Warning!! Cheater exposed!

not-my-problem

“It’s sweet you took your wedding ring off for me!”

These words came out my mouth as I examined his hand trying to be quirky and humorous on a date. I’ve never made that joke before so why did I now? Did I have a sixth sense, was I extremely intuitive or perhaps a little psychic? For now, let’s just call it a woman’s intuition which I might add is a powerful force we should embrace more often.

Studies find that women are more intuitive than men because they have more empathy and are better at expressing their emotions facially, by tone and body. Men are better at controlling felt and hidden emotions which as women, we unconsciously and involuntarily process and gain the capacity to discern the true nature of a situation.

For the past two nights, my already busy time I use working for a magazine and writing my blog, was spent on the phone, talking to someone I’d never met but felt I’d known for ages. The first night for 2 hours and the next for 3 hours, he made me laugh every second we spoke. The conversation flowed and I wondered how someone could be so witty, (more than myself) fun and available. I knew it was very unrealistic but alas, this guy sounded awesome and stopped me thinking about “is the truth more or less than the lie” guy, yes, that guy…again and still! In a way their personalities were similar, both as witty and smart as each other. I  wondered whether this was a sign that he would also be capable of such deceitfulness too but unfortunately, the backstreet Psychology I practised wasn’t reliable enough to conclude, so I’ll stick to the Maths equation.

During our phone calls, we came to the subject of films when I asked if he’d seen Murial’s Wedding. Murial’s Wedding was my all time favourite film, an Australian classic I quote with friends and continue to quote today. To my amazement, he told me his Auntie was in the film, my ovaries have never grabbed onto a piece of information so tightly!! Murial even came to his 9th birthday party! Was I thrown off track by this possible tactic when in reality he would actually tarnish her wedding with the inevitable ugly rearing head of his.

So, a few days into talking, he came to my house for a one hour date before he flew back to Sydney (possible lie). An hour is the perfect amount of time for a first date, it’s short enough to not run out of conversations but enough time to determine whether you want to see them again. Another positive factor is that you will use the time more wisely asking strategic questions and being more aware of what you want in someone.

When he arrived, I immediately felt his energy was off and subconsciously I must have been reading his vibes and body language. He wasn’t as handsome as I anticipated, not that it’s a major issue, I prefer personality anyway so I was sure his charm would exceed.

We sat on the balcony and the conversation was just fine, not like the phone calls, he didn’t seem exciting. I would say we spoke but lets be honest, he lied to my face about his situation, his past relationships and who knows what else. I started to feel something was wrong, he was saying sweet things but lacked any emotion and I was unconvinced about things he told me about his lifestyle. I continued being my bubbly laughing self pretending I hadn’t noticed his shadiness.

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I was glad he was only here on my balcony for an hour and if i’m honest, after around 20 minutes, my mind drifted as did his. I started thinking about “that guy” again and my intuition tells me he had wifey running through his. I guess that was one thing we had in common, the thing that brought us together whilst pushing us apart again, a condition I like to call, “Displaced Company Syndrome”. Have you ever been blown out by a guy or missed someone so in attempt to feel better, you replace their company with someone else’s but the level of company satisfaction is distinctively lower? Well people, this is DCS and it never works!!

He left in a hurry, a very sharp exit I might add but fortunately for me, I didn’t know him well enough to confidently classify this as suspicious behaviour but evidently, it did leave me feeling suspicious! I sensed his overwhelming guilt had started implode over his whole existence. As he left he told me to keep my blog up which I found really odd as he hadn’t mentioned it before.  He had been snooping on me and when I asked why, he said he wanted to see who I was. A guilty dog barks first. He was hiding something and I got the feeling he didn’t want me to know who he was. Earlier that day my profile was viewed by someone called “John” and I had just realised it was him. This arrogant smart-arse cheat had stupidly left a cyber trail, how amateur of him!

I face-booked his whole name with his job title found on Linkedin and the results were as expected. Right there in my face, so far in my face it came back out again, Dear John was indeed married with a new born child! I was right when I implied he took his wedding ring off and  I felt pretty satisfied my subconscious mind have thrown a few on-the-mark comments that got his heart racing resulting in his speedy exit.

IMG_3997In conclusion, I commend myself for being efficient in finding out the truth before I got sucked in any further and before he got too far deep into this particular affair. He called me after I accused him and I allowed him to explain.  I don’t know what the sisterhood in this kind of situation is but i won’t be ruining his life by exposing him, he’ll probably do that all by himself.

Our Super Power, a Women’s Intuition. 

Is the Lie Less or Greater than the Truth?

Dating 101.

I have recently met a guy, the rare kind that will make your heart skip a beat whilst you dance to the rhythm of his. Instead of seeing love hearts, I was seeing fractions, percentages and a hell of a lot of question marks. I had to decide whether or not to believe his word and having just met him, I failed to reach a conclusion without reasonable doubt. With the current data I hold, whilst also including my own dating history, proved insufficient to confidently believe what he was telling me, excuse this, excuse that.

Would it be easier if we just resorted to statistics and the probability formula to determine how truthful someone is being? Is it more logical to calculate whether the truth is more probable that the lie opposed to basing our decision solely on the delivery or circumstance? I can’t help but think the people who lie about their feelings just ruin it for all the honest people out there making it necessary to resort to mathematics.

“Do you trust me?”
“Let me just check my book of statistics and come back to you?”

 

After a great first date, follow-up texts and confirmation there would be a second, why was it taking so long for him to put a date on our next meeting? Was I the back-up plan he was stringing along whilst he checked to see if he could do better? The ego boost, the cheerleader in his “man’s world”?

With that in mind, I felt the only method in moving the situation forward was to work out how likely it was that his excuse was the truth compared to the alternative of him being a pathological liar?

The Math (I will simplify, don’t lose interest!)

Probability formula is the ratio of the number of possible outcome measures in the following way.

P(lie) = P(truth) which means both outcomes are equally likely to occur but I needed to find out if the lie was more or less favourable than the truth.


The lie:

  1. 5 % of people are capable of being a pathological liar so if we say the ratio of men to woman in Australia is 4/5, we know that 2 % of males are capable.
  2. 33 % of men lie to woman after the first date for their own personal gain, for example, an ego boost by stringing them along.

2 + 33 = 35 / 200 (as there are two percentages) = 0.175 x 100 (to make it into a percentage) = 17.5 %

P(lie)= A+B = 17.5 %

The total of the probability of the lie: 17.5 %


The Truth:

  1. 16 % of males ***
  2. 15 % of males ***

Unfortunately for you, in this moment in time, I still have a glimmer of respect left so I won’t disclose the personal excuses he used, lets just say there are two and the chances of them being real are:

16 + 15 = 31/ 200 x 100 = 15.5 %

P(truth)= A+B = 15.5 %


Now to make these the only two possible outcomes out of 100:

Chances of the lie = 17/32.5 x 100 = 52 %

Chances of the truth = 15.5/32.5 x 100 = 48%


The conclusion, the lie is greater than the truth but it still feels inconclusive!(Or with the facts, am I still in denial!??)

It makes sense that the factors I’m considering into the decision making process produce a seriously close percentage as I was unable to determine what to believe in the first place.

It seems I am no closer to determining what to believe and the fact I am strategically calculating whats more likely to be true, probably suggests that the only crazy one here is me! Are we a product of past relationship errors enabling us to lack trust in men and what they tell us? I probably shouldn’t tar them all with the same brush but it’s impossible to reprogram the brain without hypnotherapy, surely? Or do I have it right, is this the new future of dating?

Maybe you can’t base your decision making on formulas and statistics but more on how much you have to lose or gain from the situation. I have nothing to lose and if I don’t trust his word, I will never find out if this calculation works hence not finishing the experiment.

One month deep and no second meeting, perhaps you don’t have to be a genius to work out the math!

Woman, I hope you can relate! We are the masters of our own destruction! Future Katie says run for the hills, she knows best but it’s a shame I am merely just the present Katie, tripping over hurdles I should jump.

Watch this space for updates!

 

 

 

The Big Trip

Creative writing by Katie Babb

Just before a significant event you’ve been looking forward to for weeks, why do we trip at the last hurdle, why can’t we last those extra hours, just one more night you say to yourself the next day. The overwhelming excitement becomes too much to bare and you proceed to start the fun that little bit earlier (un)aware of the consequences. A festival, a stag do, the night before New Year’s Eve, tell me why can’t we just get an early night before The Big Trip?

 

acidtrip

Walking out of her apartment, she said goodbye to her housemates who seemed to be engrossed in the classic film, The Truman Show, which she suspected they had watched a thousand times before. She looked up and saw the bright lights illuminate the hill she needed to walk up and with each footstep accentuated by the street lights, bubbles began to fizz around her system and I expect cause a chemical reaction. Reconsidering the commitment she’d made hours earlier which would have enabled her to book her trip for the following day, she needed to burst the new emotions as quickly as they emerged as adapting wasn’t easy for her, over thinking was but she had no spare time, her mind was occupied.

Being controlled by a force of “anxiet-venture” which ultimately altered her seamless plan, she turned around and proceeded to head towards a bar she’d frequently occupied – after all, they had wifi there so booking the trip would still happen, she told herself. As she walked in the darkness, a moment was taken to appreciate the moon, it was a half moon but the full moon was still visible backlit in it’s shadow. Overwhelming contentness and appreciation for life rushed around her veins and she was high on love – was this the moment that would contribute to the amendment of her evening?

She felt comfortable whilst walking and selected people in her mind to share the moment with. Even though they weren’t with her and would be none the wiser in theory, she still connected with them in her mind’s eye. She instantly imaged her best friend who she was planning on travelling to see the following day, it had been almost 2 years since she moved to Australia and truth be told, she was an impact on society. She hit her hometown like a meteorite packed with kindness, good nature and a brilliant mind. Everyone loved this girl as she was down to earth and by just being in her presence, you instantly felt as though you were a better person.

“Welcome back, take a seat and I’ll get you a drink” were welcoming words to a stranger in Australia especially as maintaining connections were important to her. Drinking a beer, she logged onto the internet and continued to focus on finding the best bus route. The only bus she found would get her there the following evening, Saturday, coming back the morning after. It was the only bus available so she texted her boss requesting Monday off work – she pulled the birthday card, naturally. A weight was lifted off her shoulders, she’d found the route, assumed she could have Monday off, what could go wrong, the cheque was cashed, she felt awesome.

A miniature poodle began wondering the bar and being a fan of the “homunculied”, her heart was reinforced into helping melt the earlier bubbles that led her there initially.

The owner who greeted her earlier approached and claimed the pooch, the puppy licked his face but denied hers, she longed for the same attention for the dog was beautiful.

His friendly staff started packing away the chairs but she wasn’t ready to go home, she had completed her mission, popped the air inside of her and fallen in love with this miniature poodle. Can I have a lock in she thought?

As anticipated, the owner arranged a lock in and she wasn’t surprised, he seemed up for conversation and a few private drinks but she couldn’t help but wonder, how private he wanted to get. This was a small thought in her mind just like any streetwise girl would ponder with reassuring comfort produced in the fact she knew the bar he managed and also, how could he get away with disposing of her necrophilia-ed corpse when there’s witnesses to vouch her being there?

He suggested they go back to his apartment with the dog and continue to drink. Was he safer because he had a cute dog, was it a decoy for his heinousness’, a manipulation tool? She had seen it all and was certainly not about to be in an unsafe environment.  She had couch surfed in Miami with 3 different people once, all guys, it wasn’t a decision she would take lightly and no matter how naive she seemed to them, she was always one step ahead with her safety and confidence in people perception also anticipating possible judgement errors.  She liked to believe she could read intentions and with this guy, she knew he was capable of trying it on, he wouldn’t persist but he was male, she believed his real thirst was just therapeutic conversations delving into his life, attention, he just wanted a normal girl to talk to and she was wise, she read that and was happy to partake.

He appeared to be the perfect host, he opened up about prior relationship s and she was happy to give an input regarding where he was going wrong. It is always easier to identify someone else’s mistakes opposed to your own.

Time moved way too quickly in a way it was hard to keep track. She tried to go to the toilet but felt it was impossible. He had made every bathroom so clean and tidy that she didn’t feel comfortable, it felt too staged. She had a choice of a few bathrooms and said to him, “come on I need a wee, stop messing around”. Was there an undertone that he thought she thought she was better than him so insisted on making her feel she couldn’t even piss in his presence? What a clever cunt, exactly the bullshit she predicated him pulling.

She wakes up on the sofa alone but instantly felt comfort in seeing the poodle lying close by. Everything was tidy almost like if you’d taken a wrong footstep, picked up something through curiosity, you would be in mousetrap or buckaroo, fucked or chucked.  Like a booby trap, like pushing a domino and watching them all fall strategically, this feeling was strong and she was keen to not activate the trigger. Feeling like every move, every breath mattered, she laughed to herself thinking, you don’t know who you are messing with. She then walked into his bedroom and there he was, the owner, facing the wall with the most relaxing music on. Was he winding her up? She’d fallen asleep and he’d set up booby traps that were probably void but was trying to trip her out implying he had no awareness and was just chilling in bed. After his intentional ignorance to her yelling, she saw a light from his bedside table, it was a phone and a light, he was filming her! Initial thoughts, did he have a YouTube channel created to embarrass and show up girls because they’d done this to him and now was a complete weirdo – did he especially seek out foreigners to send them back home broken?? Stranger things have happened if I’m honest, even if this felt a little bit racist. She yelled, “you’re joking me I’m outta here” thinking there’s no way she’s falling for this, you’ve chosen the wrong girl. When she decided to respect herself and leave, she opened one of the many doors, two infact and through each door led to a perfectly made bed! Immediately self destructing she screams,” you’re a sick pig” but later feeling disappointed in herself knowing she was reacting into the camera’s hands.

He quickly arose from his pit and refusing to let him know he had got to her, she carefully asked for the wifi password and said, “I’ve had a lovely time and want to leave now”. He poured a drink for himself and passed her the wifi code. She got her phone out and looked down to the code and read, “none existence, the amount of time it will take me to get over you”. She replied saying “yep, cute” picked up her belongings and walked out thinking, “I’ve been punked” how could this happen to me?”

She walked down the stairwell knowing the cameras were rolling whilst trying to ignore the water he had filled her shoes with. Her bag was also making a chugging noises, she knew he’d put jugs of dirty water in there but didn’t check, she wanted to rise above it and refuse to give them a reaction.

As she walked into the road, cars speeded pass with their cameras on the roof whilst the messages on the billboards were obviously changed to be aimed at her. I’m not ready to say what these messages said to her but they were truly troublesome and she held back the tears not knowing know why she’d been targeted, she given him a lending ear. Maybe that was a weakness he took advantage of.

She decided to take refuge on a bench and refused to just walk away like an embarrassment when deep down she knew she was an awesome person. She said to herself, they can’t just dispose of me for their humour and decided to sit on a bench to figure out an action plan. She sat in the dark, the flashing signs around her got worse, telling her she was trash and to go back to where she came from. She didn’t know why Australians were being so unkind. It felt like hours past by but still, no one stopped. Cars slowed down but didn’t stop in an attempt to make me feel as though they cared initially but then at the last minute, crushing her hopes and drove off mocking her and completing their part in the prank. She decided to open her bag and get her phones out. the cheap Australian phone still had credit and she also found a bottle of water. She opened the cap and started to throw it all over the bench expressing her frustration, a bit like being in a night terror and making a drastic mental move to be able to wake up. It didn’t work. The cameras were on her and she was still on TV being watched, she felt this couldn’t go on forever and wanted to report this to the police with a lawyer present. She tried to call the police on her phone but then realised she didn’t even know the equilavent to 999. It was frustrating and she began to cry feeling her tears and wiping them off creating puddles on the floor. Daylight slowly came round and she started to realise the harsh reality that she was insane. No one cared, no one was watching, in fact she’d was convinced she was in the middle of a psychotic episode. Did the pressure of her birthday combined with being away from family have a stronger effect on her than she imagined possible. Convinced she was insane, she knew she had to get home and call one of her brothers’. She had opted for the eldest as he would do what’s needed where as the younger one she could talk him out of getting her the help he needed.

Walking in any direction, she contemplated asking a stranger to take her home or to the hospital claiming insanity. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t do it. She walked and walked with absolutely no idea of her surroundings when suddenly she saw a tram line. She knew the tram went near her house, she thought, “am I saved, please say I was saved?”. Reaching daylight now, the sudden pain that she’d miss going to Noosa to see friend tore through her but she knew she’d understand if she was sectioned. Getting off the tram at the scene of the crime, the bar, she took a slightly different route home feeling paranoid and almost got lost once more. Eventually pulling the walk off, she made it home. Her housemate was where she left her, in front of the TV but instead of watching the Truman show, she was watching the news, she rushed to her bedroom conscious of the fact she could have featured in it. Suddenly puzzle pieces started to be put in place, was the housemate a part of her night? “Did she know I was going to get punked and in preparation, let me see her watching the Truman show to push me into that mindset?” Her head was fucked and who could she trust?

She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror and had never seen something so relieving in all her life. There were sourcers, huge black sourcers and by looking into them, she knew everything was intensified, she knew she couldn’t trust them and what they’d told her brain they saw. Relieved in the fact she wasn’t mental but just tripping over a seriously bad trip, she called her friends, who she later suggested should work for the emergency services, and they booked her a taxi to her bus and all was not lost, she made it onto her original trajectory and began the trip she had intended.

 

The Airport: should I miss the boat?

In high spirits having my expectations exceeding on my first day down under, I smiled, packed my bag which somehow was out of control after only two nights and made my way to the airport. As it was a domestic flight coupled with the fact I didn’t want to spend money on airport wastage, I got to the airport an hour before my flight thinking I’d swim through; however, I sank like a dead body.

There was no queue, I strolled right up to the desk, my passport was fine, I was at the right airport on the right flight. As she went to conveyor belt my luggage she says “oh your bag’s are heaps over the allowed limit”. I’m like, I flew here on this airline and they didn’t say anything so I assume my bags were fine. She checked my previous booking and yes, sure enough, I hadn’t been charge or warned. If I’m honest, I wasn’t shocked, I knew my bag was massively over but felt  I could blag it like every other aspect of my life, although the fact she was female, was extra pressure for me.

Not budging, she went to speak to her Manager to tell her my situation about not having my bags stopped previously and about my flight being cancelled causing an inconvenience.

That’s when I saw it, her face, she was a terrible person. Sympathy, empathy, any of the ‘pathy’s she wasn’t. I knew I was in hot water and she certainly wasn’t afraid of leaving me there to stew. The check-in lady made her way back and it was bad news, she had hit me in the face with a wet fish, I had to pay the extra! The Manager had told her this is a different flight, different day so I need to pay. Feeling the extra heat form arriving at the airport so late, I knew I didn’t have a lot of time on my hands now, I had to think quick. She weighed my bag and even my hand luggage fully raping me of any excess and then announced, yeah that’s $240!!! Was she for real!!

HOW-MUCH

I refused to pay and said id look into another flight in an attempt to call their bluff. I had really pushed the boat out up until now in terms on saving my money by not eating out, not getting taxis but this would destroy my efforts, I thought, shall I wave the white flag or go down with my ship?

With 20 minutes left before the sinking sand I stood in would consume me, I went and spoke to the manager myself. I knew this was my last shot and I decided to go for “”Mrs Nice” which was a huge mistake, remember Katie, she has none of the ‘pathy’s! Failing miserably when asking her it’s down to her discretion and hearing her reply, “it is, and I’m saying no”.  I could not believe her, I stared at her and said “wow, really”. I’d got some satisfaction though, when she hit me with that last line she lost eye contact and looked down which showed me she lost confidence and didn’t have complete conviction, absolute coward.

Reluctantly paying the fee two minutes before the desk closed, I was relieved to have a new guy checking me in partially being able to keep some pride intact. I had told him about his Devil Manager and to my surprise, he agreed she isn’t well liked and after a big bitching session, I felt a bit better whilst thinking, how dare she do her job so rigorously.

Final boarding calls were sounding which didn’t stop me heading straight to the bar to get a beer, I needed it. Necking the beer, I walked to the gate and was last to board the plane which I might add, was only 20 percent full, what an absolute bitch, I could have packed a mini convertible and still had room for her dead body.