Friday, February 20, 2009 at 2:52am

“Hi there, it’s Cynthia calling from blah blah blah on behalf of blah blah blah. When we were upgrading the local telephone exchange in Epping, we noticed you’re no longer with us? Well, we want you back and we want to reward you for coming back! How much are you currently spending on your phone bill?”

“I don’t know.”

“No? Is there anyone there who can speak about the home phone account?”

“No. I want you to say something dirty.”

“What’s that? You want me to tell you about our internet deals?”

“No, I want you say something dirty to me…”

“Oh you mean about the washing? The laundry?”

“No, say something sexy.”

“Sorry son, I’m afraid they just don’t pay me enough for that.”

“I’m wanking it right now.”

“Reallllly? Well happy days then. You just go about your business and have yourself a good day.”

“What’s your tit size?”

My tit size, eh? Fortunately I had the good sense to hang the hell up before engaging any further. “Oh you know, I used be an A cup, but you know, I have put on a few pounds recently, jeez, I don’t know, I’m guessing I *might* have jumped to a B?? Maybe??” I should’ve just gone along with his perverted teenage fantasy being as non-sexy as possible and see if it foiled his precious wanking plans and exposed his ludacrous behaviour. Wouldn’t of made a lick of difference. I reckon you’ve either got the pervert gene or you don’t. No grey areas, no two ways about it, and my level of sexy-ness contributes very little to the situation. How does a phone call from a telemarketer re your internet motivate you to masturbate? Seriously. You’ve got to just be the kind of person who is primed and ready to pounce on any kind of prey when it comes to that. 

I had to laugh when I hung up the phone, but upon reflection, it’s absolutely no laughing matter.Yeah, he’s some ‘harmless’ pre-pubescent dork who’s sitting at home using up all his monthly download allowance on, but the sad part of that scene is he’ll grow up into that kind of man who ends up being my boss at work, rubbing my shoulders as he passes by, and commenting on my ass as I bend over my desk (and that’s a whole other story.).

So there I am, standing at the tram stop last night patiently waiting for a tram. “P*SSY!” some d*ckhead yelled as he drove by. Awesome. Thanks. “Hey there sexy!” screamed the waste of space in the very next car. Jeans and a sweatshirt folks. Not as if I looked like I was meant to be ‘working’ on that street.

“Holy f*cking god!!!!” I shouted. The innocent bloke calmly carrying his innocent beers down the road past me, whipped his head around and probably assumed I was some impatient twit frustrated by a way-layed tram. “Am I wearing a sign on my head that says ‘Disrespect me!’???” I felt like asking. Really, I’m beginning to think I’m giving off some kind of vibe, pheromone perhaps, that’s calling all perverts from out of the woodwork to feel they’ve got permission to have a go at me.

I was introduced to a gentleman, wait, scratch that – a male, recently by two separate friends from opposite ends of the earth. A friend from Canada, and a friend from Byron Bay both said to me “Hey, when you get to Melbourne, you should hook up with my friend ‘So and so'”. Two totally unrelated people both pointed me in the direction of the same dude. Coincidence? Maybe. Probably not. Anyhow. We meet up. Not surprisingly we get on like a house on fire. Lovely. So I agree to meet him a couple of times, because hey why not? I’m swinging single and wouldn’t mind someone treating me like a lady for the first time in a lonnnng time, and with two solid references, he must be a decent fella, right? Wrong. On the third day of ‘hanging out’ after an afternoon ‘together’ we’re sitting at the pub with him and his mates. We’re not there 10 minutes before he’s left me at the table with a crew I don’t know from a hole in the wall while he’s off getting some chicks number, brushing her hair out of her face, and just generally making me want to barf. This is the third time in my life when my significant or not so significant other has completely and utterly disrespected me right to my face. Footsies with my best friend, or feeling up their ex, time and time again, the men I choose to share my time with, choose to show me just how much they care by waving around their wandering eyes. 

I made a visit to the chiropractor this week. She made some readjustments to my spine. All kinds of ancient history and emotion can get locked up in your body, especially in those tricky old vertabrae, you know, the part that holds you upright, keeps you moving…A slight shift in my shoulders has equalled a major shift in my awareness. Old patterns and familiar situations are presenting themselves left and right. Break the cycle, open your eyes and learn the lesson lest you be burdened with this forevermore.

My goal for the next phase is figuring out how to rewire this flashing neon sign above my head from reading “I’m your next victim” to “I’m goddamn worth it.”