Being Emotionally Available

Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese recently played ‘Shag, Marry, Date’ on the Bush Deep podcast and admitted he would like to be balls deep in Kylie Minogue. This brings a new tone to Australian diplomacy and the next time Albo meets the Pope, he could ask him the same question. Imagine Albo turning up to Davos or G20 and insisting they should all play the game. There could be a joint communique on their agreed choice of woman with Macron insisting on a place for the older woman and why not? I went out with three. I think readers can easily recognise that such discussions may be more useful than what they normally talk about.

Given Albo’s comments on the Japanese female Prime Minister’s melons, the new Australian diplomatic present would obviously be a fruit basket. Come back Sir Les Patterson as all is forgiven and Janet Holmes a Court eat your heart out.

Of course, I jumped to the immediate conclusion that Albo was not being emotionally available. I was in fact wrong as on googling the term it means ‘having the capacity to understand your own feelings, articulate them honestly, and make space for others to do the same.’ Albo left us in no doubt of his feelings.

However digging deeper, I found being emotionally available has four main traits and I should outline for Albo how available I am as he may get some tips. When my wife asks me to hang out the washing I respond to these traits in the following ways.

Vulnerability: The willingness to share true feelings, fears, and needs, even when it feels uncomfortable.

I let my wife know that I can add value in other aspects of our lives and why would I waste my time hanging out the washing. Strangely this does not make me feel uncomfortable.

Self-Awareness: Being able to recognize your emotional triggers and take responsibility for your reactions.

I am emotionally triggered by her demands and out of deference to my feelings and my own truth I forget to hang out the washing, which I think is a responsible reaction.

Consistency: The reliability of showing up, communicating clearly, and ensuring your actions match your words.

Again, I show consistency in not hanging out the washing and I communicate with my wife that I have other things to think about. Cutting my toenails takes up a lot of time. My actions definitely match my words.

Empathy: Listening attentively and validating someone else’s feelings without the immediate need to “fix” the problem.

I listen attentively to my wife’s complaints on not hanging out the washing and while I validate her feelings I tell her there is no immediate need to fix the problem. What’s the rush?

There you are Albo. Simple.

P.S. I now have a reader in Iran.

Jesus wants me for a sunbeam

It is that time in the cycle again. Every two years the government sends me a bowel cancer testing kit with which I am meant to return a faecal sample. The problem is I have lost the test kit and the return envelope. Undeterred I have laid a deposit in a normal envelope and I have sellotaped it as best as I can. There is a little seepage from the sides, but I am sure Australia Post can handle that. Not knowing where to send it, I have sent it to the Prime Minister’s office as our newly elected Prime Minister seems to have a solution to all of Australia’s problems. I am sure he must know the relevant department. I’m hoping for confirmation of receipt.

***

I recently had the chance to go to a ZZ Top concert, which for all who know me must surely regard as an aberration. Always game for source material I was undeterred in putting on my sensation seeker’s hat. I was looking forward to it as I had listened to ‘Gimme all your lovin’. It was the first time I had been to a concert of contemporary music as my usual gig, if you will excuse the pun, has been classical concerts including opera and ballet. My fellow concertgoers were slack-jawed when I told them it was my first time. It was if I had just admitted to being a virgin. Each to his own.

It was certainly throwback time. There were a lot of aged rockers, both on and off stage, while numerous rocker chicks, both young and old, wore jeans far too tight for them. As ZZ Top has been visiting Adelaide since 1981 some of their original supporters had turned up, beards and all, with younger members of their family trying to emulate their granddads. You do not often see that in modern society, but this was clearly a family event. I was impressed by the number of ZZ Top beards given their scarcity in the circles in which I move. Where these people live, I know not. Clearly not the eastern suburbs.

Ahead of sitting down I inserted earplugs, but on second thoughts I added two others just to make sure. I am now waiting to get them surgically removed at the end of June. An eight week wait, but that is why you pay for private health insurance. The first act was George Thorogood and the Destroyers. They all had surprisingly good heads of hair even though they were all 72. Though not all was well with their bodies. The bass guitarist at one stage had his legs spread so wide he seemed to be attempting the splits. Either that or his hips had locked. After 10 minutes, having been immobile from the hips down, we knew his hips had actually locked. Their session ended early so he could be taken off.

Returning to our seats post interval, the stage was literally a wall of speakers. With two sets of earplugs in place I felt confident I could survive. I had not reckoned on the G-force of the blast. I looked round and it all looked as if we were all skydiving as the flesh of our faces was flattened. A few days later I was asked what the concert was like. ‘LOUD. VERY LOUD.’ My questioner could not understand why I was shouting.

Jesus wants me for a sunbeam

It is that time in the cycle again. Every two years the government sends me a bowel cancer testing kit with which I am meant to return a faecal sample. The problem is I have lost the test kit and the return envelope. Undeterred I have laid a deposit in a normal envelope and I have sellotaped it as best as I can. There is a little seepage from the sides, but I am sure Australia Post can handle that. Not knowing where to send it, I have sent it to the Prime Minister’s office as our newly elected Prime Minister seems to have a solution to all of Australia’s problems. I am sure he must know the relevant department. I’m hoping for confirmation of receipt.

***

I recently had the chance to go to a ZZ Top concert, which for all who know me must surely regard as an aberration. Always game for source material I was undeterred in putting on my sensation seeker’s hat. I was looking forward to it as I had listened to ‘Gimme all your lovin’. It was the first time I had been to a concert of contemporary music as my usual gig, if you will excuse the pun, has been classical concerts including opera and ballet. My fellow concertgoers were slack-jawed when I told them it was my first time. It was if I had just admitted to being a virgin. Each to his own.

It was certainly throwback time. There were a lot of aged rockers, both on and off stage, while numerous rocker chicks, both young and old, wore jeans far too tight for them. As ZZ Top has been visiting Adelaide since 1981 some of their original supporters had turned up, beards and all, with younger members of their family trying to emulate their granddads. You do not often see that in modern society, but this was clearly a family event. I was impressed by the number of ZZ Top beards given their scarcity in the circles in which I move. Where these people live, I know not. Clearly not the eastern suburbs.

Ahead of sitting down I inserted earplugs, but on second thoughts I added two others just to make sure. I am now waiting to get them surgically removed at the end of June. An eight week wait, but that is why you pay for private health insurance. The first act was George Thorogood and the Destroyers. They all had surprisingly good heads of hair even though they were all 72. Though not all was well with their bodies. The bass guitarist at one stage had his legs spread so wide he seemed to be attempting the splits. Either that or his hips had locked. After 10 minutes, having been immobile from the hips down, we knew his hips had actually locked. Their session ended early so he could be taken off.

Returning to our seats post interval, the stage was literally a wall of speakers. With two sets of earplugs in place I felt confident I could survive. I had not reckoned on the G-force of the blast. I looked round and it all looked as if we were all skydiving as the flesh of our faces was flattened. A few days later I was asked what the concert was like. ‘LOUD. VERY LOUD.’ My questioner could not understand why I was shouting.