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:
Kids, in the autumn of 2017, your Spirit Mom, Uncle T and I were having one of our daily WhatsApp conversations about life, work and crushes when Tendai threw a curveball at us…
We’d been discussing his latest cougar crush and teasing him about all of the very naughty things he wanted to do to her and he stopped my and Leo’s decidedly NSFW (not safe for work) lewd talk with this one liner:
“No, I just want to hug her and tell her that everything is going to be okay. That’s all I wanna do”
Leo and I both hit back with “What’s that code for?” and “Why does a guy just want to cuddle and hold? That doesn’t make sense!” because come on, hugs from guys ALWAYS meant they wanted more, right? RIGHT?
Nope…according to Lord Grey, sometimes a hug from a guy who likes you or whom you like is just that …a bloody hug.
Leo and I were floored, crushed, heartbroken, DEVASTATED.
As your Spirit Mom put it:
“I feel like my entire life’s outlook has just been turned upside down. I’m so confused now “
As for me, my world was spinning on its axis because those bone-crushing hugs that bordered on the inappropriate that I received from Monroe ( remember him?) still topped my all-time favourite crushee moments!
My mind was blown:
Leo was struggling with all the guys she turned away in her youth when they hugged her and said “Come to my flat and see my etchings”, thinking it was the 90s version of “Netflix and chill”. I was having a hard time seeing all those “moments” I thought I’d had with Monroe and past versions of him going up in smoke.
Lord Grey had messed us up worse than any of our previous “sandwich” experiences… F*** a zombie!
Tendai, realising how this had fundamentally changed my and Leo’s entire man-woman relations ideals, expanded on his theory a bit more:
“A man’s thoughts aren’t always the worst. Ya, we wanna get in and get out…that’s 90 – 95% of our thoughts but then there are those moments we wanna cuddle. Cuddling is a warm, relaxing and comforting feeling… especially after a long day.
He continued to drop this bombshell with:
“It’s platonic. Guys have no intentions for anything more. Just cuddling and maybe talk through the night. Just to forget about the madness of the world. It’s like how a woman says “Let’s go for a drink” and a guy thinks it’s code meanwhile, it’s literally just a drink!”
It would take days, weeks even, for Leo and I to recover from this explosive news…and when we chatted to other women about it, they’d had similar reactions. Life, as we knew it, was no longer the same…
Kids, in the autumn of 2017 I was MORE than ready to treat myself to another dating pause because gods be damned, pickings for suitable men were drier than the Sahara.
Nightly chats with your Auntie Yoli reassured me that I wasn’t the only one experiencing this phenomenon but nevertheless, in the interest of educating and certainly entertaining you, here are two occassions when I became well acquainted with the ol’ block button:
Whilst watching your Spirit Brother take his well earned turn on the cosplaying stage at the FanCon masquerade, I was joined by what on the surface seemed like a cute photographer named Cole *** ( name changed to protect the idiot’s identity).
It started out with that most perfect of rom-coms lines: “Is this seat taken?”
I was sure that finally, FINALLY my luck had turned and your Spirit Mom was right, I was meeting my Superman at a comic book convention. Here was someone who took an interest in me, my geekiness and was quite keen to get to know me.
While Cole initially charmed me with how uber excited he was to be there and cooing over the cute kids dressed in costume, he quickly disgraced himself in my eyes.
Not only did he quickly fill me in on the politics of comic book convention photography and the perverts that take models’numbers and details to stalk them with, but he then kept yelling sexist and inappropriate cat calls at the Masquerade MC ( and I quote : “OMG, you’re so hot…DO ME already!).
I shit you not.
As I hurriedly whisked your Spirit Brother off the stage and away, Cole yelled out to me:
“Invite me on Facebook!”
Hells to the f*** no! BLOCKED!
Another month, another comic book doos who thinks he has superhero player powers…
With two busy months of magic PR and mountain socials ahead of me, I was adamant about taking a break from dating… then Mo*** (again, for his own safety, let’s give him a different identity) slid into my Instagram DMs, as the cool kids (obviously not me!) would say.
This too-cool-for-school jackass managed to get in a couple of half-assed messages asking about my TV series, movies and comic book interests before throwing the “Come and give me a back massage” line at me.
What the actual f***?
We, and I stress this again, were not having a sexual conversation of any nature.
In fact, he hadn’t even made any mention of trying to chat me up, up until this point. I thought we were just having a general “Hey, we’re comic book geeks together” conversation so where, in all of Krypton, did this idiot get the idea that I wanted to be his masseuse or call girl?
I want to say I blocked him after that but sadly, when I didn’t respond to his request, he sent me another message a few days later, asking me to come and nurse him back to health because he had the flu.
Kids, every good writer and singleton looks to their peers for inspiration – others who were in the embattled trenches of dating in the 21st century and understood how hard it was finding love in the difficult hook-up culture we lived in.
In 2017, mine came in the form of the following three incredible dating bloggers:
Not only was your Auntie Yoli my gorgeous and amazing birthday twin, she was also a published author of the incredible We Write What We Like book AND she was sharing her dating woes online on the All4Women site.
A fabulous Capetonian, Yoli was tackling the ups and downs of the single life in sunny Florida and regaling international audiences with her often funny but always true stories.
We traded horror stories via WhatsApps and Twitter quite often but none of them made me spit my tea all over my phone like the one with the dodgy and cheap baseball player.
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Confession time: in 2017, I had a MAJOR online crush on the ridiculously handsome and sweet James .
As I followed his dating advice, fitness adventures and move to Hollywood on Instagram (and no, I was NOT stalking him …that behaviour is reserved for your future daddy Alexander Skarsgard!), I thoroughly enjoyed getting the male perspective on the dating scene.
This hottie (again, did I mention I was crushing hard???) posted fantastic video tips, inspirational quotes and adorable photos of his dog that gave me hope when I was in the dumps about bad online dating experiences.
I’d been addicted to Violet’s quirky musings about sex, love and the single life since seeing a live performance based on her blog and performed by the sexy Lynita Crawford at the Kalk Bay Theatre in 2015.
Reading the “real” Violet’s side-splitting tales online brought me many laughs and comforts on a daily basis.
Laugh out loud with the beautiful Violet Online here.
You know, I am sitting here at my desk as I do on a regular basis because, mamacita got a day job and there ain’t no sugar daddy in sight, which got me thinking about a certain someone that made me become more aware of the weird way in which some men operate.
I say some, because contrary to hurt girl beliefs, not all men are bad. There are awesome men out there, good ones, and gentlemen. Yes ladies as hard as it is to find them, there are some men who look out for the person in their lives.
Now that I have gotten that disclaimer out of the way, let’s begin with spilling the tea.
I would like to recite to you the tale of the Lady and the Douchebag, not just any douchebag I tell you, this one dear Sirs and Madams was a doctor. You know how everybody and their auntie wants to get together with a doctor because….bragging rights aaannnnnd free checkups well let me tell you, ye know the saying, “just because you met them at church don’t mean they ain’t a demon”. Well,just because he’s a doctor, doesn’t mean he will save you. Hippocratic Oath be damned …. this man needs to be schooled and not with a PHD.
It started off innocently enough. We met at a party with friends, locked eyes for longer than 5 seconds ,did the whole lingering smile thing before going back to our respective corners to critique and make notes with the guys and gals in our posse (Don’t give me the side eye ladies, you know you do this -men too)
At this point you may be asking why I call him Dr. Douchebag, to which in turn I say, you will understand and agree as you keep reading.I cannot make this shit up. At first you will like him but then you will squint your eyes and think to yourself….is this man an idiot?
Ok,so picture our first meeting; an extravagant birthday bash in a wonderful venue set against a beautiful backdrop of black and gold, swish and full of wonderment.
Beautiful people in beautiful clothes dressed to the nines, amazing music is pumping out from the DJ box, the crowd is alive and having a great time, we’re busting out moves that make Beyoncé shy away to the corner ’cause guuurl, we got this!
I’ve been on my diet and my gym game isstrong so the girl is snatched, yes Gawd! It’s all seemingly perfect right,? RIGHT!?!?!?!?!!?! I was wrong, nothing was perfect. It sunk like the Titanic before it even left the docks and although there was ice involved, there was no iceberg so mofo had me looking like a deer in the headlights, stunned AF.
As you do when you find someone you like and want to attract their attention in your direction you try and flirt. Problem is, I suck at flirting. All day every day I would not get even a D, it would be more like an F for WTF are you doing with your LIFE go buy yourself a clue. I tried and he looked like he was not interested so I chose to continue enjoying the night.
So, Mr. and his posse of 5 strong eligible friends looking like the Backstreet Boys decked out in all black like we’re one minute into the “I’ll never break your heart” video, (I’m a child of the 90’s, sue me) are generally all around me and our one common female friend.
He in particular is always right behind me which at first I could not figure out why because I thought my weak attempt at flirting had crashed and burned…(Chica you’re oblivious you might say while reading this, my response:YES. I was like a blind man in a dark room with no music, absolutely clueless.)
Their presence is so prominent my friends start asking why I brought bodyguards with me like I’m a foreign diplomat trying to suss out national secrets or something and I am oblivious to the fact that he has already laid claim to my person and is now protecting his territory.
Because I was so clueless I tried to move away from him as much as I could to get down and boogie but everywhere I went ,there he was. Eventually I sit down on one of the swish seats made available for our party and one of his friends ,whom I later found out was his brother, was sitting next to me.
We get chatting about frivolous nonsense and after a few moments I feel someone plop down next to me……yes that’s right it’s the doctor he is sitting as close as possible to me which I think is because he doesn’t want me speaking to his friend so I look up and let Mr. know I’m just finding out if his friend is ok. I think at the end of this little conversation he will get up and go, but boy was I wrong.
He stayed, ladies and gents, all freaking night, bought the most expensive bubbly you could at the establishment and always served me and only me and no one else……(Yes, I was that clueless, but he’s a douche so it evens itself out.)
We speak a bit and as I try to keep the conversation going, he gives me one word answers. Just like the men out there, women are not mind readers: if you like us, use the tools you were born with and let us know.
If you’re not good with that, go buy yourself some power tools and get to hammering away. I am not an X-Men character… my name is not Jean Grey and I cannot read your mind.I do not have access to Cerebro. (For reference to this reference, watch anything where Hugh Jackman has his shirt off and has knives coming out of his knuckles even if you hate the movie just fast forward to the parts were Hugh has his shirt off, you will thank me later) if I did we would not have this problem.
If you’re a talker, orate something if you use ASL sign it out, if you’re not good with words send me a text made up of emojis or go all Last of the Mohicans and send me a freaking smoke signals I don’t care, QUIET DOES NOT LET ME KNOW THAT YOU LIKE ME!!!
The following week my good male friend and I(Yes, just a friend I’ve known him since I was a kid there is a friend, no benefits…that’s just ….ew) go to a club where we know the people and our friend worked.
I let her know I’m on my way. As we enter she tells me that the doctor is in and would like my presence at his table that night. I don’t see any harm in being friendly and go over to he and his friends. I’m welcomed and he acts all gentleman like, offering me a seat when his friends are clueless and just let me stand whilst speaking to me.
He goes all out thanking me for helping his brother when something happened on our first meeting, insists that anything and everything I want is on him. Which is nice but I didn’t ask for anything so I still snuck away to buy my own drink because I can. The gesture is nice but I helped because he needed it, not because his brother would buy me drinks. (He seems so nice right now doesn’t he, aaah yes ignorance is bliss.)
As the night progresses he and I get very close, on the dance floor, off the dance floor the whole toot and at one stage we’re holding hands and nuzzling.
My friends told me this afterwards because I was a little… how should I put this…..fragile so some of the details are a bit fuzzy. If only I could insert a laughing cry emoji right now I would. Ok ,people of the palace,this is where things start to get a little douche bag like.
He starts to have a few drinks, I notice the more he drinks the easier it is for him so speak to me but instead of engaging me in friendly conversation I was met with this. ‘” You are such a lady, I can see that you’re not like most money hungry females out there but please understand I will buy you whatever you want I have access to unlimited funds just tell me what you want, anything any time I will buy it for you. You know I just bought a car for a million rand, but there was a problem accessing my cash and my uncle gave me the money, the next day I deposited the entire amount back in his account. You will want for nothing I will always look after you, do you like bikes I have two I’m getting another one soon” .I shit you not, this is verbatim.
This went on for longer than I’d have likes and the more I told him I don’t care about his money the more he kept assuring me that he had Rockefeller money.( Like that’s nice but, who you iiiis though?)
At one point in his very one sided conversation I turned to his friends and asked if they could shut him up about his money as I wished to know about him and not about what I could only imagine was bags of moola just strewn across his house ready to for him to brag about. (He did not notice or listen when I asked him to stop talking about his money, he smiled and continued)
They looked at me fully stunned as if I was the first woman to ask him to shut up about his cash, all the while he kept droning on about how I should call him and no matter what it is I need or want he will get it for me because there is no limit to the amount of money he has access to (Douchy right?)
He keeps on talking about money and repeatedly asks me what I want …I was so irritated I gave him the evil eye and said a house in the Swiss Alps which shut him up because though he has a lot of money he does not have Swiss Alps money. (Rockerfeller ,my ass)
I excuse myself from the situation and head to the dance floor. A few friends are already there and we’re grooving to the music when I feel a tug on my arm before I get pulled away rather roughly from the person I’m dancing with…yes you guessed it, Dr D himself. According to a friend of mine he saw me on the dance floor with a male friend, downed a triple gin while giving the guy I was dancing with a look of pure murder and made a bee line for me and subsequently dragged me away from the offending male…..jealous much?!?! (You’re starting to squint aren’t you…and yes, we’re on our way to creepy town)
His friends form a wall of impenetrable douchebags around us and at this time the only thing running through my head is that scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf the Grey screams “YOUSHALL NOT PASS” which nobody did, for the whole night.
I had my very own security service following me around. From bathroom to bar he was there but always playing it off like a gentleman. The rest of the evening is a bit fuzzy, the grape salad I ordered came in a glass or two or three…and it’s rude to send things back to the kitchen so I took one for the team and finished the bottle…(don’t judge, I see you judging)
What I do remember though is that by the end of the night TWO things happened. 1: he asks me to join he and his friends for a show they have tickets to and 2, he drinks so much he starts throwing up in the ice bucket provided for his table and starts to cry….oh and he almost fought with a waitron in his drunken state because they wanted to cash up and asked who would be paying, Mr money bags got incredibly defensive and started raising his voice talking about, “Don’t they think I can pay huh, do they know how much money I have, do they know who I am” Everyone in his party stood up to try and calm him down and he would not until I tugged his arm and he immediately stopped and then pulled out his wallet to give to me.. (Douchebag)
Because the invitation to the show was done in a half inebriated state I thought nothing of it really, but it came through. I received a text a day later asking me if I would join the friends to go to the show which I accepted and asked when I should meet them.
He insisted that he pick me up and take me home, after an exchange of, I can get myself there no sweat, and it seemed rather evident that he REALLY wanted to pick me up so I complied. The allotted time comes and I’m ready and waiting when I hear the rev of a huge car engine outside my house…My first thought, ÿeah he brought the million rand car to show off.
PEOPLE I WAS RIGHT!!, outside my house stood this shiny two door sports car that make most men cream their pants just looking at it. I mean the thought is nice and all but did our previous meeting not get you to understand that money is not how you impress me!!!!
In the car are his best friend and my female friend, I think nothing of it as we trudge along to the show. Ten minutes before we reach our destination he says nonchalantly that he no longer feels like sitting on the chairs thereand would like to rather go and get some coffee.
Also everyone else cancelled, he tells me this after my repeated questions about the rest of the party fall upon deaf ears (My spidey sense is tingling)…
Did i just get duped in to a double date, nooo I couldn’t have, like this doesn’t happen in real life right, this is some Hollywood Punk’d isht isn’t ? Sadly not. He duped me in to a double date. (Deer meet headlights)
Naturally we went to some lavish place for him to show off. It would have been great if only he was able to speak to me instead of sitting tight lipped for most of the time we were there. He stared at me, he shyly smiled at me and spoke to his friend about money, soccer, how he took no nonsense from people who worked under him and my absurd idea about going to a music festival, why I should eat more and get an iphone and use his music service and start doing this and that and so on and so forth and more about the absurdity of my like of music festivals which is stupid.
That my taste in music should be changed and I should listen more to what he listens to, all the while not really speaking to me but about me to the rest of the people there. Flashing his super expensive watch in my direction every few minutes so I would notice and ask or compliment on it and when I did not he shoved the metal timepiece under my nose to show me what the doodads were (Like I give a fuck)…(like seriously who is you?)
This man spent the entire time that I knew him showing off what he had and not once did he try and get to know me on a more personal level. His chivalry confused me, I didn’t know if he was a shy gentleman or just an undecided douche bag. In the end it was decided – OMWM was it decided!
Who tricks a woman in to a date?!?!?! Is this an everyday thing, why can’t you speak to me properly without being tipsy, do I intimidate you or should I be intimidated by you, have I stepped in to the twilight zone? What the actual fuck is going on right now?!?!
I DRESSED UP EXTRA CUTE FOR THIS. I DID MY HAIR FOR THIS DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG MY HAIR IS!!!!!!
Right now as I’m typing this out I’m still confused…..I really think I got Punk’d – maybe Ashton Kutcher lost his way and forgot to tell me it was all a big joke because that is what it feels like….
There is so much more like how his friends aren’t allowed to swear near me or compliment me or sit near me or THERE IS JUST TOO MUCH…….safe to say, boy was a douche bag in doctor’s clothing with a shitty bedside manner and I still can’t believe that I was duped in to a double date(DOES THIS LOOK LIKE HIGH SCHOOL?) …..Oh and also DOUCHE BAG MUCH!!!!!
Kids, in the autumn of 2017, I was having a very bad week of adulting.
As in epic, end-of-the-world bad… not only did I get swindled out of A LOT of money by Gumtree scammers (the buggers ran off with the mobile phone I was selling after sending me a very real looking bank deposit sms) leaving me super broke, but I was battling a cold that wouldn’t go away and I had a massive fight with someone close to me that there seemed to be no way of coming back from.
Life sucked. Being single sucked.
And just when I started feeling like none of these things would have happened if I had had a boyfriend or a husband, I ran, and beat my personal best in my second Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon run:
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I shaved more than 10 minutes off of my previous run and the act alone made me realise two things:
I am capable of doing some epic f***ing shit when I put my mind to it:
Sure, I’d lagged behind in training over the past few months before the the race but in just one year, I’d come so far. I was a runner: I got up early for races, I trained, I wrote about this physically challenging pursuit and I f***ing did it.
Running and the determination to do it well, the dedication to that pursuit had spilled over into other elements of my life.
Hadn’t I just returned from a solo trip to New York where all I’d had was my wits to see me through? Didn’t I just win a major magical career award for my love and dedication to the magical arts? I was more than capable of exceptional feats!
I am stronger than I know:
Yes, some crooks had done me wrong and my first instinct was to look for validation and comfort from someone else.
But, as I had proven over and over before, I was stronger than I gave myself credit for.
These terrible things could have happened to me even if I was in a relationship and all that the other person would have been able to do was dry my tears. It would still have been up to me to fix my shit.
Being single doesn’t mean being helpless. It takes courage to be alone ( but not lonely) and protect yourself, make the tough decisions and stand up for yourself, even if the people who should be supporting you, reject you.
On this insane road of life, there is you and the miles ahead of you. How you get to the end is up to you.
This, Guys and Girls , is my first forage in to the world of blogging about my life ’cause this shit is real and somebody has to hear about it…. The voices in my head can only do so much before they start turning on one another.
First and foremost, call me Lilu. It’s short and somewhat cute, just like me. Back in 2017, I’m a 31-year-old woman who has been single on and off for two years now and man, have I seen some M Nightshamalamadingdong crazy out there.
I’m not your typical single woman of what people discern as a “Certain Age”. Yeah, Bitch, it’s called 31 and although I don’t eat this fast food – the slogan fits ‘Mmm, I’m lovin it” cue Justin Timberlake intro…I wish.
And as always, I’ve gone off track. What I was trying to say is I’m not looking for a guy to marry, I’m looking for a partner.
I need a good relationship before I can think of marrying anyone because some of these men out there are like Freys at the Red Wedding…if you did not catch that…Child, you need to watch some Game of Thrones.
What I mean is I’m not desperate or constantly looking at who’s eligible.I don’t go out with the purpose to just meet a man so that I can have this Jerry McGuire-you-complete me-moment.
Don’t get me wrong :I was that for a hot minute. I believed this perfect moment would come and the sparks would fly and we would fly off to our castle on a magic carpet ride…. I dreamed of a Ferrari but got a Uno fire with a very good paint job.
After being in a long-term relationship where I thought I was happy and safe in this bubble of codependency and comfortable silence (in the wrong way I might add), I both revered and feared singledom.
I kind of knew I needed to get out but I was afraid to no longer have the label of girlfriend so I stayed in an unhappy and more importantly unhealthy relationship much longer than I should have. When I finally plucked up the courage and walked away it was the most terrifying thing I had ever done so far in my short life (no pun intended).
I went through every stage of grief you could go through because I lost a part of me that had always been there …well to me,anyway. I lost what I had come to know as home and all I could see was the loss of what was and not the potential of what could be……and oh.what potential turned out to be.
There have been tears, laughs, denials, super idiotic choices to please somebody because I wanted their approval. There have been friendships found and lost, family gained and what was shattered shards of myself put back together again.
Not in the way I was before, in a different kind of way, not better or worse just differently, stronger, better equipped to leave when a situation is bad and more confident to let someone know I like them when I do because ain’t nobody got time for high school yes , no and maybe games.
My stories are many, and the people in them a colorful array of crazy and fun, sometimes more Norman Bates-like crazy than I would like but hey, sometimes you gotta roll with the punches.
As I went through all of this and still go through the surprises that life brings me, there was one I was not ready for.
There is a difference between having life and living it and enjoying life and watching it pass you by. Once you start living it, there’s no going back..
Also…..why is Kale a thing like it’s nice and all but does it have to be everywhere??
Kids, as hard as I tried to avoid it, sometimes I unknowingly fell into the non-date trap and each time, I swore it would be the goddamn last!
Gather around and let me tell you about the loser who wasted my time in 2017…
Mr Church Spin Doctor was a 31-year-old good-looking guy, who worked as a communications officer for the Catholic Church. He’d travelled the world over and even lived in Japan for three years.
He loved reading and initially contacted me to trade favourite books and author stories. I liked his style because unlike the previous airheads/sex crazed online suitors, Mr Spin Doctor seemed to be worth talking to.
When he quickly moved to wanting to meet me, I was a little hesitant but he followed up with a “this is how I read people” track.
Now, and I f***ing stress this, he asked me out on a date, as evidenced from the below exchange:
To further stress my point, the Wkipedia dictionary definition of a date is as follows:
A first date is any type of initial meeting between two individuals, whether or not previously acquainted, where an effort is made to ask, plan, and organize some sort of social activity.
Then, who pays for said first date, is defined by UK.Match.Com as:
Fast forward to the agreed date (which he started with a big body melting hug) and things were progressing well at The Village Idiot in the City Centre.
We laughed and chatted a mile a minute about anything and everything over a few drinks: travels, family, Game of Thrones, comic books, movies and work.
I may not have felt an instantaneous convergence, as that previous non-date of mine pointed out pointed out, but I liked Mr Spin Doctor enough to consider a second date. Especially, considering that according to him, this was a first date, right?!
Somewhere between me excusing myself to go to the Ladies and coming back to the table, Jackass Deluxe decided that this wasn’t going anywhere and called for the bill.
Which he then looked at closely to calculate how much he owed (because, “Fazielah, I only brought enough for my own drinks and yeah, I drank the most”) and passed it over to me for my portion.
I refer you back to the definition of a date as above. May I also point out here that social etiquette dictates that when you invite someone out, you, the inviter are responsible for the payment of the bill?
I wasn’t so furious about the money ( because I always carry enough cash to pay for emergencies) as I was by the utter audacity of it. He explicitly called it a DATE , for f***’s sake and now he was pulling the “let’s go dutch” card???!!!
Hells to the f*** NO!
As if I wasn’t humiliated enough, the brother takes it up another notch by… wait for it… seeing me off with a wave!
A f***ing wave, guys!
Never mind the time I took out of my very busy schedule for this non-date, I’d dolled myself up in a dress and pantyhose.
Not to mention, when I realised I’d forgotten my make-up at home, I rushed back to my apartment after work to splash on some lipstick and mascara. I f***ing put effort into the this non-f***ing date and the jackass had the blatant nerve to stick me with the bill and send me off with a wave.
This shit, Kids, is why I was single for so goddamn long.
As I complained and bitched to my friends Yolisa ( who told me to ditch all the el cheapos and wait for someone worthy of me) and Lee-Anne ( who pointed out that this fool realised he wasn’t getting laid that night and therefore didn’t feel the need to pay for drinks) , I resolved that this would be the last bloody time I dressed up for a non-date.