Photo: I came across this sculpture of two lovers, at Darling Harbour in Sydney. In a previous post I asked, how do I strike up a conversation with a female cyclist passing in the opposite direction? Afterwards I realised there is no point in me doing so, because love can never be for me.
You see - I am Australian.
I know all about love from movies and TV shows. From what I can gather, only Americans fall in love - even then it's only Americans who either hold senior managerial positions, or are in the entertainment or media industries, that get to feel the prick of Cupid's arrow.
Also from what I have seen, it is much easier to romance a lady in America because when you take her out to dinner, you get served straight away by a smiling waiter or waitress. Heck, half the time they even know your name. Here they don't even notice you sitting at the table - until they tell you they are just about to close.
I've also noticed it's compulsory for one of the participants to have at least one kid, who is minus a mom or dad due to terminal illness or car accident (which of course was another person's fault).
If it's a boy, he must have long hair - a sort of pint-size Monkee. Usually he spends most of his time sulking or flopping onto sofas in pre-teenage angst. The only thing he gets on with is his large, shaggy dog. It makes you want to wrap his school lunch in a one way air ticket.
If it's a girl, she can ether be sulky or incredibly cute - usually with a missing front tooth. She definitely will not like mom or dad's new intended partner - at least not until a crisis throws them all together. Then with lots of tears, laughter and Saks of Fifth Avenue shopping bags, they end up hugging each other in Times Square on a snowy Christmas Eve, while Santa Claus (who we all know is American) Ho, Ho, Hos in the background.
Another thing I know about love in America. Americans who fall in love and get married all live in huge houses. The sort of house that makes the average English Manor, look like a housing commission flat. They all have cleaners too! I know, I've seen it on the telly.
American love birds are also remarkably patient and easy going. They have to be, because every time they sit down or prepare a meal, they are faced with a constant stream of visitors. Some knock, some ring the doorbell while others just walk straight into the living room with large toothy smiles on their faces.
The last visitors I had were two Jehovah's Witnesses, and a nice little man who told me he was turning the water off to repair next door's toilet.
Another reason I can't fall in love is the fact I only have one suit. American men have a suit for the morning, change it in the afternoon, then wear an even smarter one in the evening. I don't have any $500 multi-collared sweaters either, so that's another thing that rules out any chance of my heart strings going ping.
I must go to America if I want to fall in love.
And if I could have gone - I wouldn't be sitting here writing this feeble attempt at pretending to be happy and "cool" about things.
