Single in Sydney: Sarah limbers up for a dating marathon after pep talk from a matchmaking guru

AFTER a confidence-boosting pep talk with a dating guru, Sarah is ready to tackle a series of gruelling dates in her quest for true love.

SARAH Swain has been single for eight years. That’s nearly 3000 days without a boyfriend and she’s not afraid to admit it either.

That’s because it’s tough out there, as any single will tell you, so to bring hope to others across the city, she’s sharing her no-holds-barred adventures on the Sydney single scene every Friday.

WEEK SEVEN A Dating Marathon

This week I’ve been the Cathy Freeman of the internet dating world.

After revamping my online profile as per the dating guru’s suggestions, heeding a friend’s advice about going on as many short ‘coffee’ dates as possible, and getting set by charging my iPhone (again!), I entered the race for real.

A dating marathon. Not 26 miles but 26 males (well, almost.)

Limbered-up and ready.

And my first date was on a sunny Sunday afternoon at a North Sydney pub.

In the spirit of keeping it short, I’d even shoved my shopping bags in my handbag so I could go to Aldi on the way home.

He arrived at exactly the same time as me (unless he’d been hiding in the bushes) and we knew each other instantly. Not in an ‘our eyes met across a crowded room’ way, just in the ‘two people on an internet date’ way.

WEEK ONE: I’VE BEEN SINGLE FOR 3000 DAYS

WEEK FOUR: TINDER THROWS UP NOT SO GREAT DATES

As we awkwardly shook hands and headed towards the bar, I noticed he was tall. I also noticed he was South African, which was something I’d either failed to discover or forgot amid the endless streams of Brits, Aussies and Kiwis I’d chatted to.

He had a lime and soda, while I had a Coke Zero, and we found an empty table.

He told me about how he ended up in Sydney, while I shared my story too.

He was also into photography, he said, which I’m quite interested in.

We chatted a bit about our home countries and jobs.

It was all very nice.

It was just that. Nice. About as exciting as a cloudy Sunday afternoon drinking a Coke Zero could be.

After finishing our drinks, we walked towards his car (luckily, Aldi was in the same direction).

“I’ll speak to you online!” he said, as we parted.

I went and did my shopping and didn’t think much more about him.

Less than 24 hours later I was clutching a hot chocolate in a city cafe waiting for my next date.

There’s just one problem with chatting with so many people online.

I’d forgotten his name.

In fact, I scrolled through our messages and discovered I hadn’t even learned it.

And he hadn’t asked mine, either.

I messaged him and bizarrely, the introductions were over just before he walked in.

He was a British banker, so we had a lot to talk about.

I’m on course for a dating record.

I even vaguely knew the obscure town he came from, and managed to hold a conversation about football (kind of). He seemed like a good guy, and was even slightly cute.

But I knew it was a bad sign though that he returned to his office. At 7pm. On a Monday.

And as I headed over the Harbour Bridge on the train, I checked Tinder.

The South African had sent me a nice message saying he’d like to see me again. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Should I give him another chance? I’d think about it, I decided.

The next morning, I checked my phone. I had a message from the banker.

“It was nice to meet you but unfortunately I don’t think we’re a match.”

Ouch.

I was upset. I mean, how can you judge somebody in half an hour..?

Eek!

I’d just done exactly the same thing.

WEEK THREE: DID BRIDGET JONES EVER HAVE IT THIS BAD?

WEEK SIX: WIN ONLINE WITH AN MILLIONAIRE GURU

I went online immediately to message the South African and give him another chance.

He’d been near the top of the list of my Tinder ‘matches’.

But I couldn't see him, so I searched for his name.

And he’d gone.

Virtually upped and left as I dithered.

In the online dating world, that means he’d unmatched me, so I couldn’t contact him.

Things move faster than Usain Bolt online it seems. And I was getting trampled by the other runners.

Cathy Freeman’s a marathon champ.

Usain Bolt. Only marginally faster than an internet dater.

But I dusted off my pride. After all, I had more dates to get through.

Wednesday I met a Greek guy in Crows Nest. A cafe owner, he was interesting, ambitious and quite cute.

But I was put off when I told my colleagues about him.

“Have you seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding?” one editor declared snorting with laughter.

Hmm, not sure I could handle his mum, actually, especially as he said they lived in the same building.

WEEK TWO- WHY IT’S SO HARD TO MEET A MAN IN SYDNEY

By now I was flagging, but I managed one last date on Sunday.

A quick drink at The Treehouse in North Sydney with a tattooed tradie.

I knew right away he wasn’t for me. Especially when texted me afterwards.

“It was great to meet you. How about next time we get a take away on the lounge?”

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

I’d be the takeaway ...

Details: Outfit by Lorna Jane

Tweet me @swainey123

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My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Not sure about that.

Harder than an actual marathon? Maybe.