Where's the male 'us'?

Last night a fellow single gal pal came around for some drinks and a debrief about navigating this relatively new single lifestyle...it's been about 8 months for me, and a little over a year for her.

I have not yet dipped my toe into what I have heard is a relatively small dating gene pool (given that we live in a 'regional centre', and from what I have heard from other single gal pals), while she has just started to wade in. We're not after a serious relationship, but we're at the point that we would like to meet someone that we could grab dinner with, see a movie or potentially engage in other nocturnal activities with...

I'm starting to hear some horror stories - you know the guys who send photos to prove how attractive they find them (if you get my drift) when they've barely exchanged names and numbers, the guys who are married but want to play the field and other charming behaviour...but I'm trying to make sure that those stories don't cloud by otherwise fledgling optimism.

And we figured last night - well here we are, two reasonably attractive, intelligent women, who like food, good conversation, a glass (or several) of wine and certain nocturnal activities - there must be the male version of us out there!


But not in the weird "I'm in love with myself" sense (pardon the low resolution):

A funny thing happened on the way to the chemist..

In a couple of weeks I'm getting a Mirena inserted - I figure even though the likelihood of having sex is incredibly low, the last thing I need (apart from a hole in the head and say to be attacked by a shark) is another kid!

So with prescription in hand, I go to the chemist after getting over my trepidation about having an IUD inserted in my lady parts (I'm not a prude, I just find that phrase quite funny at the moment). I've shaken off the stigma of IUDs being old metal contraptions from the 1970s and am feeling all cool and yay me doing something else for myself which I don't need to discuss with anyone else and how lucky women are in the first world to easily take control of their bodies and reproductive health blah blah blah...when the chemist hands over a rectangular box containing said IUD...which is almost as long as my arm! Eek!

So I'm in the chemist holding a massive box (*snigger) and have to immediately grapple not only the thought of how much of this device is going to be inserted inside my uterus and kept there for about 5 years; I also had to struggle carrying it discreetly in a virtually transparent plastic bag, down the main street and back up to work on my lunch break!

Note re *snigger. I'm just a big lover of double entendre.