The skin where my thighs meet is a little sweaty, and I'm trying to minimise the tell-tell signs of the heat, as my face is bright red, and my cleavage a little shiny with perspiration.
These are the issues I worry about in the heat of summer, rushing back from a glorious lunch with the Acting Girls.
As usual, our conversation centred around the perils and adversity of dating in Sydney. A city of 6 million, in which I estimate 1.5 are men in their twenty-somethings. And yet, we are all still single.
Kate-Hudson-look-alike and Femme-Fatal-Wanna-Be and myself, a self confessed Wanna-Be-Hollywood-Starlet.
I'm really not sure what there will be left to talk about when we are eventually in relationships.
Kate-Hudson is sleeping with the same guy as four years ago when she was 20, although he is still with his live-in girlfriend. She is chasing a CK underwear model, (who is the hottest guy I literally have ever seen), and I wish I had the guts to tell her, he's just not that into you. And so each acting class and party and function and casting, where he is, she makes a complete and utter fool of herself. A stray cat has more of a chance of getting in CK's pants than she does unfortunately.
Femme-Fatal is gorgeous, just struggling, like all of us, in the dating arena. She has never had a boyfriend and is a walking monument to Man's stupidity. She recently asked out Body Builder from class via text, after 6 months of intense flirting and prolonged kissing scenes. He said he'd love too. But when she suggested dinner and a movie his response was I don't think my girlfriend would be to happy with that. Ah, you kidding me? WTF!
And then there's me. We already know the story. I can't get a break. BM has laid off the stalking, and I'm enjoying the break from avoiding phone calls, incessant texts, and church stalkings.
I watched these friends, who I was so dubious of in the beginning, so pleased to have found such delight in the darkness of a city crowded by the illusion of happiness and friendship. Sometimes the greatest friendships arise out of the least likely places.
More than once in the past month, have I been thankful for the guidance of Carrie Bradshaw and the ladies of Manhattan. They taught us how to date, who not to date, and that being single can be fabulous.