Not Meeting Mr Right (16 page)

I woke on Christmas Eve to the sound of the garbage
truck making its way up the hill. I'd missed them. I'd
never missed them before – I couldn't believe it. I ran
downstairs just in case I was wrong, but I was so tuned
in to the sound of that truck I was sure I was right.
The problem was, I'd been sleeping so soundly since
meeting Perfect Paul that I was always dreaming, not
wanting to wake.

There it was, though – not just my empty bin back
in its designated spot, but a little present on top of it:
a gorgeous cactus plant in a white porcelain pot with
a red Christmas ribbon round it. Paul must have put
it there after he'd dropped me off the night before. He
was so thoughtful; he'd put my bin out too. Who had
brought the bin in, though? And why hadn't the plant
been stolen? Or ended up in the garbage truck? It didn't
add up. Had Paul come back this morning to drop off
the gift and brought the bin in then? Surely he wouldn't
have had time to do that. No, he definitely wouldn't have
had time. Was I over-analysing again? Probably. I was,
as Dannie would say, one of those women who think too
much. I had to stop. I smiled at the cactus and walked
back upstairs.
He's the one! He's the one!
I told myself.

I was happy but confused. I'd had the most romantic
two weeks of my life with Paul-the-Engineer. We'd spent
nearly every night together since we'd met. We'd eaten
at Café Sydney following a day of Christmas shopping
in the city; had fish and chips at Bondi (and the
backpackers didn't even bother me); gone swimming at
La Perouse at dusk and to a movie at Moonlight Cinema
in Centennial Park. I couldn't even remember what the
film had been, we'd been so absorbed in each other.
He'd planned something special for Christmas Eve as
well. I'd never met a guy who was so well organised,
and I loved it.

Between all of that, we'd also managed to meet
each other's friends over Christmas drinks. Everyone
commented on how lovely we looked together. And we
did. I knew it, he knew it, but neither of us actually said
it to the other.

There was just one thing wrong: I couldn't help
wondering when I might get the chance to grip on
something other than his bicep. I called Dillon for his
opinion.

'Look Alice, it sounds like he's into you.' Phew!
'Thing is, all men want the same outcome; it's just that
some take a different route to get there. Some take the
direct line and expect it straight away; nice guys will go
round the long way; but essentially it's the same goal.'

'That makes sense to me. He's a really nice guy. He
probably hasn't even been thinking about it that much.
He's very respectful of women.'

'Okay Al, now you're just being naive. He's thinking
about it all right. He's just respectful, as you say, though
I reckon strategic might be a better word. Either way,
he doesn't sound like he's gay, and he calls you and you
have dates, right?'

'Yes, lots of calls and dates. And he gave me a cactus.
Mum and Dad have met him, and they thought he was
gorgeous. Mum's been calling me every day asking
about him. She reckons we'd have beautiful kids.' Her
calls hadn't even bothered me really. At least she was no
longer trying to set me up with Cliff, and she'd stopped
accusing me of lesbianism.

'You know she means
she'd
have beautiful grandkids.'
We both laughed.

'Yeah, I really wish she wouldn't confuse her desire
for me to procreate with my desire at the immediate
time to get laid.'

'Okay, too much information. I don't want to hear
my sister speak like that, so I'm going. Good luck.'
Dillon hung up, but I felt better for having spoken to
him. I settled down to wait for Paul to pick me up for
our Christmas Eve date.

***

At twelve-thirty my buzzer rang and I grabbed my
handbag and headed out the door, feeling comfortable
in my white linen dress with navy flowers. I'd dropped
two kilograms in the last couple of weeks, with
excitement and increasing infatuation overtaking my
appetite.

Paul looked gorgeous as ever, casual but sexy as hell.
We drove towards the city and I tried to guess where
he was taking me for lunch. He parked the car at the
Park Hyatt and walked me to a room on the third floor
overlooking the harbour. On the balcony was a feast of
delights: fruits, cheeses and a cold seafood platter to
die for.

'I hope you don't think this is too forward of me,
but Merry Christmas, princess.' He kissed my hand
and passed me a glass of champagne. It was the perfect
moment. I pulled him close to me and we got lost in
a passionate kiss. Always hopeful, I'd shaved my legs
that morning just in case. I'm sure it didn't matter to
him at all, but I felt glad I had as he ran his tongue up
my legs and then kissed my knees. My knees! Who'd
have thought they were an erogenous zone? It certainly
wasn't something I'd ever talked about with the girls –
but I would be. Toe-sucking yes, but knee kisses never.
This was new for me.

Move higher, move higher, move higher, get to the
thighs, get to the thighs.
I was impatient with desire.
Just one quick orgasm would be enough to satisfy me –
and then we could take the next four slowly. He was
relishing every moment of making me wait, though.
He'd get his – and he did, after I got mine.

***

We finally got to the food on the balcony later in the
afternoon and we were ravenous. Luckily everything
was still almost edible. We left the oysters – too risky –
but devoured just about everything else on offer, then I
devoured Paul again, the most delicious of the lot.

The evening played out much the same. Paul made
up for years of selfish lovers I'd suff ered, and we both
agreed that once you'd had Black you'd never look
back.

'Life doesn't get much better than this,' Paul said.
Suddenly I felt my Christmas gift of a CD and a tie
weren't half as romantic as his offerings. Paul loved
them nonetheless, and I'm sure he understood that
a teacher's wage went nowhere near an engineer's
income.

***

I woke to the sun streaming through the balcony
doors.

'Merry Christmas, princess.' Paul handed me a card.
It was signed, 'To many more together, Paul.' Enclosed
was another envelope and inside, two tickets to the
Sydney Symphony Orchestra in January.

'Wow, I've always wanted to see them. How did you
know?'

'Our friend Peta gave me a whole long list of things I
could buy you. I thought I'd start at the bottom of it and
work up. Thought it might have been a little too soon
for the diamond brick.'

'I'll kill her, and thank her at the same time.' I went
blood-red. I was already embarrassed at the expense
Paul had gone to. I'd spent years paying for men who'd
rather buy beer than food and rather place bets than
book tickets or weekends away, though, so I figured it
was karma – my turn to be spoilt.

Wanting to make the most of my Hyatt experience,
I had one last lazy shower before we headed off to
spend the rest of the day at my parents' house. Lunch
was lovely, loads of food and laughs and presents. Dad
played the perfect host, making sure the home-brew
was flowing. We didn't have one family fight, and for the
first time, we all had partners at the same time. Larissa
and Arnie's girlfriend Cindy had both come along.

Arnie, Dillon and I carried out the family tradition
and played hours of board games. Paul was a star at
Trivial Pursuit, but wouldn't indulge in Twister. I was
glad to opt out, not wanting to split already underpressure-
from-lunch seams. Arnie and Paul laughed
hysterically at each other's childish jokes and I saw a side
of my brother I'd never really appreciated before. He was
a very funny guy, and easygoing to boot. I watched him
all afternoon and saw why the girls liked him so much.
While Dillon was wise, Arnie was fun. And tall, dark
and handsome. He got the best of both Mum and Dad.

'Hey Paul, pull my bonbon,' Arnie said for the third
time, 'Trust me.' And they both killed themselves
laughing again, as Arnie acted like an old man and
farted every time Paul pulled on the other end of the
cracker. I blamed it on the after-meal schnapps we'd
all had. Another Austrian tradition Dad carried out on
special occasions: either everyone at the table had a
nip or no-one did. There was terrible pressure on those
who didn't want to drink, but then again, I'd never met
a non-drinking Austrian. Funny thing was, contrary to
media perceptions, I'd met quite a few non-drinking
Kooris.

'Time for a spell, you two funny guys.' Larissa was
holding her belly, sore from enjoying the laughs all
afternoon. 'Let's perv on Michael Bublé for a while,' and
she loaded a DVD into the machine. Everyone collapsed
to spend the rest of the day in front of the telly.

Mum called me to the kitchen. 'Well?'

'Well what?' I was confused.

'Well, what's going on with you two? You look
perfect together.'

'It's only been two weeks, Mum and, yes, he is a bit
perfect.'

'You know if you're a bitch to this one, you
will
grow
old all by yourself. You'll
have
to become one of those
lesbians, then. Is that what you want? I'm starting to
think it might be.' I didn't even bite. It was clear where
my irrational genes had come from.

I looked at Paul again, his eyes fixed on the movie,
his profile just gorgeous. Dillon was sitting with Larissa
and Arnie was with Cindy, whom he'd been with for
several months – a record for Arnie. It looked like she
was in for the long haul. Everyone seemed happy and
content. There was something really right about the
whole scene.

At seven we said goodbye to the family and went
back to my place. Paul stayed for the first time, because
he would be going away until New Year's Eve. This new
sense of closeness made me happy. We took a stroll
along Coogee Beach before sundown and bumped into
Peta with her new man Michael, a colleague from the
department. (She was big on the saying 'Don't dip your
pen in the office ink,' but it didn't seem to apply in this
case.) We walked together for a while and it was really
nice, like a double date. Surely I wasn't becoming one
of those sad 'I'm no-one without my bloke attached to
me' kind of girls?

Paul and I had an early night, and the sex was even
better than the day before. I was almost glad he was
going away for a week – I was already exhausted.

***

I woke late, around ten. It'd been a long, busy night.
Paul had left already, but not before going out and
buying the paper and some pastries for me. I declared
him a saint as I bit into a buttery croissant. A short note
from him wished me a happy Boxing Day and said he'd
call later. He hadn't wanted to wake me.

I spent the next four days at the sales and just
hanging out at the beach, realising how much I really
loved being around Paul. I missed his company – he
was so easy to talk to and fuss over. I counted the days
down until he'd be back, and started planning January,
as we would both be on holidays.

I hadn't asked Paul to Bianca's wedding yet, but as
luck would have it, Liza had met a bloke too, some
guy named Luke she'd pub-pashed at the Palace on
Christmas Eve. As she was taking him, we agreed that I
should ask Paul as soon as he got back to Sydney – but
I couldn't wait that long, so I called him.

'Would you like to come to my friend Bianca's
wedding on January twenty-third?' I wanted to be
organised, and to organise him if need be.

'Of course, princess, I'd love to. Just tell me where I
have to be and when and I'll be there. Is it formal? I've
got a tux.' He sounded as excited as the bride. Of course
he'd have a tux – Mr Perfect would.

'I can't wait to see you, Paul.'

'Me too, princess, I'll see you tomorrow at yours,
okay? Say four o'clock?'

I smiled as I put the receiver down and started to
plan what I'd wear on the New Year's Eve Spectacular
harbour cruise we'd be attending. The invite read
'Dress to the 9s,' so I thought long, black, backless,
with a shawl. Paul hadn't seen that outfit and would
love it. I didn't think I should have my knees showing,
just in case.

***

At four sharp the buzzer went and I wondered for an
instant if I should be offering Paul a key. Perhaps it was
too early for that. I'd forgotten about it by the time I'd
opened the door. He thrust a bunch of multi-coloured
gerberas in my face.

'For you, my princess.' He smiled his Colgate smile
and I went weak at the knees. The door had barely shut
when we were on the floor making up for lost time.

***

We made our way to the dock at Rose Bay to meet Peta,
Liza and Dannie, along with hundreds of other partygoers.
There was a real New Year's buzz in the air, even
if we were a little late starting the celebrations.

'Where the hell have you been, Missy? We were
buzzing for twenty minutes.' Peta was a little miff ed.

'Left without us, did you?' Liza asked. She wouldn't
have believed that Paul had left me handcuff ed to
the bed while he went and showered, so I didn't even
begin to tell her. I was just grateful that I hadn't peed
myself with laughter while I waited for him to uncuff
me. He'd threatened to shave me as well, while I lay
there exposed, but I gave him a mouthful about itchy
regrowth and told him I'd put him on rations if he came
anywhere near me with a blade.

Within half an hour we were among a large flotilla of
craft on the harbour, all seeking the ultimate position for
the midnight fireworks. Both Paul and I had that postcoital
glow. So did Dannie and George, I suspected, as
the kids were with his parents for three days. We all
settled ourselves in some chairs on the upper deck and
sat on a couple of bottles of champagne as the harbour
lights just passed us by. At that very moment I could've
died an extremely happy women.