Tag Archives: stalking

How I Met Your Father: the one with the social media stalkers

Kids, in 2018, as I further embraced my cosplaying, travel-loving, Comic Con-going, geek chick self, the ugly side of pursuing these passions revealed itself – in the form of several social media stalkers.

I’d heard about men taking things a step too far when randomly texting a woman with similar comic book and movie interests and experienced it only once years before but in the Spring of 2018, my personal experience with it intensified.

The Big Apple stranger danger:

Your Spirit Mom Leonie and I were super excited about our upcoming first joint New York trip together and I was periodically sharing photos on Instagram about it:

Enter  iger @pacman52280 aka George Waldman whose account was set to private and only had 128 followers. George, whom I had never, ever spoken to and certainly had no interest in doing so either, took to leaving the following comments on my posts:

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Instagram stalker 1

On their own, sure, the comments seems innocent enough but the fact that this man had taken the time to immerse himself in my feed, go through what in particular interested me, scrutinized my passions and kept commenting when I was clearly not responding to him, freaked me out.

The fact that he had a private account, was a stranger and was insisting on meeting me, a solo female traveller in a foreign city, also set too many alarm bells ringing.

I’d dealt with thirsty men before but this was just on another level and I did not appreciate it.

I blocked George swiftly but I hated the fact that I now had to censor myself  when posting about the things I loved doing, simply because a man could not get a f**ing hint and stop harassing me… and this in the era of #MeToo.

It was the first time in all of my solo travelling adventures that I felt unsafe and it was utterly unnecessary.

Know where the f***ing line is, men, and toe it. It’s not that goddamn difficult!

The Twitter dirty bird:

Same year, different social media doos… a random Tuesday on Twitter elicited the following inappropriate DM:

Twitter Stalker

Again, I had never spoken to this person before,and had not engaged in any behaviour or communication that would invite this kind of message.

A look at his Twitter profile revealed the following:

Twitter Stalker 2

So, no, it wasn’t just me… this person was a certfied f***ing creep!

I reported him to Twitter immediately.

Social media is great for broadening your horizons but you also need to stay vigilant and be safe, Kids. While I would still be sharing posts about the cool and wonderful things and events I attended, these episodes definitely made me be more careful about it.

How I Met Your Father: The art of not giving a f*** – because they’re finite

Dearest Godkids, the year was 2017 and believe it or not, your fave uncle Leon had just turned 29 for the third time.

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Image credit: http://www.markmanson.net

Kids, by the time you read this, you will probably be 30. After navigating the perilous waters of your twenties and going through multiple quarter-life crises you (having not been raised by me) would have come to learn a few hard truths.

As your mom’s year of being dirty thirty had come to an end I thought I would weigh in on what to expect when you wake up after your big 30th with a dry mouth, a sore head and sans underwear to the horrible realization that alcohol poisoning was not one of the gifts you received.

A lot of things happened in my 30th year, but two major life changing events led me to become a better person, or rather, someone who knew where they are going and what they are doing with their lives.  

 Our 20s were spent stalking, kissing boys (and girls) and generally discovering who we were. So what have I learnt? 

 Don’t be afraid of change 

 Sometimes things happen that are out of your control and that’s okay. Put your control freak tendencies aside and accept it. The more you resist the greater your chances of not succeeding. If it seems that bad, identify why you think that and provide solutions not problems.

 They say the only constant is change.

 Love always don’t come easy but nothing does. 

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Kiss a lot of frogs and don’t be ashamed about it. Finding that mythical “the one” is a load of hogwash despite what your mom would have you believe. Find that one for now, whether it be 3 months, 3 years or 30 years. Your time will come.  And if it doesn’t, then fuck it. Next!

Career change

As clichéd as it sounds do your best to do something you love or have a great passion for. Or that pays you a truckload of money.  

Waking up every day miserable and becoming physically ill at the thought of going in to work is never a pleasant experience. Don’t be afraid to risk it and just up and quit. Having a back up plan helps but sometimes you go wherever life may lead you.

It may not always be easy but you won’t be able to say you didn’t learn something along the way.

Go on adventures

Lots of adventures. It can be slut night out discovering the city like you haven’t before, a weekend stalking mission pretty much like how your mom first encountered your dad or just deciding to save up and travel the world. Alone. But do not ever be afraid to live your life on your own terms.

Appreciate your friends, loyalty is important 

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Your mom and I have been friends since forever. Trust and loyalty is key. Pretty boys and girls will come and go but your friends are always the ones to help pick up the pieces. Surround yourself with people who “get” you. Who forgive your flaws and imperfections and celebrate your successes.

Be healthy, take care of yourself.

You can’t have fun if you’re constantly feeling like death warmed up. Start your heavy drinking early so your liver knows how to deal with alcohol. Stay away from substances that require more than just blowing smoke.

Drink water, eat carbs  and try to exercise at least once every six months.

Just be you.

You is special, you is smart, you is kind.

Or something like that.

Don’t be afraid. Remember your fucks are finite so don’t go handing them out all willy nilly. You’re my godkids so of course you are awesome. Remember that.

 

How I Met Your Father: The Indecent Proposal

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Kids, in the spring of 2008, I was a fledgling junior publicist for a national TV station and at what I considered at the time, the peak of my career.

Working on some of the big local reality shows and top international sitcoms was a dream come true in many aspects and tons of fun. One of the highlights of working for this particular station was being flown to Johannesburg to attend the annual staff party.

This particular year, the party happened to coincide with my 23rd birthday and to say I was in a celebratory mood is an understatement. This excitement lead to me rocking an all-round glow which alarming so, led to an indecent proposal from one of my colleagues …

Saturday 15 November …

The music was pumping and I was shaking what your Nan gave me like the next day was my birthday (ha ha). High on a heady concoction of cocktails, excitement for my name day and pride at the fact that I’d won the Publicity Employee of the Year award, I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that Bryce, the hot programme scheduler was getting all up in my business.

Bryce, born in Cape Town, had joined our station after years of living in London and was rocking a sexy afro and even sexier British accent, reminiscent of Lenny Kravitz in a total bad ass way. The fact that he’d been a professional model before joining the broadcasting world just made him that more ridiculously good-looking and every girl (and some guys) had a crush on him. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t entertained some lustful thoughts about the dude myself … but I digress.

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Back to the party … When I dance, I totally lose myself in the music.  It’s actually quite a spiritual experience (you guys know this, of course, having seen me rock out to Fatman Scoop’s Be Faithful in our living room over the years!) so while Bryce was getting closer and closer, I didn’t really notice it until …

Midnight…

3, 2, 1 … Happy Birthday!

The crowd went wild, people were screaming my name and hugging me and I was delirious with happiness. Into all of the craziness steps Bryce, moving at a glacial pace to lean forward, hug me and plant a tender kiss on my forehead.

Of course, because he was so devilishly handsome, I felt a flutter of “oh wow!” but quickly pushed that feeling aside in favour of dancing to Wyclef Jean’s Heartbreaker and didn’t think about it again.

Sunday 16 November at 1am

Kids, you know how in movies they’re always showing what a rock n roll lifestyle movie and TV stars lead? The drugs, the booze, the men and women and just the sheer debauchery?

Well, it’s all true … the after party and my first birthday party was held in one of the presenters ‘hotel rooms and from the minute my little group of celebrators and I stepped into the room, it was one long orgy of insanity.

I’m talking people eating “sandwiches” right out of the window, married couples ( but not married to each other!) chatting and touching on beds, music blaring from the TV and alcohol everywhere you looked …

Did I shy away from it, like the good newly agnostic girl I was? Oh hell no! It was my birthday, guys, and I was far away from home, in the middle of a kickass party – like Jonah Hilll and Channing Tatum finally letting loose in 21 Jump Street, I got down with the best of them!

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What followed was a merry-go-round of me jumping on the hotel beds while people sang Happy Birthday to me several times and poured shots down my throat at an alarming rate, offering to roll a sandwich for me to give me an extra buzz ( which I refused) and just general feelings of happiness.

I’d never been the centre of attention quite like that before and I loved it! I also knew that it’s best to leave a party at its height so I said my goodbyes and off I went to the other side of the hotel to my room.

As I got into the elevator, Bryce pried the doors open and said: “Really? You’re leaving already?” to which I replied that I had to get up early for my flight back to Cape Town and my party with my family so yes, I was leaving.

He looked really weird and sad for a second before rushing in to hug me and give me another kiss on the forehead. Weirdo …

4am …

I’d barely stripped my dress off when my room phone began ringing insistently. Wondering what the hell Reception wanted at this late or rather early hour, I answered irritably: “Hello?”

“Miss Williams, it’s Reception. I’m so sorry to bother you but I have a young gentleman here who is insisting on speaking with you. Would you please hold for him?”

I felt quite bad about being rude so I said ok and next thing you know, Bryce is on the line.

Him: “Hey, hey birthday girl! What are you up to?”

Me: “Uhm, hey. I’m about to go to bed. Why?”

Him: “Well, are you naked and would you like me to join you?”

Me (totally thinking he’s joking and way too drunk to realise that he’s hot, I’m not and this must be some kind of prank): “Ha ha, no, that’s ok. I will see you in the morning.”

Him: “Why not? Don’t you want me? Don’t you think I’m hot?”

Me (getting slightly pissed off now): “Because I said so! Now, goodnight Bryce, I’ll see you later!”

Him: “Seriously, you’re turning me down? Do you know who I am???”

Me (now positively fuming!): “See, just for that, I don’t even want to speak to you ever again!”

Him (completely changing tact and adopting a pleading tone): “Please? We don’t even have to do anything, we can just cuddle… come on!”

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It was funny when I thought he was joking and infuriating when he was being full of himself but this begging was just a total turn-off and I signed off, leaving him to look like a begging loser at the Reception desk.

Later that morning …

My head was pounding as I got onto the airport-bound shuttle and I was avoiding having to speak to anyone so I chose a window seat and put on my sunglasses in an attempt to be incognito. Yeah, right …

Bryce steps onto the shuttle, rocking that fro and good looks like he hadn’t spent the night partying or begging to be let into my room.

“Morning, Fazielah! Thanks so much for last night –that’s going to be one for the books!”, he announces to the entire f***ing shuttle and everyone whips their heads around to look at me, relishing this bit of gossip.

I could have killed him, I really could, but as it was, I was trying desperately not to throw up. I dragged Bryce down beside me in an effort to shut him up but which only served to validate his claims …f***!

Upon returning to the office the next day, the news of our “passionate one night stand” had spread through the office like wildfire, much to my chagrin and my boss’s dismay.

I might have learnt to get over it eventually, if it wasn’t for the fact that the reason he’d announced our supposed tryst was to hide the fact that he’d actually spent the rest of that fateful night in the room and embrace of a gay colleague…. Story of my f***ing life!

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

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

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

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

September 2007 …

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

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

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

Yes, I know, “Eeuwww, Mom!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 2014…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who’s the boss?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How I Met Your Father: The Unavailable Man

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

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

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

February 2013 …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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April 2015 …

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

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

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

somewhere out there

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

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

How I Met Your Father: 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…

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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 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!