Mirror , mirror…

Riley & Company Funny Bones Cling Mounted Stamp Deja Poo Definition

Some days are for comedy…Some are for tragedy…

They say opposites attract and, in most cases, it is true.

Fire and ice, oil and water, wind and earth, Linton and Earnshaw, strength and weakness, you and him. Paired items, whether they go together or not.

But, what happens when you are attracted to someone who is exactly the same as you are? Your mirror image? The carving out of the same stone? When the man you are staring at, talking to, reaching for, falling for, is the gender opposite version of you?

I met such a man (I mentioned in a previous post a man I sparked with, this was him). The chemistry was explosive, reactive and like nothing I have experienced in my life prior to my meeting him and he had a personality to match.

In his responses to life, I found my own; in his handling of people, I found my actions mirrored; and, for some time, this was a comfort and my attraction to him intensified and my emotions deepened.

Then I saw it…

The flight.

That moment when you look at the other person and know you are no longer theirs. That moment where the hold is released and, where you once stood on solid ground, you find yourself drowning.

You can’t belong to them, you won’t, because you can’t. In that moment, it’s not about the other person, it is about you. You, can’t commit; you, can’t be fair; you, can’t.

This time, the look was not my own. It belonged to him and I recognized it because it once belonged to me – the look of the flight.

I have given this look many a time, with the same reassuring smile and a distance unreachable in my eyes. I recognized this look. I had given this look and now I was receiving this look.

And, for the first time in my life, I hurt.

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Winter Wonderland 

  
While my Instagram fills up with images of the beach and tanned bodies, South Africa is enwrapped in the icy breath of winter. Sure, it hasn’t been THAT cold but when the evening comes and I’m wrapped in a blanket in front of the heater, I can tell you those instagram pics become even more desirable. 

 While summer is synonymous with summer flings and holiday romances, I am stuck in a winter cavern of boyfriends and cuddle buddies, with the often heard “sorry, I’m staying in with my boyfriend” line from most of your girlfriends. How was I not aware there was a seasonal transition from single to taken? All of a sudden people are holding hands and being exclusive whilst last week they were Yolo-ing the tequila shots at a bar full of singles.

Maybe if I got the memo before, I would have secretly attached myself to one of these winter wonderland boyfriends, whose sole purpose is to entertain in the winter months and probably be left in the summer for a more suitable seasonal transition- single. 

Who would have thought dating is as seasonal as fashion trends (now, there’s something I could relate to) 

Technology: the villain 

  
I’m a great fan of technology, the way in which it connects people from one dimension to another and its allowance to be in constant contact with anyone in the world without tedious efforts or extensive procedures.
However, technology has a dark side, like someone in batman once said ” you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain.” Such was the case when I was casually scrolling through my various platforms of media ( I admit, I have far too many apps and social media pages ) and while checking LinkedIn (out of all pages) I mistakenly (honestly, this time) touched my exes page (damn touch screens! Damn iPads! And damn super sensitivity!). All of which is fine, except LinkedIn has a super awesome (dripping with sarcasm right here) feature that sends every person a notification as to who looked at their page… I died! 
I’m afraid to say I’ve seen technology become the villain, why had I not given it up sooner and allowed It to bask in the glorious-ness of being an all-connecting hero, why???? …but no! Instead I click just anything.

You’re welcome ex of mine, now spend your day thinking that I was thinking of you. My pleasure (I won’t lie, I am finding it funny as well) 

“Don’t worry, the right one will come along.” 


It is peculiar that when you’re in a relationship there is no question as to why you are in one, unless you constantly complain out loud, and even then there is suitable defense for it. However, should you find yourself happily swimming in the single pool, your single lifestyle is questioned beginning with why and then ending on a “don’t worry, the right one will come along”, and often said by strangers, people of the unknown who have no clue who I am or why I am (entitled much?).

Wait! I wasn’t worried. At all! I was having fun swimming along the single pool much like Dory and enjoying the adventures that were bestowed upon my path….now I have to worry? I’m confused.

Yes, I would like a relationship at some point, but with a degree almost completed, a fashion internship that is just beginning and a renewed passion for outdoor activities and sport ( best I look good naked, me thinks), I can’t say it is my number one priority, nor can I say I was worried about it.

Thank you stranger, you have added a dimension to dating I wasn’t aware of, but I refuse to immerse myself in your world of worry and instead, like Dory, I shall just keep swimming thanks.

Sparks, fireworks and a sizzle 


I sparked! For real! Now, a spark with someone is that cosmic moment where the world falls into utter chaos around you but you’re standing still and it all makes sense (I have a slight flair for the dramatic, I admit). In this moment things are infinite, problems are obsolete and the heart begins to thaw from its icy cavern.

This was the case one evening when I went to my local watering hole after a long and tedious exam period. He was tall, handsome and charming…and, of course, I dismissed him the minute he said hi (must be some sort of a defense mechanism). However ,my friend would not stand for it and somehow got him to join our social circle. We spoke a bit, laughed and danced. Add a bit of whiskey and I was smitten. But, this was nothing compared to the kiss goodnight; that parting moment when you’re unsure whether you will ever get to see this person again, and so we kissed. And boy! Did we kiss!

That’s when the spark turned into a freaking firework display of such a grand magnitude Gatsby would be jealous (wow, I’m full of cliches today – I suppose there is a reason they are cliches). We parted, and the thought of him lingers…. Hmmm, I wonder if I will hear from sparky ever again?

On your marks, get sex, GO! 


There are those dates that finally make you believe in the betterment of humanity, as if all asshole reactions and dimensions cease to exist and, in that moment, a future with a man seems possible.
The words flow in cohesions, laughter is contagious and there is an enchantment in the interaction between two once strangers. A familiarity is developed and you’re excited for the untapped potential.

Days, turn into more days, and the conversation goes from flirtatious to ” what are you wearing?”, “send a pic ;)”, “ooh, you took a bath, hoping for a pic” , now I’m all for a bit of suggestion but sometimes I wish people could just get to know each other without them first. I’m no prude by any definition of the word, but within me, lies a traditional spirit that longs for an interactions beyond the physical realm.

This was the case of Mr. accountant. While accountants have a notorious reputation for lack of personality, this one had an abundance of it. It was fantastic, one drink turned into two and conversations were memorable. I kept him on a friendly level, and simply enjoyed his company. Then one evening, I’m assuming he was drunk, I get messages of a sexual tone. This would be alright I suppose, if we had been sexual, we had not. In a culture of hook-ups and a fuck and chuck mentality, I’m finding interactions to lose meaning and have found I treat every man the same. Once the sexual messages were sent I was no longer interested, little did he know if he had not I probably would have (if you know what I mean).

Sometimes I think, it’s easier to just have sex and stop trying to get to know these men especially if they’re looking for one thing (by the way, letting me know that’s all you want from me makes life way easier).

So on your marks, get sex, GO!

You are A to Z of fucked up

Moo is confused by this?!
Moo is confused by this?!

I like being chased, and complimented, and being paid attention to, but sometimes the man’s affections for me are just not enough for me to reciprocate the feelings back to him… At which point *BOOM* the world explodes and the man that stood before me singing my praises almost to the point of pedestal proportions turns into the type of man who spews insults faster than he can recall his family member’s names.

Let me explain:

On a weekend away with some friends, and copious amounts of alcohol, I ended up kissing one of them and even in my drunken, almost sloppy state, told him it was a mistake and that I apologize but I just don’t see him that way (plus his reputation of wham! Bam! Thank you ma’am! Was not one I was ready to endorse). He then, in protest, gave me a few compliments, to which I smiled kindly and then told him I’m retreating to my own bedroom the way I intended to all weekend- alone.

Well, at that point, the magic transformation had begun – I went from being beautiful to “you’re nothing more than a hot body and cute face – an empty vessel otherwise”, ” you have more psychological issues than buffalo bill”, “your degrees of fucked up are so advanced that Freud couldn’t begin to figure you out”, “not everyone wants you, in fact, I’m surprised anyone does”…the list goes on (in fact I’m sure there was an entire encyclopedia dedicated to my many flaws) so, after his little rant, I did the only natural thing to do- I went to bed.

The next morning offered no apologies and I was labelled a bitch. Was this a case of fierce angst against rejection or was the split personality act I endured just a part of some circus show I’m blissfully unaware of?

freak show

Hello, this is your captain speaking.

This is your captain speaking.
This is your captain speaking.

I’m rather unusual in my approach to dates – I openly give out a list of things that are “wrong” with me, usually on the first dare, and then let a man decide whether or not he is further interested.

I don’t believe in not telling people where they fit into my life or how, if I’m seeing more than one person I give out this information and you can either join my little group or decide I’m a slaggy susan you no longer want to associate with. If I’m only looking for one man in my life to whom I wish to commit to, they are made aware in haste.

Due to my honesty, I am often offended and deeply hurt when a man offers me information and doesn’t mean any of it.

Point in case; the pilot:

The pilot was an awkward yet unconventionally handsome individual that caught my attention the minute he approached me in a bar and the chemistry between us was of great proportion. while he was in the country we saw each other all the time and in times he wasn’t we would text – not too often as texting me everyday just bores me.

He asked if I minded that he is out of the country so much and I told him I didn’t, in fact I am most attracted to men who often don’t stay in the country and travel for one reason or another – it’s just my type (although I don’t know how I manage to find them). At that he responded that I may be the best and most different girl he had ever met.

Months of our dating continued and the usual in-the-country-out-the-country flirtation ensued.

Then, whilst he was away, he texted me that he would be arriving in the next week and he missed me and I must keep some nights free just for him, all to which I agreed… Only never to hear from him again…WTF dude?!? would it have not been easier just not to say that?!? Rather a “I’m bored and this no longer works” would have been much more greatly appreciated. And don’t tell me you miss me if you have no desires to see me again? I don’t get it, why don’t people just say what they mean and mean what they say?

Lost and confused again in this roller coaster called dating

Lost and confused, once again...
Lost and confused, once again…

6 Things I hate about you

Here is a list of six things that really do not gel with me on dates, or make the hairs at the back of my neck stand up straighter than they do after an episode of American Horror Story:

I'm not your damsel in distress
I’m not your damsel in distress

1.I’m not your damsel in distress
– not to say that a tall, dark, handsome stranger needn’t enter my life and fill it with glee (I’m still of the disney princess childhood fantasy clan, I’m afraid) but I don’t need you to do anything for me, I am more than capable of doing it myself. It’s true the thought of a tiara appeals to me greatly but bet your bonnet I can get it to sparkle on my head without you just fine. I am opinionated, contradictory, distant…and I don’t need you saving me from all my flaws. But thanks.

Ex-Talk
Ex-Talk

2.I don’t mind you talking about your ex on a date, but if it’s overly negative, I do
– don’t forget you once claimed to love this person and I’m in full belief that part of you, once loving a person, never stops- that part belongs to the memory of them -and let them, you owe yourself an amiable memory of the relationship no matter how badly it may have ended (yes, I know, easier said then done but I believe in it) and I’m aware heartache causes a negative reaction towards the heartbreaker, but speaking negatively about her only makes me increasingly aware of what I lack and what you will say about me should our potential relationship come to an end.

I'm not a bitch because some guy hurt me, sometimes I'm just a bitch
I’m not a bitch because some guy hurt me, sometimes I’m just a bitch

3. I’m not a bitch because some guy hurt me, sometimes I’m just a bitch
– when I go on a date and display strong opinions, primarily against commitment, I’m greeted with a free therapy session (oh bless! And thank your kindness) about what degrees of fucked up I could be and why – usually the answer in your mind is some guy “damaged” me…oh honey! No guy damaged me I’m just not the relationship type (until the right one comes along) and sometimes, I’m just a bitch.

Part of me is a hopeless romantic, the other part is, well, an asshole
Part of me is a hopeless romantic, the other part is, well, an asshole
4. Part of me is a hopeless romantic, the other part is, well, an asshole
– I’m a sucker for beautifully choreographed words strung together better than an orchestra quartet and gestures of affections that various magnitudes of literature have allowed me to fantasize about. However, I despise cliches, I’m not touched by your act of bringing me the same roses you bought your 30 previous dates, I want sunflowers. I will not be bowled over by a dinner with candlelight in a pricey restuarant that you know is a “sure win”, I like the hole in the wall almost nobody knows exists that serves authentic Italian. And I refuse to show you any sort of admiration if your idea of romance is a winky emoji in a text message – wink at me in real life at least!
I am not your trophy!!
I am not your trophy!!

5. I’m not the warrior race, tour de France, academy award or grand prix
Whilst I accept you like to push yourself and challenge yourself and your passion towards your favourite sports team is a turn on, I am no trophy. I am not a conquest to be achieved or a challenge to be taken up. The words “I like a challenge” in response to one of my views about you by no means appeals to me, in fact, it hurts. The truth is that once the challenge is completed, I have probably started to like you – a lot, at which point you have lost interest as the challenge is complete and congratulations you have another trophy stacked on your “girl-challenge” shelf … Thanks.

It's not your money, it's YOU
It’s not your money, it’s YOU

6.  She ain’t nothing but a gold-digger

On many an occasion I have heard various degrees and variations of the phrases ” you’re a gold-digger” or “high-maintenance” and when I ask why, the answer is a very underwhelming shrug accompanied by ” I don’t know, you kinda have that look” (well. Gee thanks for that clarification). But, I am not on my second degree in pursuit of being the most over-educated housewife in the history of housewives. It’s true I do like to be taken care of by a man, but just as much as I enjoy taking care of him. If you can’t, I understand, and don’t expect you to. It’s not your money, it’s you.
(All images sourced from: http://www.pinterest.com)

Ghost of relationship’s past

http://potd.pdnonline.com/2011/01/8043The dearly departed are often glorified after their deaths, where once he was a “drunk uncle” he becomes the “life of the party”, and where she was once “manipulating and lying” she becomes “creative, with a way with words.” Whether it is because we, as a human race, feel guilt, shame or our final respects, we do tend to make those who have passed away a shade brighter in their death.

This got me thinking; does the same phenomenon happen in the passing of a relationship? Do we glorify the memories of the relationship that once was in order to numb the pain of the events leading up to its annihilation?

Do we forget the ghosts of relationship’s past?

We insist on running back into the burning room of our hearts, our former relationships, and are adamant in searching through the ashes to revive something that no longer is. We fall asleep to dream of our dearly departed relationships only to awaken with the sting of a fresh heartbreak.

Is it an attempt to feel again, even if it’s an altered memory?

Personally, I think a part of it is that we glorify our former emotions and memories in order to remind ourselves that we did love, and sometimes loved intensely, and the part of us that allowed us to love another refuses to let go of the ability to do so in the future. Maybe, the holding onto our memories allows us to, somehow, let go of the heartbreak and remember things (or people) as they deserve to be remembered; in fairness and in love.

So, to the emotions I once felt:  promise I shall feel you again in all your glory when the time is right.