Hi, nice to meet you. Haven’t I heard that one too many times? Surely, I can do better than that.
Hi, thank you for dropping by The Dating Journal. I’m Simone. I’m 30. I’m not married. I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone in particular, exclusively, for quite a long time. A. Very. Long. Time. Hi, I’m Simone and I am as single as single gets. That’s definitely not better.
I’m not going to beat around the bush here. You are about to read my dating journal after all. The good, the bad, and the downright hilarious recounts of my dating life. So, let’s start by me being blatantly honest: I have been actively dating for five years. I’ve tried everything – swiping right, blind dates, friends of friends, industry colleagues, A-grade football players, A-grade cricket players, Italians, Englishmen, men with kids, travelers, smokers, musicians, boys seven years younger, men seven years older, friends of housemates, night-out randoms, and who can forget the dabbling in reality TV.
Over the past five years, I have easily convinced myself to smile and say, “Hi, nice to meet you”, to at least thirty, perhaps forty, maybe even fifty, Tinderfellas. Who knows, I’ve lost count. Whatever the number, it does sound somewhat disheartening when you put it on paper, doesn’t it? If I break it down, that’s around ten online dates a year… Actually, let’s just skip the math, shall we?
Being single, and constantly dating, isn’t easy to say the least. Do you agree? High hopes… Plenty of disappointments. Low expectations… Surprisingly good dates. It’s an emotional rollercoaster. And working in two female-dominated industries, obviously, doesn’t help the situation.
I’m a Bridal Makeup Artist. An Early Childhood Teacher. A full-time *ahem* mature-aged Uni student. An avid writer. An old-school romantic. A tea addict. A red wine lover. An early bird riser. A constant busy bee. A wishful traveler. A hopeful single lady in the city of Sydney about to embark on a sea change to Melbourne.
My chosen careers, surrounded by women and babies, obviously doesn’t help my single-status, I know. So, like many other single women, I (almost completely) rely on unreliable apps like Tinder to provide me with some kind of hope that my Mister Right is out there. Come on, Tinder! You can do it!
Let me enlighten you. I’ve got some good stories. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Here it is. I am going to share with you why I am single at thirty. Grab yourself a glass of wine and come follow by journey as I go from single to… head over heels, madly in love (we can only hope!)
Where do I even begin? Let’s flashback to Winter of 2015. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Electrician. Let’s start with… RHYS. Get comfy, enjoy the read and welcome to: THE DATING JOURNAL.