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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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)

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!

After the storm – 11 things I learned after a break up

1. I am allowed to be blonde 

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During my relationship, no hair changes were to be made without the significant consent of significant other. Some called it controlling, I called it love (pssshtt). My hair was to remain dark and that was the end of discussion. As a singleton my hair changes as much as my mood, blonde today, pink tomorrow?

2. I am the master of my own body 

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My ex-boyfriend was a part-time model and as occupational hazards had he was fit, athletic and gorgeous. In turn, I was to uphold a standard of my own, if I were a kilogram over the acceptable weight line he owned the right to call me “tubby”. I now have now learned I am the master of my own body , I can eat as many pizzas as I damn well please an dhow much I choose to dedicate my life to the gym- my body, my business!!

3. Where was this money at?

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Often, after break-ups, many men have more money since they pay for two -BAH- wrong! I finally have money to spend on me and not shared dinners, popcorn at the movies, the dress he approves of…it’s mine, all mine!!! bahahaha (I feel I may be experiencing a slight heightening of crazy in my single days). …ooohhh shoes!!!

4. I actually have friends

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I was so lost in the planning of “our” weekends that I had never dedicated time for MY weekends. I loved the time we spent together as a couple but now I appreciate that weekends are my own to spend with people who love me regardless of my flaws, my friends, who were often forgotten in the turmoil of a romance but still remain in the after-effects of the break up storm.

5. I discovered family

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When heartbreaks are done and the world begins to be a little lonelier, there are a group of people who are a constant. My family. In my tearful outbursts and overly-ecstatic reactions they remain a pillar of my spirit and a building block forward towards the person I want to be.

6. Heels, glorious, heels

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As a fairly tall individual, I often have to contemplate what shoes to wear on dates and whether my heels are too high or not. I now have the freedom to were stilts and not have to be overly concerned about whether or not my partner feel emasculated due to a pair of heels.

7. I may not know what I want, But I know what I don’t want

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I do not have a boyfriend checklist – tall, dark, handsome etc. In fact, I often just like the person for an unusual reason and I don’t know what that reason is. I may not know what I want in a person, but I’ve learned what I don’t want and it is an important lesson to learn.

8. Wait!! Someone finds me attractive?

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So long was I a girlfriend that the only drink ever bought for me was from my significant other. Nowadays every time someone buys me a drink or pays me a compliment, I am stunned… someone finds me attractive? How did that happen Pssht who cares? You have my permission to carry on.

9. I do not need your permission

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In a relationship I often have to ask the permission of my significant other to do a great number of things, and I usually end up apologizing profusely if I had not. For example, if I decided I need to fly out to another country just to clear my mind a bit, I’d need to ask permission, discuss why I need to get away, fight about the relationship and my ungratefulness and then remain were I was to maintain the safety of my relationship. And don’t get me started on the addition of a new tattoo. NO MORE! I do not need your permission… for anything.

10. The freedom of my wardrobe

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My exes favourite outfit on me was jeans, sneakers and white tank top or a LBD. Now while I like those outfit ideas I’m a girl of boho tastes, loose skirts, backless dresses and off-the shoulder tops – none of which was approved. I now have my narnia, a wardrobe full of possibilities and nobody to restrict me.

11. Not a plus one

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No longer are invites addressed to me as “plus one”, I have learned I have a name! And it ends up on invites eeek. NO longer am I a nameless entity attached to another person. There is a joy in that, oddly enough.

* All images found on pinterest.com

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.