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Meeting your future friend

  • 22 January 2020
When we meet someone for the first time, how often does it occur to us that they may become a significant part of our lives? What would change if we approached first meetings this way?
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Hula hoops, goannas and the games we play

  • 14 February 2019
Here's a confession: I can't make eye contact with good-looking strangers. Once we're in a conversation I'm totally fine, but once I've assessed that you're a hottie I will try pretty hard not to look at you at all. Just because you're handsome doesn't mean I want you, okay? Dating and attraction is such a game - and a messy one at that. Valentine's Day and what you do or don't do is just an annual component of this game.
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Love and ashes

  • 14 February 2018
Happy Valentine’s Day! Happy Ash Wednesday! Not since 1945 have both occasions fallen on the same day. And…
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My love-hate relationship with reality TV and the concept of marriage

  • 15 February 2017
Commercial TV is an evil genius. I don’t watch much of it these days, but somehow I got suckered into Married At First Sight. It’s just, y’know, I’m making dinner and my housemate likes to unwind in front of the box. So there I am, innocently frying my fish when she begins hooting with laughter. So I get drawn away from the stove (I am a walking fire hazard) and find it’s that show the boys were talking about the other day. The one I made fun of them about. When they refer to the battle for the watercooler, this is exactly what they’re on about. Commercial TV has perfected the art of balancing the ridiculous and the relatable, the beautiful and the ugly, attraction and revulsion, to create programs like this. Shows you love to hate on and hate yourself for loving. Shows you can’t help but talk about. Like I’m doing right now, on the night of Valentine’s Day, incidentally.
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Candlelit dinner
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First date poetry and other awkwardness

  • 9 August 2016
I once went on a date where I was asked to read some poetry aloud. It was one of the most awkward things I've ever had to do. Reading out somebody else's poetry was intimate in all the wrong ways.