“So, I take it you’ve seen I like to be dominated by women, right?”
This, Kids, was the hot, abs-to-bloody-die-for Jeremy’s opening line to me, after we’d swiped right on each other on Tinder in August 2017.
Had I just stumbled upon Cape Town’s Christian Grey? Oh my…
Actually, I hadn’t see this particular kink of his. I, unashamedly so, had swiped right based on his hot AF profile photo without actually reading his profile.
Yes, yes, I was a wanton hussy, falling for physical appearances.
As I may have mentioned before, I have control issues and I have always thought of myself as a female Christian with singular tastes but this interaction with Jeremy was making my inner Ana tremble in… fear? Anticipation? I don’t know!
Biting my bottom lip, I replied to his message:
“Well, I do now…”
Jeremy clearly found my dominatrix skills lacking and vanished from my inbox, never to heard from again.
Him: “I like you but…. I don’t want a relationship for the next 5 years”
Me: “Then why did you ask me out when I told you I am a relationship girl, you dumb shit!”
Let me tell you a little story about someone I met after Dr Douchebag. This one just so happens to be a doctor as well. Sadly, no McSteamy or McDreamy…. well he’s Mcsteamy but I ain’t telling him that! Nah ah booboo.
No, I am not a doctor nor do I work in the medical field – it was just a really weird time where for some reason the men I met through friends all turned out to be medical professionals.
We met, sparks flew in every which way possible. I know he was super into it because he literally ran to get back to me when he had to leave for about 5 minutes to” get smokes” as he calls it. He could not be away from me for longer than a few minutes, we liked the same things and had similar interests in travel and life. He’s into online gaming, I’m in to online gaming so… nerdgasm right?
And he totally fit my tall dark and handsome requirements. The friends we were with melted in to the background of wherever we were and all that was left was the two of us. This is the beginning of a great love story right, RIGHT?!
So f***ing wrong!
We hit it off and we kept in touch. We have “The Talk:
I tell him I’m a relationship girl and that I don’t do the casual thing. Which he responded to by trying out some moves which I deflected with my ninja like abilities because they don’t call me Chun Li for nothing!
They call me Chun Li because of my eyes and hair but I digress…
Everything was going well and we went out a few times and a few months go by and he decides we need the talk…. again.
The same spiel comes out that I had already played out in my head, except for a few minor tweaks.
It started off quite normally:
Him: “I like you, this is amazing never felt like this before and I want to get closer much closer…”
Same old same old right? Hold on to your hats, Bitches, shit’s about to get real…where did we leave off…ah yes:
Him:” I want to get closer … but is it ok if we bang and I don’t speak to you for like two weeks because that’s just who I am? Also, I don’t want a relationship with anyone for five years but I feel this is something that we can build on. This, you and me thing …do you agree?”
Please join me in a moment of silence for this almost relationship because it’s dead now!
I’m sorry… WHAT?
Why the F***?!
Why ask me out in the first place if you did not want to pursue something more?! Why keep up the pretence?!
Why the f*** not just say you want a special friend to help you when you have an itch?! I would have understood… and by that I mean I would have walked away a lot sooner – A LOT sooner!
Y’all men make it so hard not to hate all of you from the get go…
This experience left me asking “How can a doctor be so stupid”? I mean in your years of reading books about the anatomy and whatever else ,you could not pick up a book about how to not be an idiot …they have a whole series of For Dummies books. YOUR NAME IS IN THE TITLE!!
Boys pretending to be men are stupid and this more than solidified my belief that it doesn’t matter how many degrees or PhDs you have, it doesn’t make you a man. Anyone can memorise tons of reading material. Too bad he couldn’t memorise a relationship book -namely how not to be a dumbass in one!
If anyone knows where the real men are ,could you drop a sista a line, send a smoke signal or something cause I’m done with this.
I am not shaving my legs unless you’re worth me looking extra cute or it’s a really hot summer day and I want to wear a skirt!
Kids, in the winter of 2017, I was dipping my toe back into the online dating pool after the disastrous ankle-interruptus incident when I “e-met” haagen_dazsmania on OkCupid.
From his profile photo, he looked like a South African version of the red headed Montague cousin in Romeo& Juliet:
Red heads weren’t my usual type, unless you count Tom Hiddleston (and Hello Love, who wouldn’t want a piece of that?!), but I was trying to date outside of my comfort zone so I entertained haagen_dazmania and his many, many messages online.
A cheese producer, my new suitor was into books, fantasy series, chocolate, cats, shopping with his sister, big romantic gestures ( asking me at one point how I’d feel about a massive chocolate bouquet delivery at work) and leaving me rhyming couplets via voice notes daily ( his voice sounded sexy so I was really looking forward to seeing the face behind it).
After a week we moved onto text messaging and phone calls. I was initially annoyed because he seemed to need a lot of attention and you guys know how I felt about selective social interaction. Texting me incessantly throughout the working day and up until after 11pm at night was NOT the way to winning my heart.
Fast forward to our first date and after my initial reservations, I was excited about getting ready for the date, Whatsapping photos of my outfit to your Spirit Mom and Uncle Tendai.
I didn’t have too many butterflies floating around in my tummy whilst waiting for haagen_dazsmania to arrive at the Stacked Diner in Tamboerskloof but I was pleasantly nervous.
This could be the start of something new – I felt like a High School Musical cast member:
When will I ever learn that online dating is a pitfall of liars and crooks?!
The man who showed up for our date was at least 10 years older than his profile photo , overweight and way shorter than he’d indicated online!
I was not so shallow as to judge men on their looks (ok, who am I kidding? My dreams were filled with a naked Alexander Skarsgard!) but haagen_dazmania was balding, wearing a peak cap, his shirt buttons were about to pop and his teeth needed a whitening badly.
This was not someone I could envision sharing a bed with, never mind cursing you, my future babies, to share a genetic pool with.
His appearance, coupled with his need to text me while I was in the ladies for two minutes and his critique of my looks and personality made me want to dash and run at the speed of light like a female The Flash:
But, because I had promised myself I was going to give guys more than one date to impress me, I sat through two hours of him talking about himself; making shocking comments on the state of the security in South Africa;his friends’ wealth and emigration plans; how I seemed to be very busy and how could I possibly balance my extensive love of movies and books with my constant socializing.
The entire time, he was reviewing my looks ( “Nice dress, it really compliments your brown complexion” – are you f***ing kidding me?!); my expressions and eyes ( “You have a smirk on your face , is that how you usually look?” and “Your eyes are really brown. I’m sorry, I am totally mesmerized by them” and my personality ( “You’re hot and scary and so direct about what you want”).
The final straw for me was his views on how travel and children just took too much effort and were expensive undertakings. I’d been very upfront online and in person that seeing the world and having you were my top priorities. These were non-negotiables and I needed a partner who not only wanted these things, but was passionate about making them happen.
After politely ending the date on the pretext of collecting your Spirit brother and sister in Hout Bay ( I didn’t have to get them), I left in a hurry.
Which didn’t stop him from trying to call me and sending needy texts about how he was worried he’d scared me off. Dude, learn when to back the f*** off!
A few days and another goddamn 11pm text later, I released him back into the online wild. Go well, Sir, and cat-fish someone else with your old photos.
Kids, a huge part of why I took so long to meet your father was because I had experienced most of my dalliances a long, long time before then. Today, I’ll tell you about my brush with preteen romance…
I was 12 and experiencing my second real crush … His name was Shafiek and he was a 15-year-old school dropout turned mechanic with dimples to die for and a heart so beautiful I couldn’t bear it.
It was like that 90s classic My Girl but set in Cape Town:
I know he doesn’t sound like much of a teenage Lothario but bear in mind that at this age, I was trying really hard to fit in with my older half-sisters and their blossoming relationships ( a habit I’d learn to break years later when I was on the brink of turning 30).
Shafiek was sweet, a simple guy with simple thoughts and he treated me like a princess.
I remember long nights of doing nothing but talking, lying in his arms and listening to him tell me about his amazing father and his dreams for the future, whilst he rubbed my back and I fell asleep. Again, I was 12 and staying up with the older kids was not my forte at the time.
In the mornings, he’d wake me up with a gentle kiss on the forehead, telling me he was going to miss me all day before he left for work.
And that’s how life in the autumn and winter of 1998 passed us by -evenings spent at the Strandfontein Pavillion, talking in his truck; playing card games at home or double dating with my half-sister and her boyfriend.
Let’s just kiss and say goodbye …
Life as a tween moves pretty quickly and after a few months of not seeing Shafiek, I had met and fallen in love with Zunaid (even though it would take us another year before we actually started dating).
By this time, Shafiek had moved on to his ex-girlfriend and while we never saw each other again, I always hoped he was happy and loved.
In many ways, this short-lived romance of my pre-teen years formed the basis of what I wanted my forever relationship to be about: love, respect, trust and friendship.
And it did… which ultimately led me to you, my beautiful babies xx
Kids, you remember The Oversharer 2, right? Mr I have no confidence, I am broke and I still live at home with my mommy and daddy? Well, in the winter of 2017, he also became a rude online dater which provoked my inner Daenerys Targaryen.
He made me so angry I wanted to burn down his house, Khaleesi style… but I am getting ahead of myself.
The fool must have been suffering from some kind of convenient amnesia because he slid into my DMs with a “Hey! How you doing?”
Remembering how unbelievably needy he’d been before and that he did not seem to be a good match, I replied with a curt “Not interested”.
To which he quickly replied:
“It was mistake, you fat bitch!”
Are you f***ing kidding me? This neurotic, Failure to Launch type asshole who was the last person to talk about looks considering what he looked like, was body shaming my curvaceous, beautiful self? Oh f***k no!
As the iconic Bette Midler once sang, “I’m Beautiful, dammit!”
How is it that guys think they shit ice cream and are above being rejected so they turn abusive? Not on my watch, they don’t!
No one disrespects me like that and lives to tell the tale:
I blocked and deleted him with a long email written to OkCupid to complain and ban him too.
Enter michealallthetime, a 31-year-old account manager for petrol giant Engen from Goodwood, on OkCupid.
Great start but Mister doesn’t even have a profile pic of himself, just a wide shot of the beach – red flag number 1.
Within two messages of not introducing himself as it were, he’s asking if he can be really honest and forward with me…
Since your momma wasn’t born yesterday, I could see that this was a prelude for being sexually inappropriate but to mess with this idiot, I was like “Sure, but how about you start by telling me your name?”
I swear it’s like giving a bull the go ahead with a red scarf, the way the Spaniards do in bullfights.
Off he goes with the name details and then hits me with:
“I’m in the mood to be super naughty. I’m looking for a girl for long term too but for now, I wanna get dirty.”
Sweet Mother of God… why, WHY did I seem to attract these horny fools?!
Fed up with the sheer audacity of some jackass who was too ashamed of being online to post a real profile pic but seemed to think it was perfectly OK to make me feel like a digital whore, I needed to school this fool and school him hard.
I channelled my inner Beyoncéand levelled his stupid ass with this:
“Look, Son, good on you that you want to be dirty and all but, as per my profile, I am a grown ass woman who dates. If that’s not your deal, and clearly since you’re hiding behind silly pics, it isn’t … get stepping right now.”
To the left, please, and stay there!
Brother man got the hint and there was radio silence forever after.
“First date and you’ve sprained your ankle, huh? Tough break, my dear.At least he’s sticking around for now… maybe this will lead to better things”
This, Kids, is what Sharon the mystic healer was saying to me as she tried to infuse healing energy into my bruised ankle, whilst simultaneously trying to reassure me that my first date with Hellrider83 was not as disastrous as I thought it was.
She lied… it was!
In a spectacular imitation of my literary and cinematic heroine, Bridget Jones, I had managed to sustain a horrible ankle injury by slipping on the wet ground outside of Cavendish Square, on a busy Saturday morning with hundreds of witnesses.
Under any circumstances, this would have been embarrassing but , because this is my life and the Universe loves f***ing with me, this also just happened literally moments before I was to meet my latest OkCupid hottie for our first date.
As Sharon so sweetly tried to smooth down my billowing dress ( remind me NEVER to wear that ill-fated polka dot dress to another date!) so onlookers would not see my multiple tummy tuck-in tights and the security guards called for the first aiders, Hellrider83 came to find me.
Cue the awkward “So sorry about this. Could we possibly reschedule our first date?” conversation, with Sharon and co listening in.
Seriously…ground swallow me whole!
To his credit, Hellrider83 stuck around for the mucho embarrassing wheelchair ride through the mall and even offered to go with me to the nurse at Dischem to have my ankle wrapped but he looked hellavu relieved when I told him to go , I’d be fine and I would text him.
Which I did, and apologized profusely for my Joneseque behaviour and ….not a peep out of him. Nada, zilch, zero after three days. I’d been dumped, again, before even being dated.
F*** it! NEXT!
I wouldn’t mind, really, but by then, EVERYONE in Cavendish Square knew that this poor girl twisted her ankle whilst on a first date… the pity looks, the “Shame, my dear!” comments while trying to stop their tears of laughter running down their cheeks, were not doing my fragile ego any favours.
Kids, with #WonderWomanDay being celebrated on Saturday 3 June, 2017, in honour of the ultimate female superhero’s 75 year anniversary and the release of her first live motion film, it was only a matter of time before I dusted off my Amazon Princess suit and took to the streets of Cape Town in it…
Ok, maybe not the streets – but definitely to Readers Den, my home away from home since age 5, for their Wonder Woman Day event: