Tag Archives: bridget jones cape town

How I Met Your Father: Cape Town’s Bridget Jones strikes again!

“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.

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Image credit: Pinterest

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.

Kill.Me.Now

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Image credit: http://www.teen,com

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!

that-would-be-great-yeah-so-if-the-ground-could-just-swallow-me-up-that-would-be-great
Image credit: Meme Generator

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.

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Why did the dating gods hate me so much?!!!