Crossing International borders

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It appears I have a weakness… A weakness for pilots,adventurers, game Rangers, anyone who travels… And travels a lot.

These type of men pack their bags at a whim and dash off for an adventure the minute their hearts get restless and their passports feel emptier than it did a day before. These men are perfect.
And in this I find comfort, as it caters to my commitment-phobia whilst also catering to my need for romance. Hence, my seeing yet another pilot at the moment .

My view to them is what happens over international borders is their business, so I never ask what misbehaviors they have experienced or entanglements they decided upon.

This got me thinking; does the same apply to me?

I’ve grown rather restless in the last few days and sense that another country may need my presence. So, I wonder if the pilot will take the same stance on international romances as I do?

In the dating game, what international boundaries can be crossed?

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(Pictures: Pinterest.com)

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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.

The mystery of the pyramids…and the heart

http://www.hplyrikz.com/
http://www.hplyrikz.com/

When searching for a reason for most mysteries in life I often am disappointed with absence of an answer. I suppose that is the thing about mysteries: most will always remain in the black holes of time. However, from the mysteries of the Egyptian pyramids to those of the mind, none is more mysterious or unsolvable than the reasoning of the human emotion.

Love is a four letter word that has countless pieces written in its tribute. I think it is only fair that, in turn, I dedicate an entry to this almost unexplained sensation. The difficulty in writing this piece is not the lack of knowledge towards the subject but rather the lack of a decent idea on how to describe the emotion without a clichéd, cheesy description.

My love is a complicated one; it is filled with care, kindness and dependence but twisted on the outskirts with a hint of jealousy, a pinch of mistrust and a tiny dose of life’s betrayals. For me, to love is most difficult, but to love me, is even worse. With a somewhat warped and conflicted character I battle to balance the want for freedom with the need for a constant being. I’m attention-seeking yet distant, fun yet disconnected, but with all this I love. A constant tug of war between my hardness and softness, my want to enwrapped in the arms in another and my need for freedom, my insane fear of commitment and the fear of loneliness.

While reading over my description, one is almost drawn immediately to the sense of desperation while I try most hard to avoid it. You see, my love is real, my love is whole and my love is complicated. I cannot explain why.

That is where my mystery is given birth to and my curiosity for reason is aroused.

WOW! this is going to make dating easier...NOT
WOW! this is going to make dating easier…NOT

One hit wonder

There are those men, my word, that are just perfect.

You meet them in a club/pub/restaurant/get together/whatever and you just have such good chemistry that it seems the night should never end and when it does…he asks for your number *insert insanely happy girly dance here (behind his back, of course)*.

Then it gets better, he texts. Even over the phone he has you actually laughing and not just LOLing (with a straight face), and all at once…it stops. That’s it. You never hear from him again. And if you do cave in and message him first (I have a no messaging first policy, but hey shit happens) he is as excited as a lamp post with no light… I name him the one hit wonder.

Guys? Seriously! What is that about?

I’ve entered the land of the ever more confused. As if this dating business wasn’t confusing enough already. moo2

The first date

Having recently broken up with a bf I had for 4 years, the thought of dating was daunting. Whilst I had no problems with drunken kisses on dodgy dance floors, I did hold a great apprehension for getting to know somebody again.

I did, however, put my big girl panties on and agreed to a date with A- a Greek guy with fairly good kissing skills, and whilst under the influence, rather charming (yes, we met in a club: reserve judgments of my character if you will).

He suggested a dinner, which I transformed into drinks instead. The idea of dinners daunt me; they can be time consuming, run the risk of being stiff, they’re far too formal for my liking and finally, can I order my favourite dish that is on the pricier side?

Anyway, the night arrived (a random Tuesday that we both managed to make time for). I was dressed in a little black dress with gorgeous flat pumps (his height was equal to mine- gosh, being tall does present a wardrobe problem from time to time especially for a heels-loving girl).

The night began well, he picked me up from my place and opened the car door. Agreeing to a popular bar in the area we ordered our respective drinks (mine being a delectable strawberry cocktail of sorts and his a soda and gin). After some pleasant conversation (and a few good kisses) he suddenly ordered tequila…for himself? Then paid in a rush (gentlemanly of him to pick up the bill, I suppose), got me into the car and drove to a block of flats, informing me that his parents were away.

Now do keep in mind, it was my first date after a serious break up and I was somewhat startled by his abruptness, I told him to forget the flat and to take me home ( I was rather huffy, with arms crossed and staring out of the window, avoiding all glances).

Now, while I was no expert in the dating field, I am most certain the following segment is an unusual occurrence and if not, I’ve been out of the game far too long. While stopping at a robot (for non South African residents I believe it’s called a traffic light) Alex started fidgeting, and with a look over my shoulder, he had taken his pants down and exposed his penis…what did he expect me to do, reenact the wolf of wallstreet opening scene? Comment on size? Applaud? Break out into song? …instead I carried on my stance of arms crossed and eyes firmly fixed through my window… The silence was unbreakable.

As he dropped me off at home (penis still exposed…and untouched by myself, in case you were wondering) I opened the car door myself (I guess chivalry died half way through the night, if not sooner) I couldn’t help wondering, am I ready to be single?

moo2

The Dating Dilemmas Of A Fashionista

I’m a fashion student who spends most Saturdays with the girls, sipping chardonnay and sharing gossip and giggles about dates we often comment on being good (or dreadful) enough to write about, so… I thought, why the hell not?

I am a tall, 24 year old blonde (for now), average sized woman,with an incredible talent in meeting men…of all sorts.

Join me, as date by date, I discover the world of the singleton. But before we start keep in mind one thing: I am a spinning mess of my own contradictions and stupidities…and I like it that way.

Welcome to destination unknown.

P.S try not to keep up with names too much…I know I don’t

This is moo, she is the cartoon version of myself - and loves wine :D
This is moo, she is the cartoon version of myself – and loves wine 😀