Tag Archives: How I Met Your Father

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!

faz and Leo 2

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!

6-youre-awesome-puppy-dating-advice-help-me-find-love

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

Emotionally-unavailable-man-in-a-love-triangle

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!

SWOON

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.

unavailable man

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.”

oh-no-you-didnt-29

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).

How I Met Your Father: The Stalker Effect

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Kids, the journey to meeting your Dad was a long, often humorous, sometimes scary and exciting one. Although the 28 Dates challenge kept me busy, I somehow managed to find the time to rack up a stalker or two too…

New Year’s Eve 2013 …

Mr Winchester, my not-so-reliable Opel Corsa GSI and I were cruising along Main Road in Observatory, on our way to your Nan’s so that your aunt S could have him while I rang in 2014 with friends, when this red Corsa  and his driver kept following us and blowing his horn at us.

Naturally, we didn’t even give them a second glance because a) we were far too busy rocking our signature drive tune, Eye of the Tiger, at full blast and b) after the Prince of Egypt, I no longer looked or smiled or encouraged strangers in ANY way.

But Red Corsa’s driver was persistent and followed us all the way to Iman Haron Road in Claremont, catching my attention while we were stationary at a traffic light. “What?!” I asked somewhat tersely. “Your back wheel is about to fall off. Pull over and let me help you,” he responded.

I thought this guy was taking a fat chance so I waved him off and said I’ll have it looked at, and drove off but he proceeded to follow me all of the way to Rosemead Avenue and insisted I let him help me.

By now, I was seriously worried that something indeed was wrong with my back wheel and because I was an inexperienced driver and car owner, I followed the Red Corsa Driver into a side road, to let him take a look at it. Yes, I know, “Stranger Danger!” – What the heck was I thinking?!!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the driver turned out to be mechanic named Jeremy who just so happened to specialize in Opels, and considering the numerous issues Mr Winchester had been giving me in the nine months I’d had him, meeting this guy seemed like a gods-send, right?

After allowing Jeremy to fix my wheel, drive me to the closest Engen garage for brake-fluid, paying him for his efforts, making arrangements for a check-up the next week and giving him my number, I made the colossal mistake of revealing I didn’t have a boyfriend, fiancé or husband.

Look, I’ll be honest, I enjoyed having him tell me that a pretty girl like me shouldn’t have to take care of a sports car by herself but seriously it seemed like no more than an innocent ego boost on the last day of the year, and all I saw Jeremy as was a means to fix my car. If only that had been the end of it…

Later that evening, as I settled in for a Dr Who NYE marathon ( don’t judge me, as Cape Town’s resident socialite who attended way more parties than the average person, a night in on the couch with friends was the only way I wanted to spend December 31), Jeremy texted me to ask if the car was ok. I responded that it was but then he started asking about what I was up to (classic code for “booty call”). When I didn’t respond, he began calling me at random intervals, which I ignored too.

By now, I was a little freaked out… what had started as purely a means to an end was becoming decidedly weird and stalker-like.

This pattern continued in much of the same manner for the next week – he’d call and I’d ignore him until one morning, at 2 am, my phone rang again.

Kids, my small apartment in the City Bowl has always felt like a safe haven, from the minute I stepped into it, but that night, knowing someone was actively stalking me and as irrational as it sounds, possibly parked outside in my street (even though I hadn’t given him my address, who’s to say he hadn’t taken down my car registration number?), I was seriously frightened!

Eventually, I blocked Jeremy from calling me – so he could dial my number but his call would be stopped – and life settled back into normalcy…

Until one morning three months later, when I answered a call from a private number, thinking it was your Nan calling. When I answered with a casual “Hello”, Jeremy said: “Oh, so you do know how to answer your phone. Do you know who’s speaking?” I pretended not to know who he was and ended the call.

A few minutes later, I received a text from him saying: “Wow, if I had known how rude you were, I’d never have been interested. I get the message, I won’t contact you again.”

What the actual F***?! Are you serious, dude?! You stalked me for months, I avoided your calls so clearly I’m not interested and you want to lecture me on etiquette? Oh, hell no! This not 50 Shades of Grey –get a freaking life, pal!

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I thought I was rid of the creepy, I-want-to –tie-you-up-in-my-basement-type until …

June 2014…

Mr Fix It was your Great Gramps’ and Uncle D’s family mechanic, who did wonders on their fleet of vans and your Nan’s Yaris too so naturally, when Mr W was once again having a starter switch issue, I turned to him.

I had a sick week off work and was spending it at your Nan’s, to help her pack and host farewell parties before she jetted off to Melbourne for a two week work trip (yes, that’s your grandmother’s style, leaving for 14 days but hosting parties like she’s immigrating!) so Mr Fix It came by every day to tend to the car. Consequently, we spent a hell of a lot of time together, which sadly Mr Fix It misconstrued as us falling in love.

Here’s the thing: I have always been remarkably good at being a guy’s best girl (as in platonic) friend – I’m the chick you tell your deep, dark insecurities and secrets to, who will match you in eating the most junk food and discuss the intricacies of a fight between Batman and Superman.

I am also super friendly, so I will ask you about your mom, your dad, and your day, how you like your coffee and what your plans are for the weekend. BUT, and here is the important thing: I am NOT flirting with you – at ALL!

I’m serious, Kids, I wasn’t – in fact, on more than one occasion that week, Mr Fix It saw me in all of my un-combed hair, brunch- gobbling glory – it wasn’t pretty! So why the heck he thought this was the start of a beautiful relationship, I have no freaking clue.

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Besides making his intentions to marry me known to my grandfather (who, bless him, gave Mr Fix It one look and said “You’re no match for my granddaughter!”), religiously asking my aunt and uncle if they had seen me AND sending me random texts to ask what I’m up and why I wasn’t responding to his texts; Mr Fix It started hanging out with your Nan’s friends, in the hopes of running into me at a social event. Gods Almighty, man, get the picture: I’m just not that into you!

It’s been months and I haven’t received a text from the poor guy in a while – let’s hope it stays that way.

I have more than enough trouble keeping the Mr Eagers of the world in check, I don’t need Christian Grey wanna-bes dogging my every move too.

F*** it! Next!

How I Met Your Father: The Set-Up Man

blind date ctgirlwiththeredscarfKids, in the winter of 2015 I found myself at the center of yet another set-up/ blind date scheme by one of my well-meaning friends. While I admit I was intrigued by the prospect of meeting someone who’d been vetted and vouched for by someone who loves me, it got me to thinking about my previous, somewhat failed set-up attempt …

December 2013 …

Your Aunt E had been raving about Silver Fox Writer for the three weeks since she and the others had issued the 28 Dates challenge, insisting we’d be perfect for each other since we both had such a great love for the written word and travel. She’d given him my number so all I had to do was wait patiently for him to contact me and set up the date.

Which, thankfully, he didn’t dally about doing and so we were all set for a drinks date at Café Mojito in Long Street the following day.

Nervous as all hell, I arrived 10 minutes early, checking out every seemingly single male who walked through the door; anxiously wondering what he looked like ( E had said he’s hot), how old he was ( E pegged him for early 40s,which yes, was considerably older but hey, it was just a f***ing date, right?) and whether he would like me or not ( remember, I hadn’t dated anyone in a while, besides the Prince of Egypt and we all know how well that turned out!).

Silver Fox Writer arrived on time (bonus brownie points) and he was extremely charming. We ordered drinks, chatted about careers, why we’re still single, family life (he had a daughter), cities we loved visiting and more.

Yes, he was handsome, easy to talk to and I began to relax, thinking that dating an older man wasn’t going to be all that difficult until …

Ten minutes into the date, when we’d barely even touched our drinks, Silver Fox Writer leans over, grabs my arm and says: “Look, I really like you … so where is this going?”

Whoa, Cowboy, hold your horses there for a sec! Everyone always says girls go big on the end resulting {forecasting the future of the relationship with images of meeting the friends and family, moving in together , weddings and babies etc) but obviously they haven’t heard of guys, and older ones especially, doing it too.

I responded with a coy “ let’s see how well date number one goes, shall we?” and tried to get the date back on track but then he dropped the bombshell that he was 52 and had a 19-year-old daughter… gods almighty! This man was the same age as your Nan, Kids … not cool!

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Look, I am no ageist – in fact, at that point in time, I was harbouring a serious celebrity crush on 49-year-old Johnny Depp, but I had to be realistic about things. Silver Fox Writer was no Captain Jack Sparrow – I wanted babies, you guys, and this man was not in the baby-making business when he already had a grown daughter. Simply put, I was just not that into him.

As we parted ways with a fumbled goodbye kiss, I realized I wasn’t all that disappointed that things hadn’t worked out on this set-up.

If anything, the experience taught me that while your loved ones have your best interests at heart and are trying to do an amazing thing for you, what they see as a great choice for you and what you want for yourself are two completely different things.

Back in 2015…

Now I find myself in a similar situation and this time, I am going to be smarter about things.

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Impala Fanatic is  a single, older man and seems stable-looking, if his Facebook photos are anything to go by ( yes, I’ve stalked his page, this is what dating in the 21st century looks like – you get to know the basic details from the Internet).

My friend swears we’re made for each other with our similar interests and personalities. I’ll be the judge of that when we have this date but if we aren’t soul mates … well, it’s just a f***ing date, right?!

How I Met Your Father: The Speed Dating Wars

 speed_dating_london_event-840x550Kids, a huge part of the dating scene for the singles struggling to meet The One are speed dating events. Since I was on this quest to meet your father, naturally the 5 minute roundabout of talking to strangers formed part of my mission – with various degrees of success and failure.

February 2014…

Something I’ve instilled in you since before you could talk is to try crazy and new things because you never know where the next adventure might lead to. That’s the frame of mind I was in when I signed up for the Cosmopolitan Guinness World Record Speed Dating event back in 2014.

Sure, I had to fake being ill so I could get out of work to attend the event (and no, don’t even think about doing the same thing, my progeny!) and avoid the TV cameras filming the event so that my bosses wouldn’t catch me in the act, but for the chance to meet 200 plus other singles who might or might not be my soul mate, I risked it.

As you can well imagine, with so many love-seeking individuals, things got quite chaotic. I “dated” close to 20 people that day and by Bachelor number 10, I’d forgone all pleasantries and just opened with “So, what’s your favourite Marvel character?”.

Some guys found it funny, others did not …and one guy loved it so much, we went to Cafe Caprice for post-event drinks! Yay, success! RJ was a doctor, from Stellenbosch, who had been bullied into attending the event because his best friend refused to do it alone – thank the gods!

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As had been the case with our short date, we couldn’t stop talking about how much we had in common (series, chocolates, comic book characters, cities we’d love to visit etc) and I really thought he was amazing. RJ gave me his number and took mine, promised to tick me off on the score sheet as someone he’d definitely like to see again and that he’d call me…which he didn’t.

I was a little gun shy about speed dating for a while until …

February 2015…

You guys know how much I love Valentine’s Day… no, seriously, it’s one of my all-time favourite days and not just because I get to feast on chocolate like the world will never end.

It’s linked to some of my best childhood memories, helping your Nan decorate heart-shaped cookies for your granddad in years when they were struggling financially and it’s the only thing she could afford to give him … or it might also have been symbolic for what she’d give him later that night, but whatever, let’s stick to the “I’ll love you through richer and poorer” theory before I scar all of us for life!

The point is, I love this holiday but in 2015 I wasn’t about to spend the month of amore alone yet again so off I went to a Lock and Key Speed Dating event at the 80s Disco club in Claremont.

As the name suggests, everything about the club was retro, right down to the dark interior and leather couches, which apparently inspired couples to get up close and personal … a feature I tried the better part of the evening trying to avoid.

With more than 20 people arriving for the event, two things soon became apparent: 1.) There were far less men than women and 2) I was the youngest person at this event… crap!

The concept of the event was simple – guys were issued keys to see if they fit into the girls’ locks – and no, that’s not as dirty as it sounds. Every round would last 5 minutes before the bell would be rung and you’d swap partners. Simple, right? What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, my loves, so very, very much… Not only did I inadvertently ended up “”dating” a prominent Iger ( Instagram user) who was  a VIP on my company’s followers list but a handsy, 50-something-year -old Don Juan inappropriately propositioned me too.

I’m not kidding … he just straight up asked me if I wanted to get out of there and make the night interesting in his car. WTF?!!!

The experience left me with an out of body feeling, and I was conscious of thinking throughout the next several “dates”, “Lady, what the hell are you doing? Is this really what you’ve been reduced to? Making asinine small talk with the ones Cupid forgot? You deserve better!”

I dragged myself home to drown my sorrows in a tub of Nutella and a viewing of Alexander Skarsgard, my one true Swedish actor love, in The Giver, while vowing never to speed date again.

BUT…

It’s been four months and maybe I should give it a spin again… who knows? Your Dad might just be number 52 at the next roundabout, keen to chat Marvel characters, chocolate brands he can’t live without and your future names 😉

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How I Met Your Father: Mr Over Eager

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Kids, the 28 dates journey to meeting your Dad had its trying moments … over  the first 18+ months, I met all kinds of guys – the hot and jerk like; the mature and childish; the no –shows and … the over eager.

This particular type of male was a special breed, most notable for his zealous need to please you, his almost reverent need to include you in future plans and tie you down (and you could never be too sure that this wouldn’t include cable ties!) and his astounding capability to turn into a scarier version of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Mr Freeze when you tried, very gently, to put the brakes on this not-so budding relationship.

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You guys remember Surfer Dude, the small town guy looking for Ms Right in the Mother City, right? Well, to explain how that went to hell at an alarming rate, let me tell you about all of the boys I didn’t love before…

November 2013…

A week after my friends and your godparents challenged me to the 28 Dates, I was walking across Greenmarket Square during my lunch hour, minding my own business when a kind-looking man smiled at me.

Usually, I ignore guys like this because they might be creeps, but I’d agreed to be more open to new possibilities with the 28 Dates thing, right, so I smiled back and thus began a 10 minute conversation with, let’s call him Prince of Egypt, about my gorgeous smile, how I’m the first friendly person he’d met in Cape Town and could he take me out for coffee?

Flattered, and surprised at how easy my dating challenge could be, I gave the Prince my number and we agreed to meet at Vida e the next afternoon after work.

On the designated day, Vida e had already closed for the day, and so I texted the Prince to meet me at the café next door. He arrived 10 minutes late but hey, since he’d been closing up to the general trading store he’s manages ,I couldn’t be mad at him.

The late issue I could move on from and even politely turning him down for dinner at Mesopotamia which he’d apparently booked for, when I had expressly said I could only meet for coffee as I had an event that night, is something I could overlook; but it’s what happened next that sent me running for the hills faster that you could say “Magic carpet ride!”

After idle chatter for 15 minutes about careers, him telling me that I was incredibly beautiful but too old to still be unmarried, him boasting about his home in Goodwood that he was renovating to bring his large extended family to live with him at, the car he drove, the amount of money he makes which is more than enough to support a (second!) wife with; I started to suspect that all was not well with his not-so-royal highness.

The Prince was slightly uncomfortable with my choice of venue, as it serving alcohol was against his religious beliefs and surely it should be against mine too, considering my name. I explained my agnostic views and he tried to understand, saying that he is sure his mother and sisters could help me find my way back to the path, when he took me home to meet them in Morocco…. Wait, what?!!!

How, in the name of all of the gods, did we go from a coffee date to Meet the Parents in the desert?!! And why would this man think I’d go all willy nilly with him, with no money, family or friends to a foreign country? Anyone else get a Sally Fields ‘Not without My Daughter vibes here?!

Thanks, but no thanks, Prince… I think I prefer the land of the free where I can be my awesome, non-religious, independent self, thank you very much! After a month of “Let me take you out and take care of you because it’s wrong for a woman of your age to be alone and husbandless” texts, the Prince finally got the message to go bride-hunting elsewhere.

Which made me wary of smiling at strange men or chatting to those professing the need to take me out because I am so utterly irresistible until…

December 2014…

Lonely Emo was a late 20s, young entrepreneur from Gordon’s Bay, who had travelled the world and was keen to try the Mother City dating pool once again. He loved my exotic look, my deep love for reading and travelling and was keen to take me out for ice cream if I was free.

We couldn’t quite agree on which beach to stroll along for this ice cream meet-up so we settled for Primi Piatti V&A.  Lonely Emo arrived before I did, had snagged a prime viewing spot and was a big huggy bear type with a great smile. I had hope that this would be a great date.

And it was, for the most part. We chatted about past travels, places he’d lived in, our families, our interests etc. It was around the “So, why are you on this dating site?”, that things took a turn for the weird.

As it turns out, Lonely Emo, though a year younger than me, had been married for four years to a gorgeous Lebanese woman ( hence his love for my “exotic look”), and they had lived happily in London and India for two years, when tragedy struck – she had ovarian cancer and had sadly passed away.

Now, Kids, I am no stranger to loss and in fact, just participating in the28 Dates challenge had taken a lot of courage in allowing myself to open up to other people but this was a little on the heavy side for me. Judging from your Nan’s numerous suitors following your granddad’s death, no one likes being the rebound guy or girl after the dearly departed spouse because you always feel like you can’t measure up to their memory.

But, I wasn’t ready to give up quite yet so when Lonely Emo suggested we have a follow-up date, I agreed. I was slightly freaked out but pleased when within half an hour of the date, he called me to say that he had a really, REALLY great time and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

Which would have been a great place to leave me wanting more, but then two hours later, he sent me a six part text telling me how beautiful I am, how incredibly lucky he is I agreed to date him, that he was so nervous about spending time with me and that he was looking forward to the next time.

A+ for enthusiasm, dude, but leave something for date 2, right? After responding that I had had a great time too, I didn’t hear from him for three days when suddenly I received a barrage of texts from 7am to enquire about whether I knew that manager at Primi Piatti, because they were taking money from his account without his permission.

When I said I didn’t, I received a curt “Fine, I’ll sort it out” message and the insinuation that I was helping the restaurant in robbing him. Talk about a mind-coitus! From “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world!” to “You stole my wallet and my heart!” in a mere three days? That’s an all new record for me being dumped, Kids!

Suffice it to say, I never heard from Lonely Emo again and I was done with falling for the super keen but then…

June 2015…

Surfer Dude had been my second most favourite candidate of the three I had set up dates with in late May even if I initially wanted nothing to do with him because unfortunately for him, he shared a name with the man who broke my heart.

At your godmother and Uncle T’s insistence that I couldn’t hold one man’s crimes against his namesake, I gave Surfer Dude my number and didn’t hear from him for a few weeks. When I finally worked up the courage to ask him if he was still interested, he immediately responded with a resounding yes and started texting me.

Now, Kids, because I work in social media and I am in contact with thousands of people all day, I prefer not to do much online chatting in my free time – I am all about being present with the person in the moment, face to face. I explained as much to Surfer Dude, who wasn’t that keen on not chatting but agreed since we would then have more to talk about on our date the following week.

When he asked for a photo of me in exchange for the one he’d sent, which I hadn’t asked for, I explained that I wasn’t comfortable sending them to him and asked him to please be content with the (fully-clothed) ones he could see on my profile. Trust me on this, my loves, the Internet is forever – you do not need any inappropriate images of yourself out there for the world to see.

We chatted on and off amicably for a week, about his move to Cape Town, work etc. until he started asking weird questions about whether I would still want to be intimate with other people if we had to start a relationship – great question for when you have the “exclusive talk” a month or two into seeing each other, not so much when you’ve only been chatting for a week.

He also had quite the ego – when I told him I’d been stood up by my date one Saturday, his flippant response was “Told you I am the man. That’s what happens when you date little boys.” A little bit funny, sure, but not what I needed to hear right then, and sensitivity would have gone a long way in his favour.

All the same, I was looking forward to our date. When he texted me to confirm the Monday before, I was ready to respond about how excited I was but then he asked for a photo again. I reiterated that I wasn’t comfortable doing so and asked him to please stop asking me as it was annoying.

Surfer Dude then went all Mr Freeze on me, accused me of being bossy and insisted we end things immediately. I politely told him that I wasn’t being bossy, I was explaining my boundaries to him and if he couldn’t respect them, then yes, by all means we should end things.

Like your godmother said: “Screw him! You do not have to lower yourself to his level by supplying him with masturbatory material! Freak!”

And she’s right, Kids… Finding your father is important, having you even more so but I do not have to degrade myself in the process.

To all my future suitors, take a leaf out of Aretha Franklin’s book:

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