The Great Aussie Man Drought

Bernard Salt has a lot to answer for.  He has been spreading rumours that have scared the wits out of 30-something single gals.  In 2005, Salt proclaimed a Great Aussie Man Drought. This man famine would have smart, successful, single women in the prime of their lives fight for whatever scraps of single men remain. According to Salt’s distressing stats, by the time a woman has the means to strut a pair of Jimmy Choos without maxing out her credit, all hopes of finding the elusive Mr. Right are blown away like long, messy hair on a windy day. Only this time, recovery takes more than a visit to the salon.

By Salt’s calculations (he’s a KPMG bean counter), if you take all the 30-something women in Australia and subtract the men of the same age, you’re left with a disastrous oversupply of 20,000 partnerless femmes condemned for singledom. And ladies, Salt would have us know the 40s and 50s don’t get any better. 

Apparently, back in 1976, it was land aplenty with 98,000 32 year-old women taking their pick of 102,000 male booty. These days, Salt reckons a woman of 32 has about as much chance of finding a partner her age as a woman of 82. Ouch!

It seems the tables have turned. Men in their 30’s are enjoying a glut of available chicks. This explains my 30 year old housemate’s man-about-town posture, his nonchalance to female rejection and previously unexplained Hollywood-star-like popularity with hot sheilas. Yes, it’s party time for a man of 30.

Scouring through archives of material on the man drought topic, I find Wall Street predicting a man famine in early 2005. Even Newsweek claiming a rather “facetious hyperbole” that women over 40 had a better chance of “being shot by a terrorist than finding a husband”. Cruel!

Now it’s Salt alarming designer-shoe wearing single women of the so-called man drought. Dare I say, expecting them to quiver and fall in their sky-high stilettos.

Another Aussie bloke, Mark McCrindle, sings from the same stinking songbook. He has the tenacity to advise 30-something femme singletons pack their bags and head for mining towns, areas with military bases or prisons.

No man drought there!

He must be kidding. I don’t believe designer gear is made for off-road. I’m pretty sure the local waterhole in Kalgoorlie does not stock them either. And I’ve a gut feeling bright prison overalls simply clash with a chocolate brown Chloe bag.

Salt cheerfully offers his version of “menopolis” hoping to gladden the hearts of 20,000 desperate and dateless chicks. Pssst… East Killara in NSW tops the list.

Five years on, it appears Salt is now declaring the man drought over. And that’s thanks to the GFC. According to recent research, single Aussie men in their 30’s working in male-dominated industries, such as financial services, as expats were coming home after hard economic times had left them without a job.

Now, that’s just great. Are we now to settle for single, broke men who’s come home to lick their wounds?

Not in my Jimmy Choos.

Man-drought or not, the prospects aren’t looking good. And I’m speaking from my long history of dating mishaps, love won and lost, a man trail of bad choices that led me down the yellow brick road too many times I’d be appointed mayor by Fourquare. And an even longer trail of excuses that kept the wrong men in my life for too long faking it is now on autopilot. To my detriment.

The traditionalists argue the dry spell of good men has been around since women broke out of the mould and demanded more than the quiet, suburban life of 2.5 kids and a white picket fence, asserting their power in society, at work and in the bedroom. But in my humble opinion, if a man cowers away because a woman happens to be sexy, smart, successful and stands tall on her sky-high stilettos, then he can merrily sprint away because he ain’t the man.

Others argue women, in their eagerness to bag Mr Almost Right, have simply lowered the bar, abandoned their table etiquettes and offered dessert before the entrees were even served. After all, you can’t blame a person for skipping the salad in favour of a freshly baked warm chocolate fondant.

Or maybe, we have all become accustomed to instant gratification. Everything seems to be happening at lightning speed in this day of communication superhighway. Need last minute company? Call the mobile. Afraid to call? Text. Not getting a response? Facebook. Didn’t get the answer you wanted? Call someone else. And the cycle continues.

Then imagine this sequence of events happening in less than half an hour.

So perhaps, the issue is less about the man drought. It’s more about our changing habits, lifestyles and expectations that are influencing the way we attract, keep and lose relationships with the people in our lightning speed, high-tech lives.

But you have to give it to Salt and McCrindle. They have balls alright.

With all these man drought racket, are we really to believe single, successful women in their 30’s are doomed for singletown if wedding plans aren’t on their list of must-do-before-the-big-3-0?

Has the time finally come for an én masse man-panic?

Should 30-something femme singletons do whatever it takes to whip a man into matrimonial submission for fear of a manless life?

Ladies (and gentlemen), I want to know what you think. Is there really a man drought?