I got off at my station and trudged along the street to the small bed-sit I rent in Spotswood. It's situated in a two-story block amongst fifteen others varying from bed-sits to one and two bedrooms. Mine is on the second story. The flight of stairs is in the middle. Four units on either side with a verandah extending each way. They are like a motel, with rows of doors and car parks in front running the length of the building. The garden, a patch of weeds, surrounds a small mailbox wall.

Percy, one of my neighbours, caught me on the stairs. "Hello, Jasmine Baker." He always addressed me this way, it was cute. I'm sure it has to do with his culture. Percy's from India and so polite.

"You want to watch a film with Percy this weekend?"

We often watch movies together and share food, he's a great cook. His meals are exotic and aromatic. Unlike the bland bangers and mash, I make when he comes to mine. I don't think he likes Australian food much but he tolerates what I serve. I grinned and said, "I'll let you know, Percy. Belinda and Macy might have something planned."

His gaze swept along my legs, the second man to do this today. Paranoia kicked in. I pictured dirt, jam, chocolate or cream custard from someone's dessert smeared on them.

"Ah yes, your friends might need you." He tweaked his eyebrows and grinned. "Tonight is Rafter night on the television, Australian family...very good. Percy will watch."

I laughed, waved, and headed up the stairs and into my unit.

Stepping inside my door after work is one of my favourite things. My feet killed me. I couldn't wait to kick my shoes off. I have this fancy move where I toe to heel one shoe to the other, peel my foot from my Skechers, flick it toward the bed and close the door behind me in one motion. I've practised a lot. Now I'm a pro.

I hung my bag on the back of one of the dining room chairs and dashed into the bathroom to go to the loo.

After washing my hands, I stared at my reflection and wondered if the guy on the train liked my appearance. Mum says I'm peaches and cream. To me, that means burn like a crisp in the sun, and glow in the dark. Turning my head from side to side I saw that the tight hairdo from that morning had let blonde tresses slip free to trail both sides of my face. It didn't look too bad. Lipstick is my go-to makeup but it had worn off hours ago to reveal my pale pink lips. I studied my grey-blue eyes. They had nothing on Train Guy's vivid green colour.

Is it just me or do men always have longer lashes?

There was a faded blemish on my left cheek because I'd whacked it against the door frame when I stumbled home from an outing to the local pub with Macy and Belinda. A small bruise was a deserved punishment. I studied my legs, found nothing unusual, sighed and imagined what it would be like to date someone like Train Guy. I shook that idea from my head and laughed. Train Guy's girlfriend would have to be very self-assured. She'd be forever watching him afraid he'd hook up with someone else.

I stripped off, showered, and then made a toasted sandwich for dinner before settling down to watch "Packed to the Rafters".

Bad idea. In this episode, Rachel searched for love. It reminded me how pathetic I was when it came to men. My last boyfriend thought the best way to have a good time was to get high. The one before that was self-centred, I'm sure he didn't even know my name. My first love? Well...that's another story.

I have decided to give up on men and "find" myself.

What a joke.

Like what does that mean anyway?

I play squash on Wednesday nights, go out with the girls on Friday and Saturday nights, unless I'm at work, do my housework and washing on the weekends, and write most other evenings.

I work nine to six every day as a waitress at Kæ'feı 'Rɒbərt. It's a Greek café in the middle of the city. An Australian named Robert owns it. Robert has no Greek heritage at all. The café is more of a wine bar. It opens early to serve brunch and coffee then closes late to catch the wine and restaurant trade. Robert is a clever man. He has hit on a business that covers every attraction in the food, wine, coffee and entertainment industry.

Kæ'feı 'Rɒbərt alters with every hour. Its morning patrons are offered beverages and delicate pastries. The lunch menu of beautiful salads and light main courses is accompanied by a single guitarist playing soft background music, the twilight trade moves from these gentle melodies to more seductive tones and belly dancers. As the evening becomes night, Kæ'feı 'Rɒbərt shifts to a riotous mood. Drunken patrons smash plates and attempt to mimic the dancers.

Robert makes us change into our uniforms at work and has them laundered each night. The butterfly tops, harem pants, tiered skirts, hip scarfs and veils are embellished with shells, beads, sequins, coins and trinkets. They come in reds, black, midnight blue and purples to portray traditional belly dancer clothes.

Another hook to ensnare male clientele.

I work the day shift, because I don't want to dance or have any desire to make some extra cash after closing, like I know some of the other girls do. Now and then, I work an evening stint mixing cocktails and serving food.

We have to wear one of these costumes. I don't mind most days except when half-cut customers decide they want a piece of you and shove a hand up your skirt.

Kæ'feı "Rɒbərt is always busy and I just manage to catch the 6.20 home each day.

My real world is boring, and the rest of my life is fantasy, so who is the real me? I don't know, but I hope I'll "find" myself, one day.

Have you tried to find yourself?

Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask myself who I am.  Then I laugh because it's kinda a really hard question to answer.

The photo is how I imagine Percy.

Words -1032

Photocopyright - Adobestock