those women, I think the difference is that girls can be very nasty and catty, whereas when you overhear the guys, it’s pretty fricken humorous. And I think it’s fair to say that most men I know won’t be afraid to repeat to your face what they say when you’re not there, something not all the girls would be brave enough to do.

Lesson Twenty One: Don't Hint With Men, Be Direct.

We girls are all guilty of this. Hinting to men in our lives instead of telling them exactly what we want. Men Do Not Get Hints!!! 

Example. Younger brother 18 is getting up to go to the toilet.

Him: “Anyone want anything?”

Me: “Yeah, wouldn’t mind a drink if you’re going through the kitchen”.  

He returns with one beer, which he opens and drinks.

Me: “Errr – where’s my beer?”

Him: “You said if I was going through the kitchen, I didn’t, this was in the chilli bin in the laundry”.

He’s a bit of a smartarse who made a valid point. I needed to be clearer and say, “Yeah, can you grab me a beer please. Thanks”.

Another example, this time involving The Boyfriend.

I come back from the shower; he’s still in bed and gets up to use the bathroom.

Me: “Hang on I’ll just make the bed.”

Him: “Where’s my towel?”.

Me: “I dunno, I’m making the bed”. (I'm thinking, “Can’t you see I’m making the bed and how you should naturally help me?”)

Him: “Oh here it is…..”  and off he goes to the shower.

The Boyfriend returns and the bed is all made.

Me: “Why didn’t you help me make the bed?”

Him: “You said’ hang on, I’ll make the bed’. I pulled my side of the duvet up. You never asked me to help you make it”.

Again, the male had a goddamn point. So from now on it’s, “Baby, would you help me make the bed please?”

A wise man once told me that to get a man to do what you want, you use ‘would’ instead of ‘could’. E.g.: “Would you please take out the rubbish” not, “Could you please take out the rubbish”. Apparently when a man hears, “Could” he thinks, “I COULD, but I’m not going too” whereas when the word “Would” is used, he hears a polite request plus there’s no real comeback to it.

Here’s another reason why you need to tell a man exactly what you want. Check out what happened with my friend and her husband.

Him: “Off to the Supermarket – want anything?”

Her: “Surprise me”.

He returns and unpacks the groceries while she sits there, waiting to see what he got her.  He finishes and goes to walk away.

Her: “Hey – what did you get me?”

Him: “Sorry?”

Her: “My surprise – where is it.”

Him: “Well I didn’t know what to get you and it was really busy, so I didn’t bother. Surprise!”

In his mind he didn’t do anything wrong but it took her about three days to see it.  So from now on she always tells him what to get for her.

So, while we’d love our men to read our minds and know exactly what we want and when we want it, they can’t. And trust me – swap the “could” with “would” when you want your guy to do something – it’s subtle but it works. 

Lesson Twenty: Trust Your Boyfriend Can Take Care Of Himself When It Comes To Meeting Your Father.

When a girl introduces a boyfriend to her Father she wants it to go well. My Father has always told my sister's and I that he's not interested in meeting our boyfriends unless we're serious about them. So for only the third time in my life I was introducing a boyfriend to Dad. Needless to say I was nervous, the old man is ex-Army, plus this boyfriend is a bit shy and sometimes the family can be a bit full on.  When I introduced the last boyfriend my Father called him a pansy because he opted to sit in the kitchen talking with the girls rather than jump on the roof and help Dad out.

We pull up at the house I grew up in and everyone was knee-deep gardening and pulling down the obscenely high hedge. Childhood memories of me picking up weeds and lugging hedge clippings down the side of the house to the back yard came flooding back.

The introductions begin as my sweaty family, wearing half the garden on their clothes, came forward to meet this new man.  It was almost like a scene out of Close Encounters when the alien ship landed and the human’s stood around, curious yet apprehensive. Dad’s up first wearing his sweat band around his head, shorts, long socks rolled down to the ankle, sneakers and a polo shirt  - plus headphones in as he was listening to the cricket.

Me: “Dad, this is Craig. Craig this is my Father, Brian”.

They shake hands.

Dad: “Gidday, nice to meet you. Sorry about all the mess” nervous laugh.

The Boyfriend: “Hi there….” nervous laugh… “Yup – looks like you’ve been hard at it.”

I was wondering how this would go as we all gathered on the balcony together and started talking. Pretty soon Dad was telling Craig to, “Please, make yourself at home and help yourself to anything” – definitely a good sign. We were there for a few hours and I thought the boyfriend did well, he was relaxed, he was chatty - to be honest he was just being himself.  However, I was dying to know what the family – and particularly what my Father thought. I go back two days later without The Boyfriend who unfortunately had to work.

Me: “Hey everyone…”

Step Mother/Sisters/Brother collectively: “Hey. Oh….Where’s Craig, why didn’t he come with you….oh what, is he not here?”

Me: “Err – he’s busy….I’m here…”

Brother: “Yeah but we want to see I.T Guy…..”

Sister: “Yeah….”

Me: “What did you think Dad?”

Dad: “Yeah – a bit quiet but seems really nice. How come he didn’t come with you?”

Younger Brother: “Yeah Tarsh…. ring him and ask him to come over.”

Everyone who spent the evening drilling me about him repeated this request throughout the evening.  I never rang him but we went back for dinner a few days later and again he was the center of attention. Looking back I had absolutely nothing to worry about, the only problem now is he gets more attention than I do, a problem I don’t mind having at all.  

Lesson Nineteen: Don't Take Yourself So Seriously.

I believe (and I bet you do too) that people come into your life for a reason. Robert Laloli – awesome builder and talented magician taught me to stop taking myself so seriously.

I met Bobby on the eve of the first Christchurch earthquake, September 2010 – interesting timing, as that’s where he’s from. I’m seated, ordering a drink at the bar when this confident, good looking guy walks up and says, “Hi. Can I buy you a drink?”. Now normally I’d reply with, “I’m good but thanks anyway”. However that night I looked at this guy and went, “Sure, have a seat”. I knew straight away that this guy was okay – that he wasn’t a wowser, a try-hard or a dip-shit….he was a guy I was really keen to get to know, but again I was too serious about it.

Me: “You know there are plenty of single women in this bar and I’ve just finished MCing this party, I’m not here to meet anyone…you should really be talking to them”.

Him: “Well I have done the rounds and chatted to some of the ladies. But right now, I don’t want to talk to anyone else but you.”

Me: “How old are you?”

Him: “26 – why, how old are you?”.

Me: “38 – so, you know, I’m not going to talk about a top I brought at Glasson’s or which character on Shortland Street I really hate. I’m 38 so conversation will be a little different.”

Him: “Have you got any ID?”.

Me: “Sure” and I proudly showed my drivers licence.

He took one look at it and handed it back.

Him: “Well, I never would’ve picked you for 38. And I don’t watch Shortland Street….tell me about yourself”.

And from that one quick glance at my drivers license – Bobby always remembers my birthday. There was definitely some sort of connection there –  but it never really amounted to anything. We hung out, ate out, ate in, played pool, talked a lot about everything from karma and spirituality to why John Campbell is better than Mark Sainsbury.

Bobby taught me two things in the time we spent hanging out.

1.  That chivalry is not dead. I mean this guy always walked on the outside of me. (Men used to do this back in the day to prevent the lady getting wet should a car drive through a puddle.)

2.  That I could be more fun and less serious and enjoy it.

I’ve always had a fun streak, a party girl attitude and love playing wicked games and taking a few risks. I wanted to retain all of that, whilst not take myself too literally and seriously. And somehow this cocky little 26-year-old helped me balance that out just by being around him and seeing how balanced he was/is. You know how you sometimes think people come into your life for a reason? Well that was his for me. Although, I’m still racking my brain to figure out what the reason was for me being in his life. I'm hoping that it was to show him we "older ladies" are not all crusty cougars. 

Lesson Eighteen: Stop Assuming!

This is a lesson I know for a fact that most woman will relate to and understand. Whereas it’s a lesson most men could also relate to, but not understand. By the way, this is also my most embarrassing blog to date.  It’s when we ladies read into everything a man says and does, and then assume the absolute worst, ridiculous scenario that can often lead to an argument.

Case in point. The Boyfriend and I went post-Christmas shopping and he isn’t fond of parking in busy mall car parks. His patience is at an all time low when it comes to finding the closest vacancy to the doors. So he opts to park in the first one he finds which is usually the fartherest one away.

I think, “Ohmigod. We’re parking this far away? Well I better not ask him to park closer because then he’ll think I’m lazy”. Too late, because as usual my brain has failed to remind my mouth to remain closed.

Me: “Why are you parking so far away, we’re bound to get one closer.”

Him: “No we won’t and I refuse to drive around and around, the place is packed.”

Me: “You think I’m fat don’t you.”

Him: “WHAT?”.

Me: “That’s why you parked so far away, because you think I need the exercise!”

Him: “First of all, I don’t think you’re fat, secondly, as I said, I refuse to drive around for half an hour finding another one…this is as good as any and thirdly – you’re being ridiculous. Come on.”

Yeah I know, “Ohmigod Tarsh, you’re an idiot”.  I feel like an idiot re-telling that story, but seriously, that’s how some of us ladies think. And I’m not fishing for a compliment or looking for sponsorship from Jenny Craig, all I’m saying is we girls do assume the stupidest crap.

I’m not the only one. Conversation overheard in the supermarket after a guy answers his phone while shopping with what appears to be his girlfriend and her friend.

Him: “I have to take this conversation outside, back in a minute”.

Her: “Why can’t you talk in here, who is it?”

Him: “It’s bloody work and I just need to sort this out where I can hear them.”

And out he walks.

Her to her friend: “I bet it’s not Max, it’ll be that bitch Carmen!”

Friend: “I doubt it, it sounded pretty important.”

Her: “I’ll get hold of his phone later and check anyway. Ewww look Pantene’s on special…”

Whether it was Max or not is irrelevant, look at what she assumed straight away. It happens all the time.

Seriously that old saying you’ve heard “Never assume, it makes an ASS of U and ME” is very true, except I’d like to change it too, “Don’t assume, It makes an ASS of U in front of ME” and I know The Boyfriend would agree.