Tag Archives: How I Met Your Father

How I Met Your Father: the one with the indecent Valentine’s Day text

Kids, Valentine’s Day tends to bring out the downright nasty in Tinder daters. As the great Dothraki would say:

In 2019, things were no different.

David and I had swiped right on each other, prompting what I assumed would be a mutually respectful exchange.

I was wrong. SO wrong.

My granderfather passed notes to my grandmother via the factory secretary at the company they worked at in the 60s to let her know he was interested. My Dad wrote my mom “we’re going to have beautiful babies” messages in cute cards in the 80s.

What did my wanna-be suitor write to me as his first message? This:

You guys can guess what I did next, right?

As the wise Ariana Grande once sang:

How I Met Your Father: the one where I spilt my tea for a man

Kids, I was feeling Jet hard… and although I tried to believe Jennifer Paige when she said it was just a little :

… it didn’t help that he was obviously feeling the same way.

I mean the guy was calling me his girlfriend to coworkers; eagerly greeting me morning, noon and night; playing the perfect gentleman and attentive date by pulling out my chair, getting me drinks and engaging me in conversation at work functions; telling people he was bringing me as his date to after hours events; taking every chance he could to hang out at my desk and just generally being all up in my business.

How was I reacting to all of this wanton lusting and office flirtation, you ask?

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine…

Your momma once again invoked the spirit of literary and cinematic singleton Bridget Jones, because really, why even try being cool about a real life flesh and blood man ( and a younger one, at that!) being into me?

One afternoon, Jet was bounding down the staircase, as he was wont to do, off to save some IT crisis or other, and I, as I was wont to do, was watching him … drinking in the sight of him, feasting my eyes and all but drooling.

So much so, that I … spilt my tea all over my desk and my pants.

I was literally wet at the sight of him.

F*** me,ground, swallow me whole right NOW!

How I Met Your Father: the one where I fell in love with New York for the third time

It was a cold November night and I was wandering through Times Square, having just sobbed my eyes out at a spectacular performance of the hit Broadway show Dear Evan Hansen…

View this post on Instagram

Reader warning: this is a deeply personal post so please stop reading if you don't want to catch feelings… Have you ever walked out of a theatre show with eyes so puffy from crying and a heart both so light from finally being seen and yet so deeply touched that you are emotionally f***ing spent? That's how I feel/felt about @dearevanhansen on Thursday 😭 I was Evan in high school… f***,I was Evan last week. I've vibrated at a different frequency all of my life and I still spend every single godamn day trying to be normal,to engage with people like I should. Last week,it took every single ounce of my limited energy to get out of bed,go to work,be a passable good co-worker,daughter,sister,niece,cousin,godmother and friend and not let anyone see how bad the darkness was… I sobbed uncontrollably from the beginning of #dearevanhansen and really ugly cried for the final song and scene because it hit so close to home… it's like the writers and cast took what was inside of me and put it on stage. Evan's mom in So Big/So Small and her promise to be there whenever she needs him …for me that person is my best friend Lutfia. I don't always reach out when the darkness gets bad because I try to "get over it" by myself (it's wrapped up in my control issues and i am trying to get better at asking for help).When I do let her in, Lutfia helps to make all of my overwhelmingly big anxieties small enough for two to manage and I am so very thankful to and for her❤ Much has been said about this show's production quality and really,it is f***ing outstanding but for me,its true strength is its emotional relevance. Dear Evan Hansen was a two year must-see Broadway dream in the making for me and I am so utterly glad I got to see it. #youwillbefound

A post shared by Fazielah Williams (@fazielahwilliams) on

I stopped, twirled around in a circle and took in my surroundings. Still feeling emotional after my sobfest and raw in a way I hadn’t been for years , I had a profound realization.

I was home. Home once again and I was impossibly, utterly, deeply in love with New York City.

For the third time.

This trip, my first one to New York shared with someone I loved, your godmom Leonie, was hands down my best. I loved solo travel, and I would soon venture off on another trip by myself, but a shared experience brought with it a sense of happiness, comedic moments of getting lost, frustation at losing each other at busy events, transcendent moments at a magical theatre show unlike any other we’d seen, discovering new places and showing each other our favourite spots.

Sharing New York with someone who adored it as much as I do, possibly even more so, made me love it on a deeper level.

Even if I never returned to the Big Apple in my life (Gods, I hope not! I still wanted to live my best upcoming writer and Brooklyn-living mom life there!), I was content to have loved this beautiful city and be a part of it at least thrice in my life.

To have arrived and known I was home.

I love you, New York City. Always.

How I Met Your Father: 3 dating resolutions for 2019

Kids, in January 2019, I was about 13 months away from having you and I realised that while 2018 had been a year of learning and growing dating-wise, I had no time to f*** around anymore and I had to get serious about finding your Dad.

I knew he wasn’t going to just drop out of the sky like a romantic male Mary Poppins so I was going to have put in some hard work.

Things were progressing quite nicely with Jet , but it wasn’t a sure thing and I had to make some dating resolutions for the New Year:

  1. No more messing around with f*** boys: those late night “I missed you tonight” texts, unexpected phone calls to “catch-up”; the ol’ “my friend can’t make it, will you go with me to xxx” last minute invitations and the “send me photos of what you are up to” requests bullshit would no longer be tolerated in 2019. Either step up , ask me out and tell me how you feel about me or please f*** off from whence you came, Sir!
  2. Out with the apps, in with the IRL dates: Tinder, OkCupid, Datingbuzz and Bumble had given me MORE than my fair share of shitty online dating experiences in 2018 and the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. In 2019, I was going to give my thumbs a break from swiping left or right and let my eyes and charming pick-up lines work their magic… mostly. You guys know how I have no game but a girl had to try.
  3. Live a lot: with just over a year until I would have you, I realised there was a SHIT TON of things I wanted to do , that wouldn’t be as easy with a baby onboard. No offence, my loves. I drew up a list of 100 things I wanted to do before becoming a mom ( which I will share with you soon) and invited friends and family along to help me do them. From day train trips to another town to spending a weekend at a wildlife reserve and having another beach resort holiday to exploring more of Europe, I wanted to do it all. I couldn’t be a great mom and life partner if I wasn’t fulfilled and had lived a lot so it was time to do it.

2019 was the year things changed, Kids… and it really was spectacular!

How I Met Your Father: A PSA to men who have no idea of how to talk to women PT2

Kids, you remember the jackass coworker who had the bloody nerve to yell at me about when I was going to get married, back in the winter of 2018?

Image credit: http://ukdaynews.biz

Well, in December 2018, Mr Asshole was at it again…

“Fazielah”, he said as he tapped my shoulder and got way too far up in my personal space for my liking, “I said, your naughty Santa’s Elf costume is only a quarter complete with that hat. Where’s the short, sexy mini skirt and hot red high heels?”

Now, Kids, please take a minute to appreciate the fact that I, in no way at all, was being overtly sexual in my demeanour or dress style at this point – not that it should matter,because however a woman dresses or acts,she is not asking to be sexually harrassed,ever.

I quite literally was wearing workman’s jeans, a standard work issue t-shirt, hiker boots and the afore-mentioned hat and unlike a nurse or fireman’s costume, my mountain clothing wasn’t a f*** sexy.

His comment made me see red.

Me, too f***ing outraged and surprised that once again this motherf***ing ass of a married man who clearly did not realise we were living in the age of the #MeToo movement, would be this f***ing oblivious and
chauvinistic: “Uhm, well, that kind of attire wouldn’t be appropriate for the mountain.”

Prize Jerk Nr 1 laughed and walked away, leaving me feeling like I had just let myself and the entire female population of the world and generations to come down.

Why the f*** were men still getting away with this kind of bullshit?

I understand that decades of the naughty Santa’s elf imagery has saturated mainstream media and given rise to countless fantasies and role play scenarios but for the love of the gods, most f***ing people keep that shit to themselves, their partners and their bedrooms.

Married men, sure as shit, shouldn’t be saying kak like that to single women, or any woman for that matter, at all and utterly unprovoked!

It would take me a while to work up the courage to confront this world-class f***er about his inappropriate banter but I sure as f*** would.

Here’s what I did want to say to him and all men like him, though:

“Listen, you arrogant d*** … just because I was trying to be a good sport and get into the spirit of Christmas with a hat doesn’t give you the right to ignore all professional and personal boundaries and spew lecherous shit at me whenever you see fit!

I reserve the right to wear what I want, when I want to and to not have you comment on it. I f***ing love Christmas, I love Santa and by the gods, I wish I could be an elf but I do not dress up for you or your f***ing base pleasure. Take your dirty mind and go play dress up with your wife. Leave me the f*** alone!”

How I Met Your Father: the one with the #TinderFail PT 2

Kids, in the summer of 2018, I was taking a bit of a break from Tinder while I saw where things would go with Jet. In the interest of online dating research, though, I turned to my friends for their hilarious #TinderFail stories.

tinder fail
Image credit: Ranker.com

Faye had been chatting to *Greg*, a 39-year-old lonely boy on and off since March, consoling him when he claimed he wasn’t meeting any quality woman on the app and suggesting ways in which he could improve his conversational skills to help me with the ladies.

Fastforward to December and Greg was once again bemoaning how lonely – and for the first time- how horny he was.

At this point, Faye, exasperated at this man child’s inability or willingness to help himself, suggested he hire an escort to help with his needs.

Silence from Greg until…

He texted her to tell her he was, uh, getting himself off to her messages while she was online with him.

Uhm… motherf***ker, WHAT?!

Image credit: tenor

There had literally been NO sexy exchanges of any kind in the conversation leading up to this. Faye had been telling him gently to get off his f***ing ass and do something about his loneliness and he took it to mean he had to give himself a happy ending WHILE talking to her.

Why, why are men like this?!!!

How I Met Your Father: the one where I have no game PT2

Kids, as we have previously established, your mama has no game with the opposite sex.

Image credit: Reddit

In 2018, I am sad to say, things had not changed.

For all my protests about not shitting where you eat, I found myself with a workplace crush.

It had all started innocently enough… Jet would borrow a pen from me, leaning over my shoulder and getting all up into my personal space when there were plenty of pens lying on other desks closer to him.

Hello Captain Obvious:

Image credit: Tenor

A month later, after I arrived back from New York,Jet got a little bolder, especially after your Aunt Anthea made enquiries about his socializing preferences, knowing I had a predilection for cute, awkward  men.

Suddenly, he was greeting me enthusiastically every day, giving me birthday hugs, telling co-workers that his “girlfriend Fazielah” had invited him to a social night out  (I had done no such thing – I could barely get out Good Morning when speaking to him- how the f*** was I issuing invitations, let alone being called his girlfriend?!).

December 2018…

Was I flattered by this unexpected attention? Of course I was.

I decided I couldn’t let the young Jet do all of the work – I was an independent woman of the 21st century, for f***’s sake!

So…

One morning, as Jet zoomed by and up the staircase to his office, I shouted a very loud “HI!” at him.

Image credit: me.me

Smooth, Williams, real smooth.

Jet, confused at first as to whether I was actually yelling at him or just talking to all of the mountain ghosts, stopped and then said “Goeie More!” in reply.

I hadn’t thought about what would happen after that so…

I hid under my desk.

And stayed there for a good 15 minutes until I was sure he was gone.

Image credit: Tenor

Yes, really…

This, this is why I shouldn’t be allowed out into the dating world. I suck at flirting, goddammit!

How I Met Your Father: the one with the love advice from a sage Uber driver

Image credit: Tenor

“You will find the missing piece of your puzzle … just  walk with God and believe in it”

Kids, it was a Saturday night in November 2018 and my Uber driver Jean-Pierre was doling out love advice as we zipped from the Cape Flats to the City Bowl.

He’d just picked me up from your Aunt Anthea’s birthday bash and commented on how he’d sensed I had a good aura from the moment I’d walked towards his car, just like the one he’d sensed from his wife when he met her 20 years ago.

Me, rolling my eyes because come on, Mister, it’s 11pm at night and I am too tired and old for this mystical shit: ” Come on, JP! I bet you say that to all of your female passengers.”

JP: “No, I am serious! When I met my wife, she had this beautiful aura, the same one you have, and I knew I’d met the missing piece of my puzzle. I told her then and there: “I am going to make you my wife” and two years later, I did and put her in my house.”

Kids, since your Grandpa had said something similar to your Nan when he met her and your Aunt Sam and I exist because of it, I was inclined to believe JP… just a little bit.

Me: “Ok, JP, since my Mom and Dad have a similar story,I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here. But tell me some more about your puzzle piece.. are you still with your wife? Do you have children? Is this relationship everything you could have hoped for and more?”

JP: “We have been married for 20 years and there have been good, bad and incredible times. We have four daughters – three teenagers and a toddler. It’s been more than I could have dreamt about. And it’s all been possible with the help of God.”

Look, you guys know my relationship with religion is sketchy at the best of times and I was really having trouble believing that finding your father, the love of my life, my forever travel buddy and my life partner was as easy as asking a Higher Power for him. 

Over the course of our forty minute drive, JP was slowly convincing me to at least think about being open to the possiblity of it.

JP: “Look, I can tell that you are a wonderful, kind and incredible woman. You’ll pick up many wrong pieces of the puzzle, trying to make them fit and they won’t. Those men are not for you… trust your intution when it tells you no. You will find your missing piece… just walk with God and believe in it.”

In all of my time using Uber, this was by far the most enjoyable ride and driver I’d ever had. I was actually quite sad when I had to say goodbye.

JP: “Ok, Lady with the lovely aura, this is your stop. Go now and pray. Believe that you will find your puzzle piece.”

And you know, Kids, for the first time in a really long time, I was ready to believe.

 

How I Met Your Father: the one where I ran away to New York AGAIN!

Kids, by now you know that when the going gets tough, I get going … to New York.

I’d done it in 2014 to find myself and in 2016 to grieve for your great-grandfather in peace. In 2018, I was doing it because a) your Spirit Mom Leonie was going to run the famous New York Marathon and b) there were a few adulty things that were weighing me down in Cape Town.

With just two months left of the year, 2018 had me going:

I’d been catfished twice, called a prude, been dumped in the middle of a date, caught feelings for someone I f***ing shouldn’t have ( and who was still f***ing with me by October), was grieving the potential loss of a huge part of my life and heart AND I was still NOWHERE near meeting your father and having you.

To say a legendary girls’trip with Leo in the city of our hearts was needed was a f***ing understatement!

I wanted you so badly, I’d allowed myself to get caught up in an impossible situationship that ,from the outside, and possibly my imagination, seemed like my own rom-com come true … but the asshat who’d been the unlikely Prince Charming quickly turned into the villain and I was once again back to square one.

I was tired, Kids. I was emotionally f***ing spent. Being around my very romantically successful family physically f***ung hurt and I couldn’t bear family gatherings. I loved them and I was happy for them but I couldn’t be around them.

I was falling apart in the inbetween – in the times when I was alone and no one could see my bleeding emotional wounds.

I was reminded of that popular saying:

It was time to reset myself and let New York heal me.

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

Kids,  as you know, I was the living Capetonian embodiment of literary heroine Bridget Jones … over the course of my 20s and 30s, I’d managed to lose my bikini top in public, exposed my considerable buttocks to shocked New Yorkers and got a label stuck in my hair whilst spending a night in the company of a crush.

I really wish I could tell you I’d overcome these embarrassing moments in 2018 but alas…

Here are two times I wish I’d stayed at home downing a bottle of champers and sang along along morosely to Celine Dion instead:

cape town bridget jones
Image credit: http://www.prevenzione-salute.it

The pre-non date vodka spill:

The one I caught feelings for had invited me out to a show and dinner and I was nervous as f***.

Technically, I should not have been spending any f***ing time with him alone, I know, but look, my heart and flesh were weak, ok? Quit judging me!

On your aunt Lee-Anne‘s suggestion that I have a shot of Dutch courage to calm the f*** down, I set off to down the last of the left over vodka in my fridge … but I didn’t have a shot glass.

What’s a desperate girl who refuses to drink directly from the bottle to do in these dire circumstances?

Why, pour a shot in a Benylin medicine cap, of course.

Yes, really…

And of course, OF COURSE, because I was utterly f***ing nervous and shaking like a druggie needing her next f***ing fix, I half-missed my mouth and poured most of the goddamn drink down one side of my neck and onto my dress.

NOOOOOOO…..

Me, on a call with your aunt Lee, shortly after this monumental disaster:

“Lee! LEE! For f***’s sake, help me! Does vodka smell?”

Lee, after laughing at me for a full five minutes (because she is SUCH a great friend): “No, dumb ass. Relax. Wash it off, spray some perfume and chill the f*** out!”

Not that the half shot helped plenty because the non-date confused the f*** out of me even further but hey, at least Lee had a good chuckle, right?

Sigh..

The holey-moley work day:

I’d been going from meeting to meeting all morning, wowing my co-workers with my epic ideas and generally thinking I was the shit when…

I got to the restroom to pay homage to Mother Nature and pulled down my tights, only to realise there was a hole the size of my bloody fist in it!

Since I very rarely sit like a lady, I’d most certainly been flashing all and f***ing sundry all day long.

Sweet Mother of Dragons, could my inner Bridget Jones please f*** off?!!