Have one of my many brilliant ideas. Go online and search for dating websites. Every second man on these things claims to enjoy ‘outdoor activities’. Do a quick search using my preferred age group (young and dumb please), suburb (any but mine), and build (lumberjack please). This brings up one match, ‘Pumped69’, and he’s online now! Send him my most provocative and touched up photo and ask him if he likes beer, horror movies and sports as much as I do. He replies immediately in the affirmative. Ten minutes later and we are fixed on a wilderness experience date this weekend. It is truly that easy dear reader.
Saturday afternoon my three suitcases are packed full, and I’m only running five hours late. ‘Pumped69’ is meeting me at the Dungaree train station. Apparently, Dungaree is the newest up and coming country town, brimming with cafes and a hundred and one identical knick knack stores and antique shops. To really give it the stamp of approval, it is frequented by the gay community. Couples meander the pretty streets hand in hand, paying exorbitant prices for old biscuit tins. With five pubs and no competition for my newest beau’s attentions, Dungaree will be the perfect place for my romantic tree change getaway.
I make it to the train station before dark, expecting a bustling little railway scene. Unfortunately, there is no one in sight. Not a young, pumped lumberjack-type lingering on the platform to whisk me away. Not a middle aged man carrying a potted plant. Not even a frail elderly gent with a toothpick. This is not a good sign. Could he not wait a few hours for me? Although I guess I should be a little lenient. I’ve had marriages that have lasted less than five hours.
With hurt feelings, I saunter over to the Station Master’s window and bash at the little bell for immediate assistance. Thinking all Station Masters look like the wizard Dumbledore, am pleasantly surprised when I am served a complete dish! My newest friend is a gorgeous male specimen with blonde hair that falls teasingly into his green eyes, skin screaming out to have honey licked from it and a grin that could melt a gentler soul’s heart than mine. Luckily I have petulance in abundance and am not moved by his obvious charm.
I explain the ridiculous situation I have been left in and demand a lift to my pre-booked love nest. He obliges as expected and I am promptly delivered to a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. He explains that the main town is approximately twenty kilometres down the highway in the opposite direction. My anger knows no bounds but I am too tired to scream banshee style as would be my usual custom. He shows me to my door and when I find it is unlocked, I motion for him to enter in before me. Mostly so I can ensure there are no bogeymen inside waiting to suck the blood of an angel (me, of course!). Also so that I may repay him in the best way I know how.Ensure we are alone and ‘Pumped69’ is not at home. Excellent. Before blondie knows what’s hit him, I use a Thai trick I learnt in Bangkok called the ‘ol Gung–Ho’, and whip down his pants with nothing but my teeth. Caught unawares, he stumbles back and into a position I like to call ‘Cat and Mouse’. Now he is caught under the spell of my world-renowned beauty. Either that or he has hit his head on the floor. Oh well, he doesn’t have to be awake for what I have planned for him…
To be continued…. 
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