Kids, in January 2018, I was back on the online dating grind… even though the 2020 deadline of having you had nothing to do with finding your father, I still had to get back out there sometime or other, right?
For this new foray into the murky online waters, I turned to Tinder, thinking that I hadn’t given it enough of a go back in 2016/2017.
My first week yielded two vastly different suitors.
Bachelor Number 1: Mr Send Me Shady Photos:
Razvan was a 33-year-old Romanian financial manager who, apart from apparently being an admirer of my considerable curves, was also a nude photo enthusiast.
He pestered me for days to send him a photo because he wanted to “further enhance the image he had of me in his imagination”
I came across a Facebook page recently and watched a video on opinions not changing the world. As the narrator was speaking I thought of the dynamic between women and how the opinions by men have changed our world.
I am not a feminazi or pushing a pro female anti male agenda, I would just like to know your opinion.
Because women have been so moulded by the power of men and brainwashed in to believeing that there is only one aesthetic which is pleasing and only one way of thinking which is enticing to men and that if we don’t fit this mould, we are lesser than what we think we are because we don’t meet a standard put on to us by an outside opinion.
Now in our present age women are inundated with feel good promos and slogans about loving yourself despite what the media think. Eat that piece of cake despite the calories because you need to love you and to hell with the opinions of the people i.e men around etc etc. We get told to change our way of thinking but the issue of the male perception as set out by media is almost never addressed.
I have not seen a interview panel where men are told to change their opinions or shown what it has done to the psyche of women. It always falls on the female to accept what was done and move on. So essentially we treat the symptoms but not the disease.
If a man treats a larger woman with respect and love he is given a pat on the back and praised for looking beyond the outside…
What if he likes the outside? is he then to be ridiculed for his liking her not inspite of but because of her curves?
Why is it solely our responsibility to teach a man how to treat us? Surely the men raising young men need to shape their minds to the actual world around them and not what media tells them?
So how do you measure a man when the opinions of his sex have shaped our world and still do?
I have no idea why this popped in my head, but I felt I needed to write it down and share it with you all.
Hit me up in the comments below and let me hear your opinions.
Him: “I like you but…. I don’t want a relationship for the next 5 years”
Me: “Then why did you ask me out when I told you I am a relationship girl, you dumb shit!”
Let me tell you a little story about someone I met after Dr Douchebag. This one just so happens to be a doctor as well. Sadly, no McSteamy or McDreamy…. well he’s Mcsteamy but I ain’t telling him that! Nah ah booboo.
No, I am not a doctor nor do I work in the medical field – it was just a really weird time where for some reason the men I met through friends all turned out to be medical professionals.
We met, sparks flew in every which way possible. I know he was super into it because he literally ran to get back to me when he had to leave for about 5 minutes to” get smokes” as he calls it. He could not be away from me for longer than a few minutes, we liked the same things and had similar interests in travel and life. He’s into online gaming, I’m in to online gaming so… nerdgasm right?
And he totally fit my tall dark and handsome requirements. The friends we were with melted in to the background of wherever we were and all that was left was the two of us. This is the beginning of a great love story right, RIGHT?!
So f***ing wrong!
We hit it off and we kept in touch. We have “The Talk:
I tell him I’m a relationship girl and that I don’t do the casual thing. Which he responded to by trying out some moves which I deflected with my ninja like abilities because they don’t call me Chun Li for nothing!
They call me Chun Li because of my eyes and hair but I digress…
Everything was going well and we went out a few times and a few months go by and he decides we need the talk…. again.
The same spiel comes out that I had already played out in my head, except for a few minor tweaks.
It started off quite normally:
Him: “I like you, this is amazing never felt like this before and I want to get closer much closer…”
Same old same old right? Hold on to your hats, Bitches, shit’s about to get real…where did we leave off…ah yes:
Him:” I want to get closer … but is it ok if we bang and I don’t speak to you for like two weeks because that’s just who I am? Also, I don’t want a relationship with anyone for five years but I feel this is something that we can build on. This, you and me thing …do you agree?”
Please join me in a moment of silence for this almost relationship because it’s dead now!
I’m sorry… WHAT?
Why the F***?!
Why ask me out in the first place if you did not want to pursue something more?! Why keep up the pretence?!
Why the f*** not just say you want a special friend to help you when you have an itch?! I would have understood… and by that I mean I would have walked away a lot sooner – A LOT sooner!
Y’all men make it so hard not to hate all of you from the get go…
This experience left me asking “How can a doctor be so stupid”? I mean in your years of reading books about the anatomy and whatever else ,you could not pick up a book about how to not be an idiot …they have a whole series of For Dummies books. YOUR NAME IS IN THE TITLE!!
Boys pretending to be men are stupid and this more than solidified my belief that it doesn’t matter how many degrees or PhDs you have, it doesn’t make you a man. Anyone can memorise tons of reading material. Too bad he couldn’t memorise a relationship book -namely how not to be a dumbass in one!
If anyone knows where the real men are ,could you drop a sista a line, send a smoke signal or something cause I’m done with this.
I am not shaving my legs unless you’re worth me looking extra cute or it’s a really hot summer day and I want to wear a skirt!
You know, I am sitting here at my desk as I do on a regular basis because, mamacita got a day job and there ain’t no sugar daddy in sight, which got me thinking about a certain someone that made me become more aware of the weird way in which some men operate.
I say some, because contrary to hurt girl beliefs, not all men are bad. There are awesome men out there, good ones, and gentlemen. Yes ladies as hard as it is to find them, there are some men who look out for the person in their lives.
Now that I have gotten that disclaimer out of the way, let’s begin with spilling the tea.
I would like to recite to you the tale of the Lady and the Douchebag, not just any douchebag I tell you, this one dear Sirs and Madams was a doctor. You know how everybody and their auntie wants to get together with a doctor because….bragging rights aaannnnnd free checkups well let me tell you, ye know the saying, “just because you met them at church don’t mean they ain’t a demon”. Well,just because he’s a doctor, doesn’t mean he will save you. Hippocratic Oath be damned …. this man needs to be schooled and not with a PHD.
It started off innocently enough. We met at a party with friends, locked eyes for longer than 5 seconds ,did the whole lingering smile thing before going back to our respective corners to critique and make notes with the guys and gals in our posse (Don’t give me the side eye ladies, you know you do this -men too)
At this point you may be asking why I call him Dr. Douchebag, to which in turn I say, you will understand and agree as you keep reading.I cannot make this shit up. At first you will like him but then you will squint your eyes and think to yourself….is this man an idiot?
Ok,so picture our first meeting; an extravagant birthday bash in a wonderful venue set against a beautiful backdrop of black and gold, swish and full of wonderment.
Beautiful people in beautiful clothes dressed to the nines, amazing music is pumping out from the DJ box, the crowd is alive and having a great time, we’re busting out moves that make Beyoncé shy away to the corner ’cause guuurl, we got this!
I’ve been on my diet and my gym game isstrong so the girl is snatched, yes Gawd! It’s all seemingly perfect right,? RIGHT!?!?!?!?!!?! I was wrong, nothing was perfect. It sunk like the Titanic before it even left the docks and although there was ice involved, there was no iceberg so mofo had me looking like a deer in the headlights, stunned AF.
As you do when you find someone you like and want to attract their attention in your direction you try and flirt. Problem is, I suck at flirting. All day every day I would not get even a D, it would be more like an F for WTF are you doing with your LIFE go buy yourself a clue. I tried and he looked like he was not interested so I chose to continue enjoying the night.
So, Mr. and his posse of 5 strong eligible friends looking like the Backstreet Boys decked out in all black like we’re one minute into the “I’ll never break your heart” video, (I’m a child of the 90’s, sue me) are generally all around me and our one common female friend.
He in particular is always right behind me which at first I could not figure out why because I thought my weak attempt at flirting had crashed and burned…(Chica you’re oblivious you might say while reading this, my response:YES. I was like a blind man in a dark room with no music, absolutely clueless.)
Their presence is so prominent my friends start asking why I brought bodyguards with me like I’m a foreign diplomat trying to suss out national secrets or something and I am oblivious to the fact that he has already laid claim to my person and is now protecting his territory.
Because I was so clueless I tried to move away from him as much as I could to get down and boogie but everywhere I went ,there he was. Eventually I sit down on one of the swish seats made available for our party and one of his friends ,whom I later found out was his brother, was sitting next to me.
We get chatting about frivolous nonsense and after a few moments I feel someone plop down next to me……yes that’s right it’s the doctor he is sitting as close as possible to me which I think is because he doesn’t want me speaking to his friend so I look up and let Mr. know I’m just finding out if his friend is ok. I think at the end of this little conversation he will get up and go, but boy was I wrong.
He stayed, ladies and gents, all freaking night, bought the most expensive bubbly you could at the establishment and always served me and only me and no one else……(Yes, I was that clueless, but he’s a douche so it evens itself out.)
We speak a bit and as I try to keep the conversation going, he gives me one word answers. Just like the men out there, women are not mind readers: if you like us, use the tools you were born with and let us know.
If you’re not good with that, go buy yourself some power tools and get to hammering away. I am not an X-Men character… my name is not Jean Grey and I cannot read your mind.I do not have access to Cerebro. (For reference to this reference, watch anything where Hugh Jackman has his shirt off and has knives coming out of his knuckles even if you hate the movie just fast forward to the parts were Hugh has his shirt off, you will thank me later) if I did we would not have this problem.
If you’re a talker, orate something if you use ASL sign it out, if you’re not good with words send me a text made up of emojis or go all Last of the Mohicans and send me a freaking smoke signals I don’t care, QUIET DOES NOT LET ME KNOW THAT YOU LIKE ME!!!
The following week my good male friend and I(Yes, just a friend I’ve known him since I was a kid there is a friend, no benefits…that’s just ….ew) go to a club where we know the people and our friend worked.
I let her know I’m on my way. As we enter she tells me that the doctor is in and would like my presence at his table that night. I don’t see any harm in being friendly and go over to he and his friends. I’m welcomed and he acts all gentleman like, offering me a seat when his friends are clueless and just let me stand whilst speaking to me.
He goes all out thanking me for helping his brother when something happened on our first meeting, insists that anything and everything I want is on him. Which is nice but I didn’t ask for anything so I still snuck away to buy my own drink because I can. The gesture is nice but I helped because he needed it, not because his brother would buy me drinks. (He seems so nice right now doesn’t he, aaah yes ignorance is bliss.)
As the night progresses he and I get very close, on the dance floor, off the dance floor the whole toot and at one stage we’re holding hands and nuzzling.
My friends told me this afterwards because I was a little… how should I put this…..fragile so some of the details are a bit fuzzy. If only I could insert a laughing cry emoji right now I would. Ok ,people of the palace,this is where things start to get a little douche bag like.
He starts to have a few drinks, I notice the more he drinks the easier it is for him so speak to me but instead of engaging me in friendly conversation I was met with this. ‘” You are such a lady, I can see that you’re not like most money hungry females out there but please understand I will buy you whatever you want I have access to unlimited funds just tell me what you want, anything any time I will buy it for you. You know I just bought a car for a million rand, but there was a problem accessing my cash and my uncle gave me the money, the next day I deposited the entire amount back in his account. You will want for nothing I will always look after you, do you like bikes I have two I’m getting another one soon” .I shit you not, this is verbatim.
This went on for longer than I’d have likes and the more I told him I don’t care about his money the more he kept assuring me that he had Rockefeller money.( Like that’s nice but, who you iiiis though?)
At one point in his very one sided conversation I turned to his friends and asked if they could shut him up about his money as I wished to know about him and not about what I could only imagine was bags of moola just strewn across his house ready to for him to brag about. (He did not notice or listen when I asked him to stop talking about his money, he smiled and continued)
They looked at me fully stunned as if I was the first woman to ask him to shut up about his cash, all the while he kept droning on about how I should call him and no matter what it is I need or want he will get it for me because there is no limit to the amount of money he has access to (Douchy right?)
He keeps on talking about money and repeatedly asks me what I want …I was so irritated I gave him the evil eye and said a house in the Swiss Alps which shut him up because though he has a lot of money he does not have Swiss Alps money. (Rockerfeller ,my ass)
I excuse myself from the situation and head to the dance floor. A few friends are already there and we’re grooving to the music when I feel a tug on my arm before I get pulled away rather roughly from the person I’m dancing with…yes you guessed it, Dr D himself. According to a friend of mine he saw me on the dance floor with a male friend, downed a triple gin while giving the guy I was dancing with a look of pure murder and made a bee line for me and subsequently dragged me away from the offending male…..jealous much?!?! (You’re starting to squint aren’t you…and yes, we’re on our way to creepy town)
His friends form a wall of impenetrable douchebags around us and at this time the only thing running through my head is that scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf the Grey screams “YOUSHALL NOT PASS” which nobody did, for the whole night.
I had my very own security service following me around. From bathroom to bar he was there but always playing it off like a gentleman. The rest of the evening is a bit fuzzy, the grape salad I ordered came in a glass or two or three…and it’s rude to send things back to the kitchen so I took one for the team and finished the bottle…(don’t judge, I see you judging)
What I do remember though is that by the end of the night TWO things happened. 1: he asks me to join he and his friends for a show they have tickets to and 2, he drinks so much he starts throwing up in the ice bucket provided for his table and starts to cry….oh and he almost fought with a waitron in his drunken state because they wanted to cash up and asked who would be paying, Mr money bags got incredibly defensive and started raising his voice talking about, “Don’t they think I can pay huh, do they know how much money I have, do they know who I am” Everyone in his party stood up to try and calm him down and he would not until I tugged his arm and he immediately stopped and then pulled out his wallet to give to me.. (Douchebag)
Because the invitation to the show was done in a half inebriated state I thought nothing of it really, but it came through. I received a text a day later asking me if I would join the friends to go to the show which I accepted and asked when I should meet them.
He insisted that he pick me up and take me home, after an exchange of, I can get myself there no sweat, and it seemed rather evident that he REALLY wanted to pick me up so I complied. The allotted time comes and I’m ready and waiting when I hear the rev of a huge car engine outside my house…My first thought, ÿeah he brought the million rand car to show off.
PEOPLE I WAS RIGHT!!, outside my house stood this shiny two door sports car that make most men cream their pants just looking at it. I mean the thought is nice and all but did our previous meeting not get you to understand that money is not how you impress me!!!!
In the car are his best friend and my female friend, I think nothing of it as we trudge along to the show. Ten minutes before we reach our destination he says nonchalantly that he no longer feels like sitting on the chairs thereand would like to rather go and get some coffee.
Also everyone else cancelled, he tells me this after my repeated questions about the rest of the party fall upon deaf ears (My spidey sense is tingling)…
Did i just get duped in to a double date, nooo I couldn’t have, like this doesn’t happen in real life right, this is some Hollywood Punk’d isht isn’t ? Sadly not. He duped me in to a double date. (Deer meet headlights)
Naturally we went to some lavish place for him to show off. It would have been great if only he was able to speak to me instead of sitting tight lipped for most of the time we were there. He stared at me, he shyly smiled at me and spoke to his friend about money, soccer, how he took no nonsense from people who worked under him and my absurd idea about going to a music festival, why I should eat more and get an iphone and use his music service and start doing this and that and so on and so forth and more about the absurdity of my like of music festivals which is stupid.
That my taste in music should be changed and I should listen more to what he listens to, all the while not really speaking to me but about me to the rest of the people there. Flashing his super expensive watch in my direction every few minutes so I would notice and ask or compliment on it and when I did not he shoved the metal timepiece under my nose to show me what the doodads were (Like I give a fuck)…(like seriously who is you?)
This man spent the entire time that I knew him showing off what he had and not once did he try and get to know me on a more personal level. His chivalry confused me, I didn’t know if he was a shy gentleman or just an undecided douche bag. In the end it was decided – OMWM was it decided!
Who tricks a woman in to a date?!?!?! Is this an everyday thing, why can’t you speak to me properly without being tipsy, do I intimidate you or should I be intimidated by you, have I stepped in to the twilight zone? What the actual fuck is going on right now?!?!
I DRESSED UP EXTRA CUTE FOR THIS. I DID MY HAIR FOR THIS DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG MY HAIR IS!!!!!!
Right now as I’m typing this out I’m still confused…..I really think I got Punk’d – maybe Ashton Kutcher lost his way and forgot to tell me it was all a big joke because that is what it feels like….
There is so much more like how his friends aren’t allowed to swear near me or compliment me or sit near me or THERE IS JUST TOO MUCH…….safe to say, boy was a douche bag in doctor’s clothing with a shitty bedside manner and I still can’t believe that I was duped in to a double date(DOES THIS LOOK LIKE HIGH SCHOOL?) …..Oh and also DOUCHE BAG MUCH!!!!!
This, Guys and Girls , is my first forage in to the world of blogging about my life ’cause this shit is real and somebody has to hear about it…. The voices in my head can only do so much before they start turning on one another.
First and foremost, call me Lilu. It’s short and somewhat cute, just like me. Back in 2017, I’m a 31-year-old woman who has been single on and off for two years now and man, have I seen some M Nightshamalamadingdong crazy out there.
I’m not your typical single woman of what people discern as a “Certain Age”. Yeah, Bitch, it’s called 31 and although I don’t eat this fast food – the slogan fits ‘Mmm, I’m lovin it” cue Justin Timberlake intro…I wish.
And as always, I’ve gone off track. What I was trying to say is I’m not looking for a guy to marry, I’m looking for a partner.
I need a good relationship before I can think of marrying anyone because some of these men out there are like Freys at the Red Wedding…if you did not catch that…Child, you need to watch some Game of Thrones.
What I mean is I’m not desperate or constantly looking at who’s eligible.I don’t go out with the purpose to just meet a man so that I can have this Jerry McGuire-you-complete me-moment.
Don’t get me wrong :I was that for a hot minute. I believed this perfect moment would come and the sparks would fly and we would fly off to our castle on a magic carpet ride…. I dreamed of a Ferrari but got a Uno fire with a very good paint job.
After being in a long-term relationship where I thought I was happy and safe in this bubble of codependency and comfortable silence (in the wrong way I might add), I both revered and feared singledom.
I kind of knew I needed to get out but I was afraid to no longer have the label of girlfriend so I stayed in an unhappy and more importantly unhealthy relationship much longer than I should have. When I finally plucked up the courage and walked away it was the most terrifying thing I had ever done so far in my short life (no pun intended).
I went through every stage of grief you could go through because I lost a part of me that had always been there …well to me,anyway. I lost what I had come to know as home and all I could see was the loss of what was and not the potential of what could be……and oh.what potential turned out to be.
There have been tears, laughs, denials, super idiotic choices to please somebody because I wanted their approval. There have been friendships found and lost, family gained and what was shattered shards of myself put back together again.
Not in the way I was before, in a different kind of way, not better or worse just differently, stronger, better equipped to leave when a situation is bad and more confident to let someone know I like them when I do because ain’t nobody got time for high school yes , no and maybe games.
My stories are many, and the people in them a colorful array of crazy and fun, sometimes more Norman Bates-like crazy than I would like but hey, sometimes you gotta roll with the punches.
As I went through all of this and still go through the surprises that life brings me, there was one I was not ready for.
There is a difference between having life and living it and enjoying life and watching it pass you by. Once you start living it, there’s no going back..
Also…..why is Kale a thing like it’s nice and all but does it have to be everywhere??
It is a universal fact of life that just when you think you have the hang of the adult thing , Life will bitch slap you and prove that just like Jon Snow, you know nothing!
See, in 2017, the month after my return from the Big Apple, adulting hit me hard …so hard in fact , that, I was pretty sure I’d be living off two minute Maggi noodles for the rest of the f***ing year and saying goodbye to my dreams of travelling.
In a week that can only be described as the ninth circle of Dante’s Inferno, I had the most f***ked seven days of bad online dating ( we’ll chat about that next time); home renovations where the builders left more damage than they fixed and the unpleasant news that I needed surgery that would cost me an arm and a leg.
Add to that the fact that I was locked out of my own apartment complex because the building managers changed the f***ing locks without telling anyone and every second person I met asking me to define my ethnicity and marital status and you can understand why all I was craving was a walk through Central Park.
I used to hate it when adults told me not to be so impatient to grow up… I now understood what they meant.
The icing on the proverbial cake, of course, was that this was all happening in the lead up to Valentine’s Day and I was feeling my singleton status all the more keenly.
I knew I was a strong independent woman but when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles and an ever growing mountain of debt, I wished, just for a second, someone else would do the adulting for me and take the load off.
Kids, by 2016, I had had it with everyone from my grandmother to the guy at my local Spar poking their noses into my solo status and forcing their unsolicited opinions onto me about why it was that I was still single.
Here are 5 things I wish those people (smug marrieds, otherwise attached and even fellow singles too) would stop saying to singletons:
You’re too picky:
I’m going to let Madea take care of this one for me:
Let us be clear on one thing: I am NOT picky, I am selective – about who I spend time with and who I choose to be with. I am bloody amazing and I need my future partner to be of an equal standing to build a future with.
I will not settle for mediocre, boring AF men who have no ambition and interests, cannot support themselves or nurture and realise a family, just to make you feel better about me being single!
You’re just looking in all of the wrong places:
Oh, so that’s what I’ve been doing wrong all of this time?! Well, would you mind pointing me in the right direction there, Mr or Ms Know-It-All?
Because I am pretty sure I have looked f***ing EVERYWHERE – bars, bookstores, house parties, events, music concerts, meet-ups, blind dates, group hangouts, Tinder, OkCupid, Datingbuzz, speed dates, on international visits etc.
Every goddamn dating advice site or book tells singles to go to events and places that interest us and we’re bound to meet potential mates with similar interests.
Obviously I am the only comic book- reading, cosplaying, horror movie fanatic, musical-adoring, concert-going, pancake-addict, chocolate-devouring bookworm in the entire world or my soul mate lives on another planet.
Stop hating men so much:
Dear uneducated assholes …if you spent more than just five minutes of your sorry excuse of a life scrutinizing my singledom and how that reflects badly on you, you would see that I not only love men – I lust, crave, adore and want them in my life.
My undying, incurable, overwhelming desire to re-meet, mate with and marry this guy:
My frequent Beefcakes ‘visits, Magic Mike nights out and general flirting with everything that moves.
I may not always know when a guy is hitting on me but I sure as hell know how to put the moves on one when I feel like it. Like Christian Grey, my tastes in the opposite sex are very singular:
And for the love of the Seven, stop telling me that I might be a lesbian. I will admit that I tend to fall in love with a person’s heart and soul rather than their gender, but this blog isn’t called How I Met Your Father for nothing.
You’re still young – there is plenty of time to find The One:
I know it’s irrational but I feel as though I don’t have the time or the luxury of waiting for Mr Wonderful to show up – my eggs are expiring at an exponential rate.
Then again, Janet Jackson is having a baby at 50 so …ok, I’ll let this one slide.
Just stop looking and he will turn up:
Let me explain this in terms you’ll understand: you know that one handbag/car/house/clothing item/piece of jewellery etc you simply cannot live without and that you HAVE to find?
Yeah, that’s how we singles feel about our potential significant other.
Telling me to stop looking, wanting, searching for and dreaming about him, whoever he may be, is bloody torture. The more you tell me to quit looking, the more I am going to pretend to do just that but still secretly sign onto useless dating sites ,wonder if that cute guy at the café was just being nice or was really into me or imagine that my best male friend has been in love with me for forever.
Just stop giving me false hope that someday my Prince Charming is going to show up when I least expect it.