events devoid of any real connections with other human beings. Depressed and worn down further by deprecating self-assessment, Kylie finally convinced herself that she was destined for bachelorhood. Her little flat was hot and still with not a breath of sea breeze to relieve the heat and humidity. Front and centre at her own pity party, she was keeping close company with her one and only guest, Mr Jim Beam.
She sat at her dining room table, with a pen in one hand, a Jim Beam and coke in the other. Sketching a rough family tree on the scribble pad in front of her, she realised there were many unmarried, unattached individuals who were clearly unmotivated to be anything but ‘singular sods’ in her extended family. Kylie had always thought that one day she would make someone very happy. But after three months living alone, without any social interaction with anyone from the opposite sex who was single and no one to talk to in person at all after she finished work, it was now clear to her amidst the boozy haze that this dream had come to the end of the road.
Kylie’s main reason for leaving Mount Isa had been to find a husband. Her years of searching the arid man-scape of North West Queensland had yielded nothing but disappointment and an unfurnished ring finger. Since arriving in Townsville, Kylie had kept her eyeballs peeled for possible suitors. Yet all she had seen so far were men holding hands with men on shopping night, married men at work and eighteen-year-old pimply teenage attendants in the takeaway and bottle shops she now heavily frequented.
The trigger for this wallow into self-doom was an email she had received earlier that day from a girlfriend back home. Kylie had learnt that her ex-boyfriend, who she referred to as “Don’t”, had found another girlfriend as soon as she had left town. Despite the fact that Kylie and Don’t were very much split up and she definitely didn’t want him back, the knowledge that she had no one and he had someone made her wonder how fair life really was? She had broken it off with him so that a forever someone could come her way but no one had. Now Don’t was no longer spending nights alone in Single Land, and more than likely being the same prick as he ever was to the new bird, yet Kylie seemed destined to be living in Alone Town forever, population one.
Kylie had driven home from work, parked her car on the street outside her apartment, walked across the road to the bottle shop and bought two bottles of 750 ml Jim Beam and ten litres of coke. This was in addition to the box of thirty coke cans she already had in her refrigerator. She also bought a bag of ice and had slowly lugged the entire shopping spree back to her house and up her twenty-two stairs. After emptying the bag of ice into her kitchen sink, she made the first of many, many, many icy cold drinks to mend her sad and broken heart.
From 5.30 pm that Friday afternoon she drank steadily. She had changed into her comfortable summer pyjama set and put a pair of socks on to keep her feet warm and this is how she stayed until she spilt her drink on herself hours later and needed a change of clothes. She drank and drank and drank and drank. Occasionally she dozed off but continued her binge as soon as she woke again. No teeth brushing, no hair combing, one very long shower but very little food and the only other regular hygiene habit she adhered to during her lost weekend was to wash her hands after many a required toilet break in between topping up her very frequent empty cup.
After seven hours of drinking, more than a few tears and the playing of many a sad country music song, Kylie remembered her Wish Lischt. The Wish Lischt was a list of hand written qualities that she had penned and kept in the back of her diary as a reminder to herself not to sway from what she had always wanted in a man, no matter how old, crusty or desperate she became. Kylie was determined not to settle for anything less than 90% of what she originally specified in her Wish Lischt. The irony of the current situation was that no-one at all was determined to settle down with her, so her qualities were apparently low on the sort after lists of Townsville men.
Kylie went to her bedroom, picked up her diary and tore the Lischt from the back page. Glancing at the paper in her hand, she noticed that on each corner of the page was a smiley face. Smileys were her signatory doodle – something she had forgotten for the last few miserable weeks. In between the smiley faces, there were also doodles of diamond rings. With tears threatening to fall again, she walked back to the kitchen to refill her drink to salute her lischt one last time. It appeared that her wish lischt was nothing more than a modern day fairy tale that would never be realised and she would be a spinster for the term of her natural life.
She sat on the lounge room floor, in between the two couches and took a lazy uncoordinated swig of her drink, letting the excess bourbon dribble down her chin and onto her pyjama’s. Holding up the list she read each item out loud as if addressing an invisible crowd. Along with each quality, she also read out the explanation written underneath it as to why she put it on the list in the first place.
Thou must be a great communicator
If you are unable to discuss everything, how can you expect to solve anything? Looks fade but the ability to communicate openly between your partner and yourself will assist in your relationship overcoming the highest of hurdles. Plus I never shut up, so either he’s up for a chat or I’m out of the race, before it even starts.
Thou Must have a Sense of Humour
Humour is my way of dealing with situations. Good or bad, unfortunate or ironic, if you can see the funny side of almost anything, you are on the right path to living stress free. I believe Humour and Optimism go hand in hand. For example: Live it, see what happens, and if it goes to shit, take and learn something positive out of it so hopefully it won’t happen again.
Thou Must have a Kind and Loving Heart
This is not a big ask and I’m willing to give mine in return so fair’s fair.
Thou Must Not Be the Owner of Pasty Hands
The expression “Holy Cold Fish Hands Batman” shall never be uttered by mine self or anyone shaking the palm of my husband to be. Hands should be warm and strong and feel like home. There should be some kind of magnetism betwixt the offerer and the receiver of the hand holding gesture.
Thou Must Live within 5 kms of Me
I am not fussed on commuting back and forth from a man’s place who lives outside my 5 km exclusion zone, it would mean I would have to be more organised and that would require more self-discipline.
Thou Must Know How to Fix Shit
From many dinners out I have found myself dealing with pasty handed men who could barely take the cork out of my wine bottle let alone fix a blocked drain or a blocked dunny. Dunnys are and always will be blocking at my house. A keen vegetarian and lover of all things fibrous, lentil, curried or Mexican based, I proclaim mine self a “Mad Shitter” for whom only the toughest of toilets could take the brunt of my bi-weekly visits. And I re-iterate that I proclaim to be a “Mad Shitter” not a frequent one.
Thou Must Have a Trade
Perhaps in line with the ability to know how to fix shit, there would be nothing worse than being with a ‘man’ who was weaker than myself and borrowed my pink tool set to put a D.I.Y. item together. And more importantly, I have always admired people who could stick at something for four years to be eternally qualified, it was something out of my reach and vocational desire. Of course you could be a trade qualified chef and I still wouldn’t be happy, chefs are never home and do they really want to come home and cook me a lovely dinner after being at work all day cooking up a storm? So, not all Tradie’s are eligible.
Thou Must Be Able to Take Care of Themself – i.e. Cook, Clean, Iron, Wash Clothes and Pick Up After Thy Self
I
