Now before all you gals start packin' your bags and heading out on the Great Western Man Hunt, here are a few tips.
First, you may need to drop your standards somewhat. In fact, I would recommend not bringing any standards with you at all. You'll need to assess your priorities, or as Dr. Phil likes to call them, "deal breakers". Are teeth important to you? What about underwear? Outback men don't have underwear, and yours will only suffer the indignities attendant on the startling courtship rituals of the outback. A few pairs of comfy cottontails would be fine as long as you don't mind rescuing them from the diesel rag bin from time to time (behind the genny shed, next to the spare fuel lines).
Don't offer sunblock to a bloke; this will only cause a sudden tense silence among any men in the vicinity, followed by a derisive snort of amusement, a terse shake of the head, and, some years later, irreparable skin cancer. Water is considered "gay". Do some muscle building exercises before you venture into the outback as you will need strong arms for carrying the minimum requirement of 3 cases of beer per man/hour - and none of that fancy "gay" beer either, it needs to be a good solid fightin' beer such as Four-X or Emu Bitter. If he's "on the piss" with his "mates", you may want to consider a separate sleeping arrangement for the night, such as Perth.
Any supplies you've brought will be immediately ransacked, but generally outback guys are gentlemen and once they've used your Gillete Lady razors to shave off the feral pig carcass they will return it promptly to your bathroom kit.
So, how do you go about meeting an outback bloke? Unlike the subtle confusions of city romance, here all you need to do is stand still for a minute or two (carry a stick). If you are a blonde Danish backpacker, run for your life. Here are some typical opening lines that should help you know when a bloke is indicating a romantic interest:
"After I shag yer, can me mate have one too?"
"There's room in the dog box if you don't mind it standing up"
"I'm hammered but I reckon youse could still hang a wet towel on it love"
Other opening gambits can include social invitations such as "Youse wanna come to me room? Oi've got beer" (spoken from the doorway of said room at 10 am, by man scratching at the crutch of yesterday's work shorts which he has clearly been sleeping in). You'll know things are getting serious if he tenderly asks you to come roo shootin' with him on Friday night. A truly lovesick man will suffer the derisive hooting noises of his mates in all directions for forty kilometres in order to put on a clean shirt from the bottom of the laundry pile before taking you to the roadhouse for "some fuckin grouse fried chicken mate".
Remember that the poor fellow hasn't seen a non-angry woman for approximately six months, so a couple of hours of whingeing is a crucial part of outback preliminaries, as is the consumption of astonishing amounts of beer. An outback bloke's internal organs have pretty much shut down from alcohol abuse by age 23, so there's no need to worry that two cases of Emu Bitter will affect his physical capacity to lunge at you suddenly with diesel-soiled hands. They're used to hard yakka and working until they "bust a gut"; if you feel the need for lingering moments of tender, wordless companionship, a sharp blow to the back of his head with one of the spanners lying around in his swag should do the trick. During the day, if you need to get his attention, patient work with a long range sight and a tranquilliser gun is usually the only effective option, but do remember to wait until he's fixed the generator for the shower block pump first.
Contrary to what one would expect, jealousy is rarely an issue. If he was to spot you in the grubby embrace of one of his mates outside the row of roadhouse dogboxes, he would most likely stride on past with a quick "Gidday Baz mate ow yer goin orright". His mate would reply "Yer no worries mate didja get that diesel outa the ute orright mate?", by which time he would probably have finished and you can happily continue on your way to the shower block (carry a sharp tyre iron).
Duncan has just wandered past & read this & said "The sad thing is that it's all true!". I am reminded daily how fortunate I am to have come across what may possibly be the only man in Western Australia who has all his teeth, no tattoos, is able to talk in full sentences (especially when eating) and observes the finer points of social etiquette on dates (remembering my name).
All of them seem to be eternally hungry and will eat anything that's not nailed down; never leave your dinner unattended. If you're in that deranged endorphin state where you think that cooking hot meals for your man three times a day is your dream, measure your quantities in "whole animal".
If you feel like complaining at the filthy diesel paw marks on your favorite fancy bra (what were you thinking?), just remember that those same paws have been busy getting the hot shower pump going, gutting the roo you had for dinner last night, repairing the septic system and manhandling you in that rib-squashing macho embrace you read about in your Mills & Boon (hopefully not in that order). Of course your frillies will never be the same and that morning-after roo & beer breath could knock down a horse, but would you rather listen to Mr. Mocha Latte waffle on about how he's not ready for a relationship as he busily texts his internet dates about "catching up for a drink sometime LOL"?
But remember that despite all this, there are some downsides. You don't want to be having second thoughts when it's fifty five degrees and you are trapped in a six by ten dogbox watching Shark Safari III for the three thousandth time while making ammo casings next to someone whose toiletry kit consists of an old fish knife and a bar of soap that looks suspiciously like an old urinal cube.
See you at the airport!
No comments:
Post a Comment