Men of Australia, I love you. Over the last 15 years, I have come across many fine specimens of the great Aussie bloke with whom I have had the pleasure of sharing many an adventure with. But, boys, having now been in Europe for 2 weeks, there is a thing or 2 you could learn from your brothers across the globe.
1. Subtlety – last week I was in a hotel lobby, and felt my suitcase vibrating. Bzzzzz. Given my vocation, you probably won’t believe me when I tell you it was my toothbrush. Anyway, when the hotel worker put out his hand to take my case to the room, I (mortifyingly) handed it over. I registered a quick look of surprise from old Georgy boy, and then, nothing. He carried on like a vibrating suitcase was the most normal thing in the world. I can only imagine the ‘what have you got in here love?’ style questions such an item would have been met with by an Aussie in the same situation.
2. Expression of emotion – having gotten over the ‘toothbrush’ incident, I have gone on to have many an enjoyable discussion with the local gentlemen. The one huge difference I’ve noticed is their willingness to convey emotion, to talk candidly about what they want out of life, their loves and their fears. It’s really bloody refreshing.
3. Sincerity (or really good acting) in the use of pick up lines – I think our Government must have secretly passed a law that reads ‘men of Australia are required to ogle at even moderately exposed breasts and, in the presence of same after the consumption of alcohol, to inform (verbally or by implication) to the owner of said breasts their approval of same’. In Europe, it’s hot and, naturally, I have spent a lot of time in bikinis and low cut summer dresses, often in circumstances where vast quantities of alcohol have been consumed. And while the Aussies around have certainly ogled (the law is transnational in its application to Aussie citizens, apparently), not one European man has acted in this manner. Instead, the approaches I have received have been based more on my ‘eyes, blue like the ocean’ and my ‘happy, happy, smile’. Much more likely to yield results, I reckon.
4. Style – these European boys now how to dress. Collared shirts to dinner. Styled hair. Shoes that, wait for it, aren’t thongs. There is absolutely nothing wrong with putting in a little effort (even if the result is you can’t quite be certain of the lad in questions sexual orientation, particularly when you take into account the whole ‘no ogling at boobs’ thing).
5. Chivalry – over the past couple of weeks, I have had more doors opened for me and ‘please, you order first’s than ever before. It may be because a lot of the men in question are employed to do so, but either way it feels lovely to be reminded chivalry is not dead. Last week, I drove my dune buggy down a road apparently only meant for donkeys (could happen to anyone), and at least half the male population on the little town I was in came out to help the Aussie damsel in distress, and pushed the buggy back to safety. Thanks boys. Most Aussie boys I know would probably have been too busy watching the cricket.
So there we have it, a couple of quick tips to the men of Australia based on my own observations and experiences. But fear not, boys of oz, there are certainly some lessons you could teach this side of the globe. Like self grooming. Styled hair and crisp white shirts ain’t so hot when it’s accompanied by a mighty big mono-brow. Also, I don’t know too many Aussie blokes who would claim they want to watch me pee, as I was told by a certain Norwegian Casanova last night.
I look forward to sharing many adventures with you all when back on home soil next week.
Naughty Miss Jones xx