Category Archives: Love

How I Met Your Father: The Speed dating Wars Part 2

“So, you like the theatre, huh? Tell me, have you been to the Labia Theatre?” he said with a sleazy smile and raised eyebrow and my skin literally crawled…

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Kids, in the winter of 2015, I found myself at my first speed dating event in six months and wishing for the love of the gods, I wasn’t.

Between Mr Bald-Headed, a heavily tattooed mechanic whose only knowledge of the arts extended to a naughtily named cinema and the clearly closeted gentleman to whom the very idea of conceiving children was “a needless, messy business”, I was stuck between a rock and a very hard place, wondering why I’d once again exposed myself to this humiliating experience.

The last guy seemed like he might be more interesting – clad in a leather jacket, longish hair and a warm, welcoming smile as I sat down – I was sure that maybe my luck for the evening had finally changed.

Boy, was I wrong!

I made the colossal mistake of asking what he does for a living. Turns out Mr Bad Boy is a stock broker and spent all of the short, precious five minutes we had together explaining the finer details of his job… It took all I had not to fall asleep or keeping firing off “save me!” looks to my friend Benni, who had bravely attended the event with me ( her first ever speed dating event!).

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Thank the gods the bell rung soon thereafter, signalling the end of our torturous “date” and the end of the event, freeing Benni and I up to chat to some of the other ladies , who were as disappointed as we were at the lack of quality male folk.

As we chatted over drinks, sharing online dating and set-up horror stories, we struck up a quick friendship and started making plans for group outings/dates to explore the Mother City and the greater Western Cape. More than anything, bonding with a group of women who were having the same dating woes as I was gave me hope – I wasn’t alone on this crazy adventure, and I had back-up. Everything was going to be ok…

Whoever said we didn’t get lucky that night, huh? 😉

Next time on How I Met Your Father: Silence of the Interfering Lambs – how to get meddling family members and neighbours to shut up.

How I Met Your Father: Doing the wrong thing is actually the right thing to do

Hey Kids, it’s “the drunk one” again. Due to the vision of movie rights, book sales and TV scripts (not to forget, pressure from your mother and your cool and wise aunt Leo) I have decided to share my experiences again.

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You won’t believe this (neither do I) but there is a show on MTV called Friendzone. Ya, a show about people that are in the friend zone and want to get out, so that they can be in relationships. Oh, friend zone is when a male and a female are really good friends (most cases best friends) and they would NOT have sexual relations of any kind together. Everything else they do, for instance, share deep and dark stories, goofy moments, watch the same shows together, be a wing man/wing woman, etc.

I watched about two hours of Friendzone (I woke up drunk and could not get back to sleep) and I realised a couple of things. Americans are crazy, MTV has a bias for attractive women (not that I’m complaining) and this show was setup for failure. Basically the message was “what the heart wants….”, “if it feels right you should go for it”, “let the other person know how you feel”, “emotions are a bitch”, “friends can become/have more”, and “being in the friend zone sucks”.

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What’s about to happen is going to be strange but work with me here. I’m not going to talk about being in the friend zone and wanting out, that’s a story for another time. Probably more of a rant as opposed to a story. Anyway, the notion of “if it feels right you should go for it” stuck out to me. As Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest) eloquently said, “I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by.”

I had a crush on this girl for the longest time. Probably still have a crush but the craziest thing is, I should have said/done something from Day 1. Hypothetical situation – things would have worked out and I should be proposing very soon. I swear! She’s perfect in every possible way. Beautiful, smart, hardworking, takes no bullshit, knows what she wants, she ticks all the boxes and boxes that don’t exist. If I could marry her today, I would. I would even put down the bottle for her, climb a mountain and dig up a spring. I would start World War III for her.

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I could only see her in a crowded room and we always smiled. Why I smiled? I don’t know, I guess that’s the effect she had on me. The world didn’t exist when I was with her, it was just a blur that surrounded God’s gift to me. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen (I had to tell her…. Once! Over social media and after a couple of beers. Ya, I’m that useless).

But here’s my story. I couldn’t do the right thing because I enjoyed doing the wrong thing. Doing the wrong thing became doing the right thing and doing the right thing was actually doing the wrong thing. It’s crazy! Every year I would say “maybe I should try telling her how I feel”, but then one night with the boys and a short skirt later, I would reconsider that thought. It’s not like there was anything wrong with her. There was nothing wrong with her. I just loved the streets too much and I wasn’t about to put the bottle down, stop chasing short skirts or ignoring the late night WhatsApps that say “are you awake?” I couldn’t do it. I tried! I tried leaving the streets but each time I came close, another short skirt would walk past me and smile. It was only polite for me to ask where she was going.

I tried putting in an extra bit of effort a while back. I figured it was time to put down the bottle, stop chasing short skirts and to get this woman lying next to me out of my bed. She had over stayed her welcome and I needed to be serious. Well, at least try to be serious. I chatted to my overly extended crush, helped her out here and there (which meant I got to see her more). I was making very slow progress, which was cool. I was patient enough. The streets didn’t like that. Not one bit! There was something in the air that weekend. And the weekend after that. And the weekend after that. Three absolutely crazy weekends in a row which consisted of the boys, booze, blunt and booty. The streets were good to me. I couldn’t leave. Not just yet, I hadn’t finished roaming the streets, drinking like it was the World War or chasing the skirts. Not just yet. I was doing the wrong thing but also doing the right thing. See how crazy it is?

October 2011…

I think she liked me as well. She was always smiling when she saw me. I guess she was always happy to see this drunk. I was dating someone at the time (stop laughing) and I bumped into her whilst I was with my girlfriend in the streets. We all talked for a bit and I imagined myself on the other side of the conversation, holding my crush’s hand. Dick move, I know. As the goodbyes were being said, I expertly snuck in a joke that meant as we went our separate ways I could maintain eye contact with her and have a moment. It worked (Obviously. You think I don’t know how to create a moment in the streets? It’s my turf!) and we had a moment. The world was a blur, people didn’t exist, the engine of the cars were mute and it was just her and I. The way it should have been.

June 2015…

It was a chilly winter’s night and it was time to say goodbye. Her goodbye was for the moment, my goodbye was for a very long time. I was leaving Cape Town but I didn’t tell her. I couldn’t, I guess I was being hopeful that I’m leaving for a short time but the reality was, I’m leaving for a very long time. She waved at me through the window of her car with that smile that could start a World War. I waved back with a smile of sadness. She drove off and for the first time in my life, I actually watched a female leave. I’m used to saying bye, tapping her ass and smiling as if to say “you’ll be back.” As she drove closer to the T-junction, my smile faded. She indicated right, wanting to make the turn that would lead her home. She stopped at the junction and waited for her right of way.

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If this was a movie I would have run up to the car, the rain would have just come out of nowhere to set the mood right, and 50 metres would be made to look like 500 metres. But no, this was reality. The brake lights were well lit – this is how it ends, the right indicator was flashing periodically – maybe you should run and Cape Town will provide the rain. I took a deep breath as I watched her turn out of my life for the final time.

There are good guys out there in Cape Town. Depending on the female in question, I was a good guy. If you really break down that statement it will actually show I was NOT a good guy, but that’s a technicality. I have no regrets about the above situation. I was doing the right thing every single time. It can be argued “I wasn’t man enough” or “I wasn’t ready for a relationship” or “I’m a f***g idiot”. All valid points, but doing the wrong thing was in fact, doing the right thing. And I feel this happens to a lot of people on a daily basis, including on Friendzone. Sometimes you got to do the wrong thing for example, (this actually happened on Friendzone) John told Jane, his best friend, he likes her. Jane is Jake’s ex and Jake is John’s best friend. It gets crazier, all three of them live in the SAME APARTMENT (see why I say Americans are crazy?). John did the wrong thing which turned out to be the right thing because after 5 weeks, they’re still dating AND living in the same apartment. Only in America!

Don’t be afraid to do the wrong thing.

How I Met Your Father: The Work Hottie and why you shouldn’t s*** where you eat

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Kids, most people I know met and fell in love at work and some of them truly did live happily ever after but for every success story, there are also ugly-as-all hell tales of office romances gone awry.

At first glance, it makes sense that you’ll fall for a co-worker – you spend 8 to 10 hours in their company, you have shared interests (aka slagging off the boss from hell) and well, familiarity breeds chemistry, to paraphrase a popular quote.

How do I know this, you ask? Well, my loves, because I wasn’t above falling for my cubicle partner a time or two myself…

September 2007 …

Davis was a slender-framed, green herb smoking, alcohol-loving, sleeping-on-the-job PR writer at the TV station I worked at and for the better of my first two months at the company, I ignored his lazy butt.

The thing, though, is I have a weakness for the sensitive, artsy, sarcastic type and one email about some or other show lead to several others, which lead to some inappropriate flirting both online and in the office kitchen. Before you knew it, I was actually looking forward to going into the office everyday…

Since I was still scarred from my first run-in with Mr Heartbreak Guy, I was too shy to make the first move and so was Davis. It took us ages to start having secret lunches and walks together or to even admit there was something going on between us, much to our older co-worker’s dismay who would randomly shout out to Davis, across our open plan office after one too many longing stares; “Why don’t you just take her on your desk already?!”

Yes, I know, “Eeuwww, Mom!”

Anyway, as I was saying – it took us ages to get anywhere. Eventually, six months later, during one of our “lunches”, I decided to pull on my big girl panties by making my feelings known. Like any guy, though, if you talk feelings, they balk and I didn’t want that happening so I posed a hypothetical question to Davis in the form of “what would you say if I told you I am really, really, REALLY into you?”

After what seemed like the Ice Age had come and gone again, Davis eventually replied with a “Hypothetically speaking, I’d tell you that I really, really, REALLY like you too but I am a recovering addict and I don’t want to hurt you so we can’t happen. You deserve better.”

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Man, for even a hypothetical confession and rejection, that s*** stung for a good while and our secret lunches came to an abrupt end, along with the onset of glacial courtesies (What? I was 22-years-old, maturity wasn’t exactly my strong suit then!) and avoidance whenever possible. Meetings were fraught with tension, people vacated the kitchen as soon as one of us walked in after the other and our mutual work friends quickly learnt not to invite us to Friday day drinks together.

Two months later, Davis dropped the bomb that he was resigning. I was gutted because I still really liked him but also so bloody relieved because I’d since discovered it wasn’t the addiction issues keeping him from dating me – it was the IT bimbo he had been having a flirtation with for a year before I had started working at the company. Jerk!

To make a long story short, I walked Davis out of the building on his last day and of course, a long, sweet goodbye kiss for old times’ sake ensued … I may or may not have even shed some tears.

Which were wasted, because Davis’s new office was right next door, and so run-ins at the local Spar were inevitable.

What pissed me off more than anything was that he thought that now that he worked at different company, and had kissed me, all was forgiven and we would pick up where we’d left off.  Uh, how about hell no?!

More than once I’d run into him with the IT bimbo by his side, and the rejection would hit me all over again. I vowed to never, EVER let Cupid’s Arrow find me at work until …

August 2014…

Seven years later and I still hadn’t learnt my bloody lesson about mixing work with pleasure!

Kevin was the quintessential office jerk – major attitude with all of the ladies, mostly because he had tried and failed to chat them up or those he had succeeded with, had dumped him in less than a New York minute.

Now, and I am sure your dad has told you this,  I am a big flirt. If it helps me get things done faster, freebies, all of the chocolate I can devour etc, I will charm the pants off anything that moves. Your Uncle Tendai and Magical Wyrdo Godmother Leo say everything that comes out of my mouth sounds like a come-on and I am the female equivalent of Friends’ Joey ( I have yet to hear this myself, but I’ll take their word for it!)

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And for several months, in order to get my best work buddies and I access to all of Kevin’s series and movies, I flirted with him like there was no tomorrow.

Friends tried to feel him out, to see if he was interested in me too and for a while, things looked promising but then he got back together with his cheating ex and whilst my ego was bruised, I decided to focus on wrapping up my days at the company (I’d resigned and was off to bigger and better things). Gone were the “emergencies” I needed Mr Man to help me with and I stopped making frequent trips to the 12th floor. On my last day, I did slip Kevin my number and told him to call me when he was single again …

Fast forward to a month after I’d left, and Kevin and I found each other together in a club, a matchmaking scheme not-so-subtly arranged by your Uncle T.

There was dancing and drinking aplenty and sparks were flying like an Independence Day fireworks display… things were getting heated, fast. At some point, T disappeared, as did the other couple we were partying with and Kevin and I found ourselves alone.

The old “let’s get out of here” line was flung around and I was all for it, until we hit the sidewalk and I sobered up considerably.

“What are you doing, woman?” I thought to myself, “This man has a girlfriend and you deserve better than being a bed warmer for a former co-worker for one night. Go home now – ALONE!”

So, as much it pained both me and the sexy jackass, I left him standing on the sidewalk and off I went, much to my cab driver’s chagrin: “Really, lady? You’re going to leave your partner standing to attention in all of the intimate places like that?”

Cape Town cabbies really need to mind their own business ….

Who’s the boss?

I thought I was alone in this work romance quandary until a friend of mine told me her horror story. Alyssa worked at a thriving tourism attraction, rocking her creative style on campaigns and content when the MD of her company started paying “special” attention to her.

It started off small with them being mistaken as a couple at an industry event and him liking the sound of it too much, thereafter always referring to her as his “wife” at the office. Then came his overzealous interest in her social media and weekend activities, mentioning these things to her every opportunity he got. At one point, during an event, he called her “babes”… way out of line, dude.

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Alyssa was not responding to his advances because a) he wasn’t her type, b) he was married and c) he was her big boss, for gods ‘sake – it just wasn’t appropriate! The more she resisted him, the more he pursued her until eventually she left the company, thinking that would put an end to things.

Not f***ing likely!  Not only did he show up for her farewell lunch, which he’d never done for anyone else, he also kept up the inappropriate flirting when they’d run into each other at networking functions in the months that followed.

Things settled down when Alyssa made it clear she was involved with someone else and had absolutely no interest in her former MD – getting a rep as a homewrecker and a rising star who only got to the top by sleeping with the boss wasn’t something she wanted.

A lesson I took to heart and steered way clear of.

Besides, as you’ve probably guessed, your father was not my boss or my office hottie … the hunt continues!

How I Met Your Father: Confessions of Cape Town’s Bridget Jones

bridget-jones-644x362Kids, it pains me to tell you this but your mama is something of a class A klutz. Akin to romantic comedy heroine Bridget Jones, I get myself into all kinds of impossible, hilarious-for-other-people situations that I wish weren’t true but unfortunately are.

You’ve no doubt heard some of my more legendary mishaps from your father, your aunt and godparents but let me fill you in on a few of the highlights that make me want crawl under the covers and NEVER come out:

December 2013 …

My closest work friends and I had a ritual of Friday happy hour drinks at the hottest bars in Cape Town. One particular Friday in the heart of summer, on a whim, we headed out to Tjing Tjing in the City Centre.

Now, to set the scene, I was going through one of my “f*** the world, I’ll wear whatever I want cause I’m tired and cranky “ phases, and in forgetting it was Friday, I’d just slipped into my comfortable jeans and a hoody, and put my dirty hair up into a ponytail. SO not hot cocktails-and-meet-the-future-love-of-my-life look… alas!

Off to Tjing Tjing my friends and I went and after ordering our drinks, we realised that there were quite a few SA actors filling up the rooftop bar and the section we were in, was being cordoned off with a  rope and fancy snacks. Mildly surprised but still not suspecting anything, we nattered on about weekend plans, basking in the sunset and each other’s company until …

“Oh My God!” yelled the lovely Claudiskies, “That’s Orlando Bloom!”

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Yes, Kids, we’d unknowingly gate-crashed the cast party for Zulu, the locally filmed movie that the Hollywood hunk had been shooting in Cape Town for three months. F***!

Rapidly firing off a few texts to your godfather L to get his cute behind to the bar pronto, I sunk down into my chair, ridiculously excited that one of my former actor crushes was within spitting distance of me and horribly mortified that I hadn’t bothered to dress up that day.

Repeating to myself over and over again: “Breathe, Faz, he probably won’t even notice you or your lacklustre appearance, Just breathe!” I patiently waited for Leon to arrive.

Of course, because this is my life, Murphy’s Law kicks in …

Not even ten minutes later, while the girls and I are nursing our drinks, the hunk who breathed life into Troy’s Paris and Lord of the Rings’ Legolas, saunters over to our area, manoeuvers himself into the tiny space between my friend Lucy’s chair and the snacks table with a beer in hands, while gazing down at me and smiling that sexy smile.

Bloody hell, World, swallow me whole right now …

Sure, the gorgeous Orlando looked like he could do with a good shower before I’d lay back and think of England for him, but damn, what a moment!

Since that day, I do not go anywhere without slapping on some lip gloss, eye liner and a suitable cute outfit – you never know what may happen.

May 2014 …

It had been one of those rom-com moments come to life when I had spent the night chatting to a seriously cute industry crush at a party in the Winelands.

We’d moved around the spacious venue, feasting and drinking, getting to know each other and laughing a lot until we ended up back at the desserts table. With my attention solely focused on my handsome companion, I didn’t see one of the other party goers sidle up to me from behind.

She interrupts our conversation and says: “Excuse me… you realise, of course, that you’ve been wandering about all night with a name tag sticker stuck in your hair, don’t you?”

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The ensuing silence was so deafening, you could hear a pin drop and my cheeks were on fire with embarrassment. Handsome Dude and I looked at each other for a split second, and I said: “Just pretend you didn’t see that!” He burst out laughing and I couldn’t help but join in.

Needless to say, I’ve avoided sticker name tags like the plague ever since!

February 2015…

Your Nan, aunts Sammy, Mishy, Rushda and I snuck into an exclusive residents ‘only beach on a hot summer’s day, knowing full well we shouldn’t be there but driven to do it anyway … what? Where did you think your rebel streak comes from, huh?

Anyway, after a picnic lunch, the girls and I braved the cold Atlantic water for a dip. By this time, the residing beach goers had joined in on the fun, and there were one or two hot hipsters amongst them.

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There I was, frolicking in the waves, doing my best Baywatch babe impression, when a strong wave tackled me from behind…

As I emerged from the water, I heard shouts of “Lady, cover up!” Wiping the salt water from my eyes, I remember thinking “Shame, someone’s lost their cossie”, only to look down and realise … I was the one sans bathing suit!

Yip, my halter neck one piece had ridden down to my tummy mid-wave and my pleasure pillows were on display for all of the beach folk to see. Gods Almighty!

I was soul-shattering mortified for a split-second and contemplated drowning myself but then remembered I still had to have you guys, so, like the trooper I am, I gaily blushed and apologised profusely before turning around and swimming to the other side of a big boulder.

Laugh and the world laughs with you, right?

Yes, I am a walking disaster magnet but these are the incidents that make for amazing stories and make life all the more colourful. Cést la vie!

Next week on How I Met Your Father: The Work Hottie and why you shouldn’t  s*** where you eat.

How I Met Your Father: The Married Friend’s Perspective

Hey spirit children – it’s me, your Auntie Leo, a.k.a. Lady Littlefinger-Mormont-Cumberbatch!

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This is perhaps a good time to weigh in on your mother’s adventures for a healthy dose of perspective, as well as sharing some sage advice.

At the time of writing this, your mom and I had been friends for about 18 months. We met when I had a short contract with the company she was working for, and we initially bonded over our mutual love of chocolate, magic and the embodiment of male perfection – Alexander Skarsgard. As the months rolled on, she introduced me to Beefcakes, and your drunk uncle Tendai and I introduced her to Game of Thrones, if memory serves me right. If you hear nicknames flying around, don’t judge us.

Rocking it House of Wyrd style at a Game of Thrones viewing in 2015!
Rocking it House of Wyrd style at a Game of Thrones viewing in 2015!

A word on your mom. It’s hard to see your parents’ awesomeness when you’re a moody teen with raging hormones.  So take it from me:  Your mother is without a doubt one of the most amazing people that walk this earth. She’s a kind and generous spirit who lives with passion, loves fiercely, supports unconditionally and allows her friends to let their freak flags fly without any judgement.

She’s a great catch for any man (or lady) who can keep up with her, so imagine my surprise when I discovered that she’s still single.

Or was I really that surprised?

You see, my dear spirit children, Cape Town may be the most beautiful city in all of the world, but it’s damn hard to find a man in the Mother City who ticks ALL of these non-negotiable boxes:

  • Good (as in, a good man, not “good at sports”)
  • Kind
  • Fun (as in, makes you laugh)
  • Financially secure (I’m not talking rich here; one simply reaches an age when spongers stop being sexy)
  • Mentally stable
  • Straight

How do I know it’s hard? Because I struggled to find a guy like that as a young and awesome singleton in the late 90s.

Those were the days before social media and online dating, so your only hope in hell was to join a church (hell NO), shag a work colleague, go clubbing – a LOT – or meet a guy through friends. In my case, I met your uncle W. on a blind date set up by mutual friends. And despite my much longer list of requirements (that also included career choices and physical characteristics), we hit it off and have been together for almost 17 years.

Today, the dating pool has become a bit polluted, I’m afraid. You have to work your way through the dazed and (sexually) confused, the psychos, the narcissists, the stalkers, the emotionally unstable, the wannabes, the crazies, the douchebags, the ones that are attached but pretend to be single / at the point of breaking up to give you hope…  And you have to work through this pool every single time you take a stab at love.

All in all, despite all the new romance platforms available to your mom, I’ve come to the conclusion that love is much harder to find these days.

So what’s a girl to do?

But the point of my story is not to make your mom depressed to the point of believing that she will never find love…

She will.  I know she will.

Because she’s awesome!

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And because she still has lots of time.

Right now my message to your mom is “DON’T PANIC! You will meet your baby daddy when you least expect it.”

My dad always used to say that (and I’m translating and paraphrasing here) love is like sudden-onset diarrhoea. It comes when you least expect it! Yeah, I know… not the most romantic vision of love, but I’ve come to find that it’s true.  I have friends who met their partners when they least expected to. Someone I know forgot about her blind date, remembered at the last minute, put her dirty hair in a ponytail and pulled on some jeans. Her blind date is now her husband and they have a beautiful baby.

All your mom needs to be is her own amazing self, and the right guy will follow.

My feeling? She’s going to meet Mr Right through the House of Wyrd (ask her about that), get chatting to him at a theatre bar or in the line at Free Comic Book Day. The universe works in mysterious ways…

That being said, I’m still holding out for the day when she bumps into Alexander Skarsgard in a random city on a random street (Alex, watch this space for when we’re in the US, OK?) and is finally united with her one true love J

How I Met Your Father: The Unavailable Man

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Kids, before I met your Dad, I spent a lot of time chasing or being pursued by the elusive, the unattainable and the unavailable man.

This is the guy who is attached in some or other form to another partner, but for some reason pays ardent attention to you. That attention takes many forms, whether face to face or online, but it always leads to the same thing: disappointment, and in some cases, heartbreak.

I wish I could tell you I was above being drawn into their deceitful webs, but here’s one of my harrowing Mr Unavailable tales:

February 2013 …

I met Scott totally by accident – my manager at the time asked me to take a meeting in her stead, because she had a more pressing matter to attend to. While I grudgingly agreed to it, upon laying eyes on the rugged-looking Scott, I was only too happy I had.

Handsome in that country boy way – all check shirt, rolled-up sleeves, dimples and scruffy beard – Scott was the SA personification of my current TV character crush, George Tucker of Hart of Dixie, at the time. My reaction upon seeing him for the first time was something that had only ever happened to me once before – my knees literally went weak and I had to hold onto the back of a chair to steady myself. I was swooning …HARD!

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It sounds like a Mills&Boons/ Fifty Shades description but I swear to the gods, old and new, it’s true…

Don’t ask me what was said during that meeting because I spent most of it unapologetically staring at him and fantasising while our colleagues negotiated a trade exchange deal … yes, I know, “TMI, Mom!”

Anyway, fast forward to a few months later, and Scott and I are in regular contact, exchanging content. You know how I’ve told you that people just randomly share personal things with me? It doesn’t just happen in person but electronically too – I got to know Scott pretty well – studies, favourites reading genres, things he likes to do to relax etc.

Conversations bordered on playful teasing and being flirtatious back and forth for a while and it took him several months to reveal he has a girlfriend. Sure, I was a little bummed about that because by then I had started to really like him, but it was a good thing too because it helped to set boundaries … or so I thought.

Over the next 18 months, Scott grew ever more flirtatious in his emails (one particular gem included him telling me he likes being at the top of my to-do list); popping by for coffee in person on the odd occasion he was in town (which is when I realised he wasn’t THAT hot) and actively stalked me on social media platforms. I couldn’t post a single photo or tweet without him liking and favouriting it in within seconds – and not just from his personal account but his business one too, as if I wouldn’t know it was him!

Calling him out on the online stalking proved useless as he just brushed it off as everyone being allowed to have a “creepy day” … dude, it’s more like having a creepy year!

But here’s the rub: once I calmed down about the stalker behaviour and started responding in kind, even going so far as to relax and be comfortable and flirtatious in his company (so sue me, being chased that hard boosted my ego!) when we attended industry events together; Scott suddenly went ice cold on me, and froze me out of his life, preferring to conduct business through his co-worker.

I was hurt, sure, and it made me feel crazy, like I had imagined the entire thing. I berated myself for weeks for flirting with a man who was spoken for and vowed to not have anything to do with him or his ilk ever again.

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April 2015 …

As someone wise once told me: “What you resist, persists”. Scott popped back onto my radar a few months later, asking for help promoting his new venture, back to his old flirtatious ways and you would think that I’d have told him to go jump off a cliff but… I’m human and susceptible to dimples, ok? I indulged his requests and tentatively flirted back for a while until…

Gods, Kids, let me tell you this: there is nothing as cruel and soul-crushing as opening your social media newsfeeds and coming across an engagement/pregnancy announcement … particularly those of people you have a murky romantic history with. As was the case with douchebag Scott – turns out the lovely girlfriend he so often tried to make me forget about, is making an honest man of him.

I was tempted to find the largest pool of Nutella around and drown my sorrows in it but f### it, he just ain’t worth it… NEXT!

somewhere out there

Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight … wait, this is NOT a Disney movie! What I’m trying to say is, your father, a good, trustworthy, loyal and most importantly, available man, was out there, just around the next date, email, meeting or event, making his way to me … all I needed to do was be patient.

Next time on How I Met Your Father: Faz puts Bridget Jones to shame with embarrassing moments …

How I Met Your Father: Tales from the Wingman

Kids, Wonder Woman has Batman and Superman watching her back during her superhero battles. Me, I have the best hero of them all :  Tendai, legendary blogger and epic wingman. Today, I’m letting him take over the storytelling ..

Hey Fazie’s kids. This is your drunk and fun uncle, Tendai. I figured I might as well tell you my side of this journey to the best of my memory. It turns out I’ve had too much fun over the years and my memory is a bit hazy. Just a bit! Stop laughing and go get me some of “daddy’s juice”.

2up9x1i

August 2013

I was an intern where your mother used to work. I was young and inexperienced, and let me not forget to mention how afraid I was of the women I used to work with. Ya, I was the only guy in my department. How that happened I don’t know but I’m glad it did. My time there, I learnt a lot about women. A lot! Topics included babies, contraceptives, food, and a lot of R-Rated conversations. I learnt a lot. Obviously not enough to give the men the secret to understanding women, but I did learn enough to improve my knowledge of women. I went from 5% worth of knowledge to 7%. Like all men, I failed to listen majority of the time. Yup, that’s right, men don’t listen majority of the time women talk.

I digress. I needed a break from being the most awesome intern the company had ever seen. So for my break I went to your mother’s desk and I forced her to procrastinate. We had a conversation about “28 dates before 28”. It sounded like a romantic comedy, one good enough to gross roughly $300 million easily. Never been done before and in my mind I saw an opportunity for a movie script or a TV show. I had $$$$ in my eyes and completely forgot what Fazie was telling me. The “typical man” kicked in. I zoned in and out of the conversation so I remember very little.

One night I was at a bar the topic came back to me and I thought about it even more. Fazie was to go on 28 dates before she turned 28 years old. Her birthday being in November that meant she had to go on 2 dates per week to make her goal. Did Cape Town have enough quality men for her to go on her dates? What would happen if she didn’t make it to 28 dates?

With a notion of 28 dates before 28 and her quest of wanting to find your daddy, I tried to put myself in her shoes. To try understand her more and to see how I could help. She was 27, prime, fun and the ultimate socialite. How does one tie her down? Could this work? Could she manage to find a bachelor that is worth her time, loves vampires and feed her chocolate in her time of need? It got very technical very fast so I finished my beer, sent a WhatsApp to a particular female and decided to go back to what I know, being a bachelor in the streets of Cape Town. “Hey, wanna come over?”

Back to the topic. I would occasionally get a status update from Fazie as to how her dates were going. It turns out she was slacking. “Too much work” or “not enough time” were some of her many excuses! I was baffled by this. You would think she would have found your father earlier. She did try but the men in Cape Town were not what I expected them to be.

Considering I was one of them at the time, it made sense as to why it wasn’t easy. I could only imagine her meeting me in the streets and hoping to settle down and have you guys. Ha! Her chances of finding your daddy dropped exponentially. Each time I wanted to help, I would get a WhatsApp saying “Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Sorry but I have to respond to this.

April 2014

Your mother is still single and my phone didn’t stop blowing up. I guess nothing had changed and unfortunately she didn’t make 28 dates before 28. Your mother did make an effort. All in her tales which I’m sure you’re enjoying. She has had some interesting encounters with the men of Cape Town. I had lost track as to how many dates she had been on but from what I saw, it may be a while before she finds her baby daddy.

You would think Cape Town had great guys, guys that she could go home to and cater to. It’s Cape Town, where are all the good guys at? Obviously we hang out at the same place. It takes an asshole to know an asshole. So I took it upon myself to be her wingman. It has been an interesting journey and I gotta be honest, it has been fun. No regrets but the one failure, I didn’t get your mother her man for the night.

Rocking the ultimate wingman duty on one of our crazy nights out!
Rocking the ultimate wingman duty on one of our crazy nights out!

The nights we had were memorable, from the guy she terrorised at work that we ended up partying with – I swear there was some “tension” of some sort between them, to a guy from Stellies that we met at a friend’s farewell who she deemed to be “too young for her”. Not to forget she actually dropped the ball on this one. She can be useless at seeing opportunities.  A lot of the times I wished I could go with her on her dates, pull up a chair and coach her as the date went by. I think even then she would still drop the ball.

Your mother is too much fun and she tends to light a fire in the loins of lesbians. Now that I think about it, she might as well find herself a lesbian. Who knows, it may work out for her.

Cape Town is an interesting city. Your mum’s inability to find a male suitor has been puzzling me for the longest time. The men are of a different nature. Nothing against the good guys out there but I’m starting to feel like the good guys don’t exist.

If there are guys like me out there, not afraid to be in the shadows or the confinements of their homes then your mother is in trouble. It’s guys like me that can be found anywhere in Cape Town and I can tell you, commitment doesn’t exist in our wiring.

We are found at every party, every function and even functions we don’t have an invite to. We liven the parties up, we chat up all the attractive women at the party and convince them to leave this party to go to another.

Basically make them leave their home ground and take them to ours. Once there, it’s almost a done deal. A couple of drinks, dance a little, flirt a lot then we have “our one hand on her thigh”. That means it’s nearly time to take her home, do what we know how to do best, then forget about her by 9am the following day.

Love does exist in Cape Town. Don’t get me wrong, it’s there. Somewhere! If guys like me can be found in the streets then love will only be in one direction. Cape Town has gorgeous women, it’s only right I have my one hand on as many thighs as possible.

How I Met Your Father: Girls ‘Night Out with Beefy Boys in Cape Town

beefcakes cover

Kids, while the search for your Dad continued to frustrate me endlessly, I often just needed to let my hair down with my friends while gazing at beautifully sculpted specimens of the opposite sex…

Luckily for me, Cape Town, the gorgeous people-loving Mother City, is home to Beefcakes, a 50s-style entertainment diner, overflowing with the best buns in town (both of the wheat and flesh variety!).

No doubt you’ve browsed through our family albums and seen some of the crazy pics of your godparents and I with the hunky masterpieces of perfection … there might or might not be a video or two floating around of us doing more than just touching their delectable torsos, but it’s probably best for you not to see them. I’m already spending a fortune on tuition, let’s not add astronomical therapy bills to the list too!

As I prepared to get all dolled up for  my umpteenth visit with your magical fairy godmother to our favourite pink palace of pleasure in the winter of 2015, I thought back to the time I took an unsuspecting suitor there for a first date…

March 2014 …

Khuma was a soft spoken Zambian-born IT administrator, looking for love and friends in Cape Town and was eager to meet me, having liked my quirky profile.

A weekend’s worth of texts back and forth had yielded no agreement as to a place to meet, until I hit upon the idea of meeting for a drink at Beefcakes, before I had to meet my friends for that evening’s dinner and drag show.

Being situated in De Waterkant, the Mother City’s Pink District, Beefcakes is renowned for catering to the female population and their fabulous gay best friends so understandably, Khuma wasn’t that eager to meet there:

Him: “You know that this is a gay bar, right?”

Me: “Yes, but plenty of straight men go there too with their partners. Besides Beefcakes has the best burgers in Cape Town. I know it’s unconventional for a date but its loads of fun.”

Him: “I don’t mind the venue but its smack bang in the middle of what is known as the gay district, I have no problem with gays and lesbians. I just don’t want to be called one and people said to frequent these gay bars are likely to be ripe for the picking.”

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At that comment, I lost my cool, Kids. Despite my unlucky romantic history, I am a huge supporter of the LGBT movement with both my and your godfathers being pink and proud. There was no way I could be with a partner who did not respect that and I told Khuma that if he had an issue with homosexuality and being seen at a pink venue, perhaps we needed to call it quits while we were ahead.

A tussle of convictions ensued and eventually we agreed to go ahead with the date.

I arrived early and as usual, the Beefcake waiters and barmen were only too happy to see me (have I mentioned that I visit my ridiculously hot boys at least once every few months and I always have the best table in the house?!).

Armed with a delicious Cosmo and the lavish attentions of the fellas, I told my waiter about my date and he immediately informed his sexy co-workers who agreed to keep an eye on me all night (and boy, did I love that!)

Khuma arrived, nervous naturally, but I did love his open, beautiful smile. After getting him a beer, we headed outside, away from the prying eyes of my friends who had arrived.

We chatted freely, laughed a lot and even managed to relax some, when our topless waiter (bless him!)  kept coming by to top up our drinks.

But … I didn’t feel any kind of spark with Khuma… and no, that’s not because we were surrounded by the hunkiest specimens of men known to God.

There was nothing physically, intellectually or spiritually wrong with Khuma – he was the sweetest guy I’d met and dated from the online dating site. I wasn’t comparing him to anyone else – I just wasn’t that into him.

As Khuma left for the night and we parted ways, agreeing to be friends, I realised that I was happy as I was… single, successful, blessed with amazing friends and free to indulge in the carnal pleasures of Beefcakes anytime I wanted to and that that was ok.

I’ll kick start the search for your father again soon but first, let your magical fairy godmother and I get our Beefcakes on! Cheers!

faz and leo beefcakes

How I Met Your Father: A Mother City run-in with my ultimate vampire

alexander-skarsgard-1_180178-1280x1024Kids, I’ve warned you about the dangers of stalkers and over eager potential suitors but now it’s time for your mother to make a confession of her own: I am not above doing the occasional, and I stress occasional, stalking or actively finding, as I like to call it, myself.

Especially when it comes to my one true television love… Alexander Skarsgard. Settle in, and let me tell you about my Mother City run-in with my ultimate vampire.

November 2013…

In the spring of 2013, the Internet was abuzz with the news that Cape Town had been chosen as the primary filming location for the movie adaptation of Lois Lowry’s The Giver novel.

Big name stars including Meryl Streep, Jeff Bridges and Katie Holmes had been signed to star in leading roles and then, the best news I had heard since Cadbury’s new Bubbly chocolate was announced: Alexander Skarsgard, Swedish sex god and star of the vampire TV series, True Blood, had been cast too and would join his co-stars in the Mother City!

KEEP CALM

F*** a zombie! Alexander aka Eric was coming to me…ok, well, Cape Town, but in my vicinity. It was like Christmas, my birthday, Eid and every public holiday all rolled into one, I was ecstatic!

To understand why I was so incredibly excited to see this Adonis, let me take you back a year …

January 2012 …

Knowing I had a predilection for blonde, blue-eyed men (the only good thing to come out of my heartbreak), your aunt Smurfette, my amazing co-worker and close friend, hands her True Blood series box set to me and says: “Fazi, this is all kinds of raunchy but there is a particularly hot tall, blonde vampire I think you may take a liking to. Try it out and let me know what you think, and I’ll bring the next season too.”

Gods almighty, if only she knew… not only did I take a liking to the devilishly handsome and blonde Alexander right away, he had me all hot and bothered in ways not safe for your young ears to hear right now.

I was so enamoured with the man, I watched those first few seasons back to back; re-watched Zoolander over and over again just for Alex’s two minute cameo as model Meekus, and downloaded every movie/series of his I could find.

He had effectively bumped my other European descendent love, Leonardo Di Caprio to second place on my wanna-be celeb baby daddy list and that took some doing – I’d been infatuated with Leo for nigh on 15 years. That kind of love doesn’t break easy…

cry-heartbreaking-leo-leonardo-dicaprio-wow-Favim.com-58666

Back to November 2013…

Having the good friends that I did, people were scouring hotels, online newsfeeds and calling up old contacts to help me locate my Viking until we hit pay dirt with a semi-solid rumour that some of the cast were staying at a prestigious hotel in the City Bowl.

While I anxiously swayed between wanting to rush over there to check if it was true and hiding away because what if it wasn’t true, your godfather had no such qualms and dragged our slightly inebriated butts over to the hotel one Sunday afternoon, following a day-drinking outing to the Winelands.

When an hour or two of “Oh My God, I think I just saw him!” yielded no results, L beckoned our waiter over and struck up a “mutually beneficial” relationship. Our new friend, Tom, would keep us informed of the cast’s whereabouts and we’d keep returning, plying him with good tips.
And thus began a week-long journey of showing up for cocktails and an update from Tom. Unfortunately, I was also running out of funds fast so, and it shames me to say this, I applied and got a credit card, to help me keep up with the stars at this fancy hotel.

Fast forward to the Friday and still there had been no sighting of my vampire. Your godfather and I popped by for one last cocktail and finally, received some good news from Tom: Alex had been around the last few days and liked having his drinks in the garden in the late afternoon. Success!

By this time, your aunt Sam was dying to join me on my “actively finding” mission, so she jumped at the chance to relieve your godfather of his wingstalker duties and we prepared for our next casual drop-by…

The next day…

Kids, that Saturday morning was one of those rare November beauties – filled with sunshine and the feeling that anything and everything was possible.

Much to your aunt’s chagrin, I wasn’t in a hurry to get to the hotel… after a week of near-misses, I somehow knew that if my Swedish lover and I were meant to see each other, we would and so I was ridiculously calm about the entire thing.

Later that afternoon, Sam and I pulled up at the posh hotel in the ever-faithful if somewhat cranky Mr W (rocking up in my beat-up car at impressive hotels was a favourite pastime for your aunt and me!), ready to tuck into lunch and play I spy with my little eye a hot blonde vampire.

Gods almighty, lunch in the gorgeous garden was an expensive affair (R 90 for a chicken mayo sandwich, are you kidding me?!). Poor Sammy was so nervous at the possibility of seeing Alex, she kept visiting the little girls’ room.

The afternoon wasn’t a total bust, though… your aunt and I had plenty of fun sunbathing, catching up and pretending we were rich. Sibling quality time is always a good thing, I hope I’ve imparted the importance of that to you, guys.

Anyway, back to the vampire hunting … when it became apparent at 4pm that the Tall One would not be making his grand entrance to proclaim his love for me, we got the bill and I talked Sam into taking a walk around the grounds before we left.

Man, am I glad I did!

As we rounded the pool area, your aunt suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “There he is!” she exclaimed, excitedly grabbing my arm.  My heart started racing a mile a minute and I couldn’t breathe.

“Are you sure?” I half whispered but Sam was barely listening as she walked on to get us a better view. And that’s when it happened, Kids…

Like a scene straight out of every romantic comedy ever conceived, time stood still and Alexander rose from his pool chair. My eyes raked his body from the feet up, drinking in the oh-so-glorious sight of him.

Droplets of water cascaded down his perfect abs; his pelvic bones were shown off to panty-wetting effect and not an ounce of fat anywhere. It was clear as day that there had been no photo shopping on True Blood, that’s for damn sure.

alexander water topless

As my eyes settled on his beautiful face, I realised with heart-thudding clarity that Alexander was looking at me too. And not just looking, Kids, I’m talking staring into my soul kind of looking. Looking at me like Eric would look at his prey before biting them or at Sookie before…well, biting her, and then, you know…

All too soon, the spell was broken and Alex looked over his shoulder, presumably for his bodyguards. Like a deer who just realised she’d escaped the lion, I grabbed Sam, who was rooted to the spot in front of me (she swears it’s because she was frightened for her life, he plays a vampire after all!) and ran for all that I was worth.

Running blindly, we made for the hotel’s spa and closed the door behind us. Fortunately the door had windows which overlooked the pool area and while the spa receptionist tried to get our attention, your aunt and I peeked out at the object of my affection.

Who now, seemed to want our attention as long as we didn’t come over and bother him. I kid you not, my loves … Alex took his time towelling off, before finding another pool chair and bringing it closer to the spa area. He then proceeded to oh-so-slowly lay down that gorgeous body of his onto the chair, pop in his ear phones and put on his sunglasses.

The message was clear: “You can look all you want, ladies. Just leave me alone.”

By now, both Sam and I were hyperventilating and we deliberated for the better part of 20 minutes about whether we should go over and ask him for a photograph. Ultimately, I decided not… the hotel has a policy of kicking people out who bother their VIP guests and, at the time, I was a city marketing official, I could get fired for trespassing.

I know, I know what you’re thinking – how could I go to all of that trouble of finding him and NOT approach Alexander.

Well, Kids, two reasons actually:

  • Ask your Dad what I’m like when I really, really, REALLY like someone. I have no game – I either can’t complete sentences or talk way too much because I am so nervous and awe-struck that someone that hot is talking to me and might like me too and I am such a klutz, I’ll walk into doors, fall up stairs or bang my head on things. It ain’t pretty … and if that is just what I am like with a normal guy, can you imagine what I’d be like in the presence of a bona-fide star?!
  • Seeing Alexander in the flesh was more than enough for me. No, seriously, Kids. I drank in the sight of him and he looked at me… Me, little ol’ ordinary me. How many girls get to say that they’ve been seen by their idol, huh?

That doesn’t mean I am not plotting to see him again soon … in fact, your magic fairy godmother, aunt S and I have some interesting Comic Con plans, but more about that later.

What I want you to take away from this tale is this:  Anything is possible, my loves. All you have to do is believe…

PS: Alex, if you are the father of my kids, we did good, babe, we did good xxx

How I Met Your Father: The Oversharer

oversharingKids, it’s both my curse and my blessing that I’m the type of person others find so trust-worthy and comfortable to be with, that they share their deepest, darkest secrets, and more often than not, the banalities of their lives with me.

And look, it’s one thing when it’s the sweet old man on the bus telling me all about the crazy things his grown daughters did as children and how he misses them because they no longer visit him but when it’s a potential date asking whether or not I mind if they don’t wash their hair before our date the next day … well, just quit with the oversharing already!

 May 2015…

Ray J 23 was a cute, aspiring chef completing a culinary degree and took a chance emailing me via the online dating site, because I was beautiful and even though I’d said I didn’t want to be contacted by anyone under 29, age is just a number, right?

I found Ray J’s approach really sweet and thought “well, why the heck not? Let’s give cradle robbing a try!” Cradle robbing is…uh… you know what, I’ll let your Dad explain that one to you.

Anyway, so there I was, having a cyber space flirtation with a delectable (or so I thought) chef-in-training, discussing dream dates, favourite meals, desirable partner traits etc for nearly a month when we agreed to a brunch date.

Since Ray J has exams, we’d have to wait until July but hey, what was a couple of months more when we already had so much to talk about and discover about each other, right?

July 2015…

Fast forward to the Monday before our date and Ray J suddenly started revealing all of these insecurities about our future – like what if the date went well and we started a relationship; would I be able to deal with his emotional issues and clearly I was looking to start a family, who’s to say he’d be able to provide that?

I took it all in my stride, even if I was a little freaked out by how much Ray J was end resulting and said it was just a f***ing date, no need to pick out a wedding venue yet or decide who your godparents would be, right? Just two people who might or might not like each other, meeting for coffee and Nutella banana croissants, so chill dude!

And that should have been the end of it until the date but the night before, Ray J texts me:

“Evening honey! So I really can’t wait to see you but I’ve had the flu for the past two days and due to all of the fever sweating, my hair isn’t right. Is it ok if I look crappy tomorrow?”

tmi

Wait, what?!!! Are you kidding me? What part of that text in any way sounds like it would be ok? Who the hell sends messages like this to people they want to date and/or get intimate with?

I’m all for honesty and communication but there is something like too much information. Add in all of the emotional insecurities and I could just flash-forward to years of being the caregiver and enabler for a serious hot mess.

Oh hell no! You, my darlings, and I deserve someone who has their crap together.

I politely told Ray J that maybe now was not the best time to start something when we were so obviously at different points in our lives and wished him well.

But it got me to thinking that maybe I was trying too hard to find your father… maybe what I needed was a dating break, some me time… and boy, did that lead to a couple of crazy adventures!

Next time on How I Met Your Father: Run-ins with my favourite vampire (who may or may not be your Dad).