KIDDO, LET'S GO.

I don’t think there is anything better than waking up next to someone and feeling that first emotion of a smile. Knowing that this person you wake up next to is a better half of you than you even know. For 3 years I’ve been waking up next to me. I greet myself with a smile and know that today, today it’s me with the world.

This is a little memo to myself, so bare with me as I kick my own ass into touch for the next 500 words.

Kiddo, when will you learn that you are allowed to make bad decisions? You are allowed to fuck up. Simple. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be that girl that has created a path of infinite adventurous opportunities that get you out of bed every morning. If you broke it, you sure bought it but let that souvenir remind you that, you should not do it again. So stop. Respect yourself to let things go that don’t make you happy, and if by some divine luck you’re able to change that, then trust your gut to know that you’re not pulling the wool over your own eyes.

Find routine. You’re not superman. You need to know when to stop and let the air touch your face. So get out of bed god dammit, 6am is when some people start work, and you should find that time as yours. Be quiet and be still, reflect on the day that’s about to embrace you and then, get your growing butt into gym. Sweat it out and feel that burn, you know how good you feel when you walk out of that muscle infested space. You feel alive. Give that to yourself - there is only one you. And I’d prefer it if you had a hot ass. Thanks.

My love, it’s time to get rid of the bad relationships in your life. You don’t deserve to suffer for the sake of someone else’s lack of vision. You will never be able to change them, they’re selfishly intertwined in their own life and the reason they keep taking you down with them is because you allow them. Stop this, it’s ruining you. You deserve a team mate, not an opposition. You deserve a best friend with a great penis, not an asshole with the right moves. You deserve someone that wants to be with you, every minute, not the guy that finds you 20 people down his WhatsApp list. Please be kind to your heart, and ditch the frown that once had a smile. When you laugh you make the world a happier place, I want to hear it more often.

Stop spending money on memories that last an hour. Start spending your money on memories that you can look back on as life experience. It’s silly really. Ok, maybe you do need a new pair of heels, but that’s because you live in Joburg and heels look good on you and when you look good, you are happy. Spend a little money on happiness. But put some away too, you’re healthy kid but you might not always be so, just think ahead.

Learn to prioritise your friendships. You have such a wonderful gift of making new friends, start following up with them. You have no reason to feel lonely. Check that contact list, gurl you got a lot of friends in there that may not be thinking about you all the time but sure would love to hear about your life in excuse for a glass of wine. We’re all just as scared of each other - break that ice and pour him/her another one.

And lastly, love your family. Yes, they’re a bunch of hooligans and yes, they’re not perfect. But nobody has a perfect family. You didn’t turn out too badly so they must have done something right. Call your Dad. Often. He’s not going to call you, remember you left, you need to keep him in the loop. He’s not around forever babe, he needs you, even for a laugh it’s reminding you where you came from. Get that head back down to earth please.

So Miss AdailyJem, You think you heard what I have to say this time? Live a life that makes you feel alive, the minute you start to doubt a decision, get the hell up and run. Run into the arms of a handsome stranger, and only let go when you feel you can feel that head of ours rationalise a dodgy situation. You’ve got this, we’ve got this. Now wake up!

Dear Future Husband - Day 177

Dear Future Husband, 

It's a Tuesday. The sun is shining down on the Joburg streets just as it so lovingly does every day in the summer. In the distance, just as you may be, a storm is rumbling softly. Awaiting it's perfect entrance to cool down the souls of the city. The year is 2014 and just as the year is starting to awaken to the possibilities of the next 351 days, so am I. 

I am not quite sure if this is the year I will meet you, but it's definitely a year I am preparing to let you in. My excitement of finally being ready to shake your hand, randomly bump into you, or steal your smile in a passing isle is overwhelming. I hope you will hear me laugh and run, (kidding), come looking for me, or offer to carry my bags as the effort of carrying them myself will seem too much of a task to let me. It's this random moment of connection that we have to meet. Any other way will ruin the perfect movie moment I have planned for us.

I know the first time we'll hold hands will be an awkward moment. The sweaty palm on palm scenario is a realistic one. You'll accidentally offer me a low five and I'll mistaken it for a "let's hold hands" moment. I think I will like that the most. Because you see, on reflection, you'll like that the most.

I don't want to plan our first kiss or even think about our first intimate moment, as that could go either way. I could hate it, it could be a fumbling disaster with an awkward silence to deafen the dead. And then I would have no option but to call you my Future Ex Husband.

However, before any intimacy happens, I cannot wait to go on an adventure with you. A week long road trip where the only sound is my singing voice softly blowing away in the wind. (Which you will softly thank the wind for blowing away). I cannot wait to climb mountains and discover new nooks in hidden highvelds. Run naked in the moonlight and cuddle under the stars to the backdrop of that movie soundtrack we once hated.

Can you imagine the first time I will say "I love you"? You'll probably mistaken it for a cough or not even notice as I will tell you in your sleep. I'll hide the fact that I am hopelessly devoted to you until I experience a moment of fear as we bungee off the Victoria Falls bridge. Then I doubt you'll ever be able to unhear it. 

So just to clear some things up, before my friends get a hold of my reputation, there are 5 things you need to know before you ask me to be your wife. 

1. I hate it when you order the same food as me. How am I suppose to steal some off your plate?

2. Even though I have quit smoking, I'll sneak a puff in the park when I walk the dogs and deny every moment as I walk into the house smelling like a perfume stand.

3. I'm writing this because secretly I hope I have already met you and this is just a heads up before I go all "I love you" on your ass. 

4. I really like it when you take the rubbish out.

5. I have never, ever, lied about being in a relationship. Not even that one time I got free drinks at that bar you thought I didn't go to.

Totally kidding about number 3. 

Future Husband all I ask is that you be kind, that you treat me with more respect than your mother. That you love me unconditionally, not everyday but most days. I hope we fight and disagree but always keep our values on the same path. Please give our kids the best possible advice and enjoy your life with me. I ask that you see me not as your wife, but your best friend. The other half of the avocado you wish you hadn't eaten. And if for any reason you want to leave, it'll be best if you fake your death or I'll do it for you. 

Right now, in this moment ( of clear deliriousness) I cannot wait to meet you. 

I hope your day is going well, and that you get home safe from work. I do kinda need you alive.

All my love, 

Your Future Wife

A letter to me - Day 92

Dear Me, 

Sorry I have forgotten about you for so long. The thing is, I think about you everyday but the words I have to say to you are hard for me to admit, a space I've grown through that needs a final exhale. 

They never tell you that moving to a new city has very HIGH, highs and super duper lows. They also don't tell you that even though you are a super, independent woman you will dream about having a special someone to share your morning finds and afternoon affirmations with. They say things like, 

"He is out there somewhere, you just need to be patient."

But I don't quite know where to find this somewhere where this someone is waiting for me. I am patient. ish. But what about right now? Is he standing at that somewhere just waiting? Or has he given up and settled for that second best?

I recently found myself in a place with a human, that wasn't me. It definitely wasn't that somewhere, that they speak of. He was a second best. And he made me feel like second best. Easily attainable for the smell of settling. Under the covers it was a glimpse of happiness I haven't felt in a while but resurfacing it made me feel used and uncertain of me. Affection was only found at the bottom of a beer bottle. It wasn't normal, nor nice. It became an obligation. It was unfair to expect someone to fuel my happiness. As much as he wasn't able to fuel his own, I was the one who came out bruised and hurt. 

People are not what they seem. People will do whatever it takes to feed their own desires, including using people as play things. I am guilty of such things. People as play things, it's honestly a terrible thought. Puppeteering emotions to taunt your joy button. I think you can tell if someone is unhappy by the way they share a life. I feel so stupid for letting him in. 

He got the best of me and I was saving that for someone else. 

There is a line I hear him say over and over in my head, sometimes I have to say it out loud to know that it's real. And that someone who shared my life with me could even say these things about me, the exterior of me. It's selfish and unfair. 

" Jemma is not physically attractive." 

My rant could go on, but I am done with him. I am done with the dirt he made me feel. I guess the most horrible thought I could imagine saying to him would be that he doesn't deserve happiness. Not until he finds it in himself. The truth is he doesn't deserve to be told either. His projection of me is up to him, but the BUT is, that if you feel like that towards someone you are with, you shouldn't be with them. Whatever your intention. 

I look at the relationships around me and I see light. I see gentlemen behaving like gentle humans towards their other halves. This is how it is supposed to be. So, I will wait, I will wait in my own somewhere for that someone. Everyone deserves a version of their own fairytales. 

I said to a dear friend the other day that has found herself in an incompatible union, 

"We dream of unicorns, those are the highest values we want in our lives, but on earth there are ponies, and they're pretty much the same thing."

I know this is just another check point in my life to a better me. So with one final breath of yet another bad human experience, I breath it all out and finally let him go.

All my love,

Me

A great read, for a great day. - Day 19

Today I have been in Joburg for 3 weeks. Dudes! THREE WHOLE WEEKS! Where did the time fly to? I have been in a thoughtful wonder what to write all day, until this literate gem swooshed through the airwaves onto my iPhone screen.

It's romantic, without trying to be. Real, yet disturbing and catapults you to the wonder.

Find ten minutes of your day to be insulted, angry, and in agreement, as this truer than true piece of literature unfolds your fantasies.

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl.

Date a girl who doesn't read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you've unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn't fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn't, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn't read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent of a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, goddamnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn't read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life.

- C. Warnke

Whoever you are C. Warnke, you deserve an applause. Thank you to my friend who knew that this would pull at my being-strings. It only makes me want to write better, and embrace being a reader.

Oh you are going to enjoy this - Day 16

I don't even know where to start.

First of all I am grateful for leaving my charger at the office over the weekend, because if I had written a blog post yesterday it would have been filled with butterflies, unicorns and sparkly pieces of my favourite emotions/emoticons. Because that's what successful dates do to a girl.

Oh my God.

This morning I walk into the office to a very happy looking colleague. I was equally pumped up on date endorphins, so entertaining anyone on my cloud nine was a must.

Monday had started off very well! *Let's all clap hands together!*

Me: "Heeeeey! Sooooo how was your weekend?"
Colleague: "It was great thanks, met this guy on Friday night and seemed to really hit it off. Saw him again yesterday for coffee - He seems like a really nice guy, BUT there is something that I can quite put my finger on."
Me: "That's awesome, I am sure it was just date jitters.. Sooo, funnily enough I also went on a date yesterday. Was a really fun arvi, haven't had such good convo like that in a while. And will probably see him again this week. Fuck FINALLY my bad luck is ending!"
Colleague: "haha, well apparently this guy knows half or our company and comes here often so I am sure you'll get to meet him."
Me: *Trying to hide a shocked face* "Um, what's his name?"
Colleague: "Name."
Me: " Oh. My. God. You said you saw him when? Yesterday??"
Colleague: "Yeah we went for coffee at 2.30pm in Parkhurst"
Me: "So you were his 2.30pm and I was his 4pm. IN Parkhurst! Not even in a different suburb, the same suburb, fuck, the SAME street. Areyoueffingkiddingme. Unbelievable"
Colleague: " OH MY GOD."

Now guys, like yes, YOU men, mean, men species. C'mon. Surely if you know both the girls you decided to entertain and you KNOW that they sit next to each other in the same office, and that they WILL talk - you would like to be a bit less obvious? Eyydunno.. Just a suggestion? Perhaps I have this all screwed up, and that maybe you suffered from some sort of memory loss walking from one restaurant to the other. Who the fuck knows, you are a royal idiot.

Now I have always had this agreement that you are allowed to date numerous people at the same time (See: Date, NOT bang!). Hey, single life is hard enough and you should never put all your eggs in one basket until those eggs are delivered to your door with a big heart shaped bow. Hek, I have a date tomorrow with a different guy, doesn't mean I am a playa. I am just enjoying new city life with new people. So this would be ok. But what's not okay is that, if you generally know that two girls are friends, they work together, let alone sit next to each other, WHY on EARTH would you be such a stupid dick? Look, I admire the "Playa" game, there are some real winners out there that get it right. But this is just plain stupidity. You are letting your 'playa' club down man.

The bottom line is, excuse me for fixating on this one area, but OBVIOUSLY two FRIENDS are going to talk, and you, Mr shit-where-you-eat, have to walk into our offices and see both of us - what do you think is going to transpire? I just don't get it?

I think overall I am just generally really disappointed that I had this, '*Air punch!* Successful date in the bag!' champion moment. When I should have just said, "Up your ziggy with a wawa brush".

Cupid, you son-of-a-bitch.

WTF Wednesday - Day 14

Some days are good days other days are just, days. Then you get those days that are so freaking up and down that you can't help but giggle as your head hits the pillow.

Yesterday, you gloriously emotional bastard.

My last post was about me, (as if you hadn't figured it out) and my latest crush. Me taking a chance at something. The imagery of a dog leaping and bounding as it welcomes home it's owner describes what was going through my mind. Happy thoughts like the Sound of Music and The Little Mermaid singing in her cave… Happy, happy thoughts.

Yoh, guys, word of advice. Don't build anything up, EVER. Because unfortunately that delight of owning up my heart, was quickly brought down to earth by the, FRIEND card.

Ohhh. Burn.

Yes, yes, you are allowed to have a good giggle.

But wait, there is more…

So after I received my email of rejection. (Just kidding Email Sender, it was put wittingly well), I drove home feeling extremely homesick and missing my friends. I needed a bottle of wine to console my aching heart… (okay, okay enough now it wasn't so bad - *whale sobs!*).
As I reached the first set of lights the traffic started. Holy chicken feet, for as far as I could see up Rivonia Drive it was piled. Urg, just what I needed - my bottle of wine so close but so, so far. It took me an hour to get home for a normal 20 minute drive. Dis-gusting.

Given that hour in the traffic, the radio soothed my broken heart by playing every single fucking love song from the 90s. Hi, Mariah, yeah I know a hero will never come along, thanks Whitney but he doesn't always love me, and no R.Kelly there won't be any Bump 'N Grind but thanks for rubbing it in though. As you can imagine, when I swung open my flat door to see my bottle of wine consumed from the night before it was, "Tragedy".

Ahh but yes, a few minutes from pointing at my bottle of wine and shouting "why! WHHHY!" my lovely Flattie walked in and promptly whisked me away to our favourite greek restaurant up the road. Yes, there was wine and yes, there was talk of off loading about stupid boys but it all soothed down to giggles about real life shit. Until this happened.

So I am not one to dwell on ex's, what's done is done and the heart pains but you get over it and swim back to the surface feeling more alive and more truer you than ever. But, when the love of your life, now married love of your life walks into the same restaurant as you after 3 years, glances your way and doesn't recognize you. Daily dears, you have two choices: 1. You steer your shocked face in an opposite direction and stare frightfully into your wine Or 2. Shout his name, smile, get up and fake a "Oh my gosh it's sooo good to see you" adult voice that really couldn't give a flying duck.

What option did I go for? Option number two. Seriously after THIS day, my shocked face turned into a 'What the fuck, seriously, universe are you effing kidding me, this is not happening' kind of face. Yes, it's the face that you get when you're pretending not to wee in a pool.

It went well, it was awkwaaard, but it ended in a smooth exit from him with the last words, "We should totally have drinks soon." and me nodding my head in a agreement, shouting inward, "not a fuck".

Overall, to wrap it up. I will be very happy to never see another Wednesday like that again.

ps. Thursday has been amazing. Oh and I got to see the real life Jake Gyllenhaal.

Booya!

You know what I am talking about. - Day 13

You control your own happiness.

But then along comes someone that flips it on it's side and completely messes with your mind.
It's been a fascinating day, a lot of deep thoughts and finding myself in equally deep conversations. For a Monday it sure has shown what it thinks of the rest of the week. Middle finger up.

First of all, let's get this straight. Men and woman think differently. Why? Because they ARE different. There is no simpler way to describe it. Trying to figure out why a man acts in a certain way is just going to waste your thought space. If he digs you, he'll show you. If he wants to talk to you, he'll talk to you. And if he wants to get into your pants, by God he will find a way.

Yes, from a female point of view it's a selfish action.

And, no, most probably, you won't have a say.

Then there are those, oh Jesus, there are those that well, are different. The 'I don't play by the rules' Mike. Their rules, are goals, no woman nor invitation of romance can step on this guys path to greatness. Of course you want to date him, just look at him. Successful, head strong, caring, knows what he want's type of guy. But you, fearless female are not on his goal posts. This type of guy will lead you straight down a path to confusion-ville. Why? Because he is the nice guy, he really is quite oblivious to your intentions and will play that friend card so well you will feel like you are half way there.

I try not to play games, it's not in 'my' rule book. I've lead a very happy single life for almost 2 years, found great friendships with guys and well become, to my shocked face realization, the girl friend, girl. I am sorry, but this is NOT who I am, of course I want a relationship? Just because I am 100% happy with being Jemma, doesn't mean that Dr Dashing can't claim a shelf.

I am a great believer in manifestation. I put my order in 'upstairs' and most of the time I get what I want. This time however my MAN-ifestation is in front of me, so ridiculously tangible yet unattainable. Is this my fault? Have I been handing out this friend card in fear of something real happening? I think any girl reading this knows exactly how I feel, one step out of the comfort zone and it's all yes, YES or the probability of a no. Fucking hell.

So then I circle back to the men and women are different. Men, not so much the Michelangelo thinker. Women, scenarios of circumstances that are enough to drive us crazy. But it's our own fault. We string along a pleasurable fantasy completely oblivious to the opposite sex, in fear of living a pleasurable reality. Where really we should MAN up and say, "I dig you, wanna date?".

Life, among other things...

Let's talk about taking chances. How many of you out there have done something so out of your shell that it shocked those around you? Did it work out to be one of the most awesome experiences of your life? I bet it did.

I am turning 25 this year. Yes, I am still viewed as a little girl with many more experiences to encounter but jeez man, I am fully wide awake to the fact that in FIVE years I will be THIRTY. Five years is not a whole lot of time to take chances and 'fingers crossed' decide what I want to do with the rest of my life. But, is it ok to sometimes think, "What if I don't have it all figured out by then?" Will I be thirty, still single? Happily single? Married?! Working a job I only half love? Will I even have a job?! Would I have set up a house in SA? Will I even be in SA? And scarily of all, will I even be alive?

Have you ever looked back on your life and gone, I didn't do that. I would NEVER have done that, but you did. It wasn't dejavu honey, it was frikken real. It seems like everyday that I see my 20 year old self, her carelessness, her utter joy out of life and think, gosh she really did have it all sorted out. What happened? Well, one big regret happened, one which would have probably changed where I am today.

Taking chances with love. Two years ago I applied for a position as Beauty Editor at very well known international teen publication. I was tired of Durban, and ready for a move, a change, an opportunity to grow my talent. I flew to Cape Town, knowing that an interview over Skype would have sufficed but I needed this. So I took a chance. During this time I had met a guy in Durban and fallen head over heels in lust. He knew about this job opportunity and supported my decision. But, his support was littered with selfishness.

I got the job. I got the job I had dreamed about, a one way ticket to a door that was lying open waiting for me to walk in and I turned it down. I turned it down for a one month old relationship that had me clouded over in little smoke bombs of lust.

Eight Months later we ended it. I was jobless, single and heart broken. With no flashing red arrow pointing me in any direction.

The moral to this life experience still haunts me today, as I know that I broke down a lot of bridges whilst taking that chance. But, (there always has to be a but in a good and bad situation) I learnt one thing that will forever carve the path I walk on. Never give up something that will better you for the sake of another person. If that person loves you enough, you will find a way to work it out. Take a chance on your own life, not someone else's.

So here's to the next five years. May it be spontaneous, eventful and may I have at least taken one chance on my own life that will change it forever.

Very-Not-Cool Day

Valentine's Day, hey? I don't think I have ever been so fully aware of how this day could make me feel like the ONLY single person on earth.

First of all, this is the first year that I have been totally consumed with Social Media, and with that comes days like tomorrow, totally over tweeted, loved up statuses and not so avoidable polls. What's even more depressing is that I too have to come up with some of that soppy love crap that is saturating your News Feeds. Tres Desole my single friends.

Then secondly, there is working in an office that is literally in a shopping centre. I have had to re-route my lunch time walk to Spar to avoid such things as red lacy bits slapping me in the face at every turn. My chocolate cravings have turned into "urg" moments as the "I Love You" slogans have just put me off and I won't even talk about the fashion; half those shades of red DO NOT EVEN EXSIST!

What exactly am I going to do about tomorrow? I am so un-desperately single, but so desperately aware of it I wish I could hire a few extra heart beats for the night. However, it is just ONE day. One day of the year that a male is actually allowed to show his romantic side, and all this love merchandise it suppose to make it easier for him to choose his love status. (Hi, Guys - that not-so-sexy T-string in a slightly off shade of orange/red is not a good way to ask for some. Hint: Roses are your best deal sealers.)

So, do I give you honeymooners a chance at enjoying this day? Will I listen to some Whitney (RIP), buy a box of totally cliche heart shaped chocolates and promise myself that I won't be single next year on this day, for the sake of doing it alone again? Yes I shall. Please, enjoy it, get some, use protection and fall in love. Urg.

It's a 3-Way

There is one rule I have for a relationship.

THE RULE#

Never be a third of a relationship

In these days of BBM and WhatsApp it is so easy to get hold of people, throw a comment out into the air at any whip of the tongue, make a friend, break a friend, you get the drift. And what comes with this is, it has not become immoral to add your girlfriend’s boyfriend, your bro’s ho, your toy boy’s mama bear or your sister’s shag to your contacts. You are just widening your friendship circle right? Oh no you are not. You are being a nosey, brown nose parker.

What is this situation that I find myself making up such a rule?

 The Situation:

I have a friend who is dating this great guy but to be honest they both quite useless at the whole relationship thing. Next minute I get a request on the BBM, it is her bf. Now morally I am going, hells no! I don’t want to be the middleman. But curiosity is saying… mmm, Accept! Now I just entered myself into a whirlwind of backwards and forwards, what did he say, what did she say, what do I do in this situation, does she love me etc. etc. etc. bla bla bla. Pull hair out. Throw phone out window. Pick it up and carry on.. “Dear Tom, She loves you, you are just being too needy and she wants some space… “.

What feelings am I left with? I feel like I am cheating on my friend.

Why is it easier to come to me rather than to go to her when times are of unstable ground? Am I the cop out of some heated argument that they would rather bypass? If so, grow some balls Chickitas and Manginas! All the information you want to know about each other is right on the other end of the phone, across the street and in your face.

Ask them what’s wrong, not me. I love you but honestly, I don’t care about your personal relationship issues. No one should. Just you.

End of story.

Rubber Band Theory

What is this rubber band theory? The ‘let me go so I come running back’ scenario. I don’t think I like it much. Especially when it was used on me, or currently is at this very moment. No I will not chase after you. I don’t do that, do I?

So to explain the Rubber Band Theory is supposed to work in blossoming relationships. To keep him interested and wanting more:

Act one, scene one

Girl and boy having been seeing each other, it is going quite well until boy gets a little scared (no other explanation other than this) and stops seeing girl. Girl gets confused and boy is left with 17000 miss calls on his mobile. Girl thinks this over and tries a different approach. Girl sits back and waits. No more calls to boy, boy must do, as he wants.

Now boy gets confused and realises that he does like this girl and why has she not phoned him in 24 hours, he thinks this is mighty strange. So boy calls girl, girl ignores call, boy is left scratching his head.

“I thought this girl was into me”, he ponders. Still scratching his head he comes up with a plan. Light bulb! He’s got it!

Boy goes over to girls house with flowers, knocks on girl’s door to find that she is not home. Now boy really wants to see girl.

So boy digs deep down into his emergency box for romantic ideas. The box is full of dust and boy has forgotten how to use it. Eventually after much effort he slips it open and to his surprise…

Surprise!

…there are a lot of romantic ideas in there, why did he not think of this before?

So, boy finds girl, takes girl on romantic dinner and tells her that he was stupid and that they really belong with each other.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Guys, you are masters of the Rubber Band Theory. This is not because you know of this theory, you are just too busy living life to let a chick come in and smother it.

Us girls, we hate this by the way. We want you to smother and tell us that you love us. Not pretend that you don’t care. (Even though we know you just don’t know any better). So when you actually do it on purpose, it fucks us off. Sorry but that is the way it is. We are the ones coming up with silly scenarios that work on you, not the other way around.

Please go back to kicking your ball and let us do the ignoring. We are the complicated creatures not you simple-minded fools.

Thank you.

Make Me a Metro-Man

So what attracts a woman to a man these days? His smiling blue eyes? A hint of ‘I work out’ rippling out of his t-shirt? It seems none of the above are even making headway with woman these days. With society screaming “How to look good naked”, “How do I look” and even “Extreme Makeover, Home edition” it is easy to see how woman are starting to indulge into their, as you would call it, little ‘projects’. Welcome to the decade of, “Wow, He’s got potential!”

I have a friend that swears by making use with what you have, and as she puts it, there are far too many plain James’ out there that need a little attention. So what does she do, date to decorate.

Women are independent creatures, in the work place, home and even in the dating scene. As much as men hate to see this happen, hello boys, we can even change a tyre without your help. So it is no wonder such games of ‘dressing him up in your wardrobe’ are fast becoming a trend. (This doesn’t apply to all your Metrosexual men out there, not even ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’ can’t touch those pedi’s!).

So I’ll never forget the day I met my friends ‘mediocre man’. He was good looking but there was plenty room for improvement. His t-shirt looked like it had been stolen off Led Zeppelin’s tour bus and his shaggy blonde hair stuck to his face like he had just run a marathon. Not even the 16 year old me would have brought that back to my parents, but yes, there was something sexy about him.

A year later I bumped into her again, this time a different mediocre man by her side. Asking what happen to number one. She tapped open her Blackberry and gushed as she showed me the now married, Hunk-asourus. Chiselled abs (which apparently were there silently living under Mr zeppelin’s shirt all along), neatly cut hair and boy oh boy, a completely different man. Asking why it didn’t work out between them, she honestly confessed, “There was nothing left for me to fix”.

Fashion is an ever evolving, completely irritating superficial aspect of life, yet we cannot live without it. It is not that women are creating mini models of Tom Ford to wear as accessories but just taking what looks good and updating his look – it is not called arm candy for nothing. With the right t-shirt, fitted jeans and a little work on his hair any man can be made to look more visually stimulating. It is not about changing him completely but making sure the package (yes, girls even the ‘package’) looks good.

So where does this start to get messy? Women by nature are emotional movers. For example, just as Weatherly’s receives their new spring range our living room gets a makeover, you get dumped and you go into interior overhaul. We like to know that we can still control some aspect of our life. But how do you instill control if you are messing with matters of the heart? – The unspoken emotional attachment between men and women could be the difference between your Gucci and Graham.

Relationship Status!

So when you meet a guy and fall in lustville love your mind goes into possible relationship material mode, the first opportunity we get to tell the world is, well, Status update!! Facebook. Not even our mums get the phone call of honour to say that you have now found another hunkasourus to add to the list of gene pool possible’s.

I don’t know what it is about sharing with the world that your now ‘Single’ status is going to be magically transferred into ‘In a relationship with’ with one click of a button and made ‘Top News’ on yours and millions of other’s Home pages. What are these feelings? A little bit of spite to your long time crush, that now you are taken? A message to that ‘other’ woman that keeps writing on his Wall? An overwhelming feeling of joy that now you will probably get more Wall action since your birthday? If one of these or all of the above hits that ‘I am guilty’ spot, then you are not alone.

During your text’allating relationship between you, him and Facebook, little love message float to and from your Wall’s. Just keeping tabs on all those beady eyes that you know will snatch him up in a sec when that Single button is pressed. Or is it that we just want to reassure the world that yes, we still are in a relationship and look how happy we are.

The meaning of Social media is not to make your life easier it is to ensure that you make everyone else’s. Your relationship is not judged between you and him, but with everyone that sits and watches. Why should someone bother to flirt when you come online if he knows you taken? That little Relationship tab is there for his convenience, not yours. Men don’t even ask for your number anymore, Full name please. That way they know exactly what type of person you are. Convenience.

So what happens when you break up? Oh heartache! That’s what it is. Do you know what Facebook tells you when you change your status to Single? “Your Relationship with *his name here* will be cancelled upon saving” Seriously?! Thanks Facebook for being to courteous to my broken heart! It doesn’t even give you the option of ‘*his name here* broke up with *my name here*’. It just simply states with its little red heart ‘you are now single’. Convenient? Not when you know have to tell the world what happened, who did who, bla bla bla. And you know what is even worse is that you get to sit and watch all HIS Facebook vultures; ‘Shame’ and ‘ahh, sorry’ and ‘I’ll be there for you’ while you sit in a puddle of your own woeful words.

Anyways, after we go through yet another break up we vow to never let another relationship be posted for someone else’s enjoyment. Pity we are all Facebook addicts and our relationships are an open book for everyone’s enjoyment. That reminds me, I am going on a date tonight – Status update!

The "OH SHIT" Moment

So I have given up using the word love.

It gets you into trouble and generally tricks your mind into actually feeling it. I have loved. I have loved in many different ways. I think the worst kind of love is obligated love – the kind you just say for the sake of saying. Not to let the other person down or thinking that it is love, an over bearing sensation of lust.

The best kind of love is unexpected love. At the end of a telephone conversation that just pops out "love you", or at a surprised gift "oh my god I love you". Doesn’t it always seem these unexpected ‘loves’ are all said to the wrong person. A crush that did something out of the kindness of his own heart(not because he loves you, or that you would want him to know you love him), or the guy friend you not that interested in. This I like to call ‘blind love’, you know the kind that makes you think ‘oh how blind’.

So with that feeling of ‘how blind’, lets talk how blind I am and how ‘in like’ my blindness is. Have you ever ‘liked’ someone without knowing it and suddenly this thought daunts on you and you are like ‘oh my god, I like him. No, I really, really like him. This is terrible!’. A ‘like’ that could never work but just seems to, work. I am astounded to have found myself in this situation.

One week after a break up and I am in deep, ‘like’. Call it shit if you will, but this feeling has the same comparison to that. So this person. This person that was nobody to me has turned into a somebody. From a Hi Tek takkie to a 5 All star. Do you think this happens often? That a nobody that sits in the corner to be regarded as a wall flower can come out to actually be that somebody that you really, really like? I don’t want to make him seem like a dork, and by a nobody I mean an untouchable – the type of person you would never think to really notice for the sake of your present somebody to notice you noticing that nobody. You see it is even that complicated in my mind, even if I were using names it would be just as complicated.

This is school book ‘like’. A silly infatuation that, will not go away! So quick out a ‘grown up’ relationship and I am already feeling those ill feelings of: does he like me? Do I tell him? Do I wait? Has he even noticed me like that? Or as a friend always said to me, “give it time and that too shall pass”. URGGGH!!! Two glasses of wine and Eat.Pray.Love shall do this to you. I need help.

Date, Date, Date...

When I look back at relationships I have had, (too many diamonds to fit on ten fingers) the part that really makes me nostalgic to date again are those first two weeks of bliss. I have never been on a honeymoon but I can tell you that if a honeymoon feels as good as another ‘cant wait to see him again’ moment, I would like to be a newlywed every weekend. So I cant exactly vouch for the saying ‘honeymoon period’ but god I hope I get to go on one all year long.

There is a feeling of meeting your soul mate, first summer fling or just a random bar pick up to send you into the spiral of ‘ will he, wont he call again’. This feeling of waiting, watching your phone, keeping it on full charge and just calling a friend just to let you know that your phone still works, that keeps us wanting more. You know that you probably will still feel that pang of a slight chip off the heart if he doesn’t call after two days ( when we all well know that the three day rule is firmly in place). But still we wait. We wait for the inevitable, heartbreak moment. As being woman and as much as society has said, he probably wont call.
So what do we do? Just as any equestrian or alcoholic would say, get back on that horse and order another drink.

The more you date the less you feel like the whole phone call thing really matters. Which if you, like me dated the earth and all its lovely specimens then you would know why. Feelings tend to soften and fun and flirty replaces the novice: check-that-my-pout-still-works-in-its-glossy-Mac. You tend to start enjoying every moment with its up and downs, Mr Price Jeans or Diamante encrusted Guess Tees. You actually start seeing men as people. (Wow I actually said that?) So eventually amongst all these ‘people’ you start to discover who or what your Person should be.

So how do you know if you don’t try? There are still always going to be those butterflies for the next date but imagine taking home a butterfly that never flies away? As the saying goes it is better to have loved and lost than to never love at all. This is what keeps me going… and my little Dating shoes of course.

You Are Not In Highschool Anymore

Have you ever noticed that the older you get the less fun relationships are?

When you are young you cant drive, you don’t have a bank account with things to pay off. You get pocket money and can basically live a stress free life. Regarded school exams aren’t around the corner. Relationships become your weekends and without even knowing it you can fall effortlessly in love. All you know is the fun and romance and when it comes down to making the decisions, which movie to see is the toughest one you have to make.

So when did the ease and free flowing love intercept us and replace those feelings with responsibility? When did talking till three in the morning become a hushed “where are you going?” when I take the dog out? And when did that accidental boob graze that got us so hot and bothered get replaced with “ I’ve got a headache?” It seems as though we have tainted our own desires and the effort to grow up so fast has left us with gaps in our relationships.

My advice to myself, and to anyone that will listen, is taking it slow. Enjoy the honeymoon phase and if you respect your relationship as much as your happiness to be in a relationship you could see that honeymoon phase last. Being in love and sharing your life with another person is probably the most amazing gift that could be given to anyone. Appreciate every bit. Take days off to forget those payments, your ugly boss and go have a “ to be sixteen again day”. Hold hands, go watch a movie, hey find a playground and jump in a sandpit. Only through true happiness you will find your true self. Remember that guy that you first met, that blew you away with his smile? He is still there.

A Serious Topic

What is it about us super women that send men running back to their bromances after a fun hook up? Apparently he hears ‘fun hook up’ translated as ‘ I am looking for a relationship and I want to have your babies, lets get serious’. This could probably be the reason men/boys/dudes don’t phone or call after a night out. Fun to them means fun. But when they do call, us silly girls go into a panic and yes, our built in girl thoughts start thinking long term and what it would be like to have you around all the time. Most times however these thoughts dissipate as the whole fun hook up thing only really happens with guys we wouldn’t necessarily go for. A daring act of drunken debauchery.

So this has been happening to me a lot lately when hooking up with the guy. He will call the next day and arrange a second ‘meeting’, sms his little heart out, get in my good books and then after a good couple of days of ‘fun’ will pull the ‘ I am not looking for anything serious, just by the way.’ Card. Tell me something boys – where have I ever said that you were the one for me, the only ONE, my shining night of amour. Can you believe that I too just want some fun? But then again girls cannot have fun. Random hook up’s lead to labels such as ‘slutty mcslut face’, ‘ the whore who wants more’ or my favourite: Easy.

Where is this middle ground? Which Serious Sarah out there screwed it up for all of us by damaging the beautiful nation of our boy’s minds?

A friend once told me about how he used the whole ‘serious’ vibe to make the girl he liked work harder for him. A way to seem nonchalant and hard to get. This obviously worked as she didn’t give up and now they are in a SERIOUS relationship and to add, madly in love. I don’t know about you but as soon as a guy gives me the serious finger I tend to give him a zap back to reality.

Rules on one-night hook ups:

(These are generally known, but most times forgotten in the act)

- BOYS: Don’t waste our time with asking for numbers unless you are going to call. This makes the next day hell. Is he calling or isn’t he?

- GIRLS: If he wants your number. Get his instead. That way you have a night to think about your choices. Taking Tattoo Travis back to your mom may not be the best idea.

- BOYS: We get that dance floors and shooter bars are not the ideal place to meet our husband. Relax we are here to have fun.

- GIRLS: Buy him a drink. Take charge of the fun. Being a ‘fun chick’ automatically cancels out the ‘slut’ label you could get. Being talked about as the ‘rad chick he hooked up with last night’ totally beats the ‘sloppy drunk I grinded on the dance floor’.

- BOYS: If you want to come home with us, don’t ask to come have ‘tea’. Cos you will probably just get tea. We know what ‘tea’ means. Dorks.

- GIRLS: Go to his place. Always his place. Easy escape when the fun is done.

How Bad Can a Date Be?

The first sign that this was going to be a bad date was when it took him three weeks to take me out in public. Bedroom is fine. Kitchen I can deal with. Only coming over after dark… well he was busy during the day, ok?

 So with a romantic evening planned ahead I dawned on my patent heels and little black number. Hair straightened, perfume sprayed and make up perfected. A hot little piece of ass I thought I was.

Knock, knock on the door and a smile was greeted by:

“um, oh hi.. oh you still need time to change?’ from me.

“Nope bru, let’s vaai” from him.

Looking at this creature that God could’ve only created to humour me. It was standing in a wife beater, Baggy-Eminem-grab-your-crotch Jeans and…Slip slops. Slip slops. Slip slops.

Ok I can deal with this. Don’t Judge.

Enter Hemingways. After a drive that theoretically should’ve taken 15 mins to get there, we arrived (surprisingly not with a handbrake turn), in our parking in 4mins 32 secs.

The restaurant was small, cosy, romantic. Not for the trailer trash I was about to drag in. Chivalry died in the car.

Sit. Order. What would I like? Don’t worry you may order for yourself first. My turn? Bottle of Rose. Yes, One glass. Wow you are quite a pretty waitress aren’t you? And you are flirting with Mr Sloppy. Good girl! Buzz, buzz, buzz… phone vibrations in my pocket. Thank God! And as I was about to open up the ‘Get out of this date fast message’ he snatched my phone from me. Opened the window and put it on the landing outside. And closed the window again! Ha ha. Not funny Sloppy.

“Please give my phone back”

“Uh, no”

“Seriously, give it back”

“That was very rude of you to take your phone out when you have company, sweetheart”

Oh I am sorry ‘sweetheart’ I don’t think I got the memo that this was a polite date and that the company I kept even knew what a cellphone was, Bru.

Silence.

Sloppy, “ If you want it, go fetch it yourself.”

Under breath, ”Wanker.”

Dinner. Good. Besides taking 15mins to pay the bill and only to be described as ‘sloppy flirting’ with the pretty waitress.

Post dinner we scumbled off to a gig that was happening down the road. Enter me and with a quick “I am going to find my friends” goodbye, I put on my speed shoes. Only to be found 30 mins later with an arm grab and a welcoming:

“Where the hell have you been? You are my date tonight and you will stay by my side the whole night. Now lets go. We are meeting my chinas for drinks.”

Dragged by the upper arm I shuffled to the car.

Cubana. A smart place. Dress shoes and collars only. Yet he gave every bouncer a full swing of his sick puppies. With the foul language and bat swings with which much to my humorless self was quite funny. He did not give up. He even used the Girlfriend card:

“Can’t you see my Girlfriend wants a drink? I want to talk to the manager”

At that point the bouncer even offered to drive me home. Bless him. And so stupid was I to say no.

And that night ended with a ‘friendly’ punch on the arm for not paying attention to him at another bar and a (finally) persuasive “lets go home” from me.

In the parking lot of his place.

“You coming up?”

“ Fuck off.”

Seriously.

All American Cowboy Boots

Never bite the hand that feeds you. Don’t crap on your own doorstep. And most importantly – do not fraternise with staff. Listen to me. However the sayings go – sometimes they are based on real life events of people, like me, that have thought some ideas are better played out than left in the very wise book of ‘Very Wise Thoughts To Not Try At Home, by the great authors of Very Wise People’.

I have this very cool, super local fish bowl I like to swim in. For some reason however I never thought that barmen were a ‘no-go zone’.  Especially since Texas was foreign and kinda cute (I had beer goggles on most of the time). Anyways what are the chances that in such a small town one could find an out of Towner from a place that has captured all my dreams. Cowboys = My cloud 9. A real life cowboy with a deep southern drawl AND that can ride AND that’s really from Texas, oh AND did I mention a US Marine? = My slip n slide into heaven.

As you have guessed I am a sucker for an accent and have dabbled a little in the pond of men in uniforms. *sigh*. A barman. Easy target and God help me it was too easy. No offence to Americans but Jesus ya’ll talk way too much. You said I was so easy to talk to – but that’s cuz I could never say anything! Have a seat. Sip your beer.  IT… IS… NOT… ALL… ABOUT… YOU. I honestly was about to fake my own death if you told me about your mamma one more time. But would you notice? I heard that story once. Interesting the first time. Second time flies started to gather around me. Third time – yeah… pretty much brain dead sheriff.

Women have this power of over looking small boulders about men they lust after. Texas was divorced. Had proposed 3 times(different women) and a tad slow. Mmm… how it is possible to over look such minor detail. YOU TOSS ROCKET! I had had enough. I left and went back to the fish bowl. Same fish same bowl but this time I had his shift list stuck on my dashboard. Wednesday night, good to go. I hear he is going back soon. I miss my Monday night reg makers.

Sorry Texas. I told you I wasn’t a very nice girl.