Dating & Relationships: Words Worth Writing

Break Ups, Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

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Each time I write, the words splash pieces of myself into a place where anyone can touch them. And when I realized I wasn’t driven to pen & paper each time we were together, my heart knew it wasn’t worth it.

I think about everyone I have ever written about, the emotions tied to every word. The memory linked to each sentence. The feeling each paragraph reminds me of. I’ve been a bucket of emotions for as long as I can remember {…pity no one else knows this about me}.

Sometimes I go back to reread my very own history when I feel the memories slipping away. Sometimes I cry, other times I smile. But no matter what the emotional response, at least there are ones. With him, there was nothing, nothing worth writing about, nothing I wanted to remember, nothing worth remembering to be honest. Except that I now know that the words I love you mean nothing if not backed up by action. That three words can get cold real fast.

Why did I even let it go on this long, four and half month of being his girlfriend when I never missed him when we were apart. Never longed for his smell and touch and the sound of his laughter…never had the sense of anticipation for our next time together erupt out of me and land on my face as blushed cheeks and permanent smiles. Never did the urge to want to be next to him, to touch him, to hold his hand ever envelope me the same way I wanted his body to.

I knew this from the beginning though, that I felt nothing for him. I never did. Not in all the years we knew each other, he was never on my radar; what he turned out to be was a rebound. I never wanted to admit it, but that’s all he was. I literally needed to drink every time we were together, being sober around him was excruciating. I knew the longer it continued the more i would lose pieces of myself, and not in my words, on these pieces of digital paper…but I’d lose myself completely trying.

Be with someone worth writing about. Be with someone who makes you smile. Be with someone who’s actions don’t require the constant and sometime premature “I love you’s”…but most importantly, just be with someone you can be yourself with, your best self, the person you want to be because of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love & Its Inevitable Ending: Death

Death, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

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He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. 

I grieved him and us and what we had while he was still alive. I mourned the loss of our life and our love for almost three years. It was difficult but I always knew he was out there somewhere, walking around, laughing, dancing, living. But that’s all changed now.

I started this blog in an attempt to try and write him out of me, to try and write the words I was unable to speak, to tell the stories I could never tell. All in the hopes that one day it can finally be over. That I can finally stop loving him, stop hating him, stop feeling him.

114 posts; more than half about him; the man I loved more than life itself, the man who loved me, hated me and broke me. Gosh, he loved me. Sometimes I knew it, other times I questioned it.

114 posts about love {having love, losing love, thinking I’d found love to actually falling in love again}.

114 posts about heartbreak, pain, sadness, the inevitable healing and moving forward.  and the things I did to forget him. Trying in vane. Always. Because he knew I belonged to him and I knew it too.

114 posts about learning to live without him and they have to end today. They have to end today because he died. The love of my life, the man that changed my world, the man who owned my heart even thought he broke it several times over, he is dead.

His heart stopped beating Friday the third of March 2017 at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night in an area far away from where he and I shared a life, a home. Friday the third of March was when his life ended {taken}. His last breath drawn {taken}. He left. Me.

I have tried to be okay. Even answering the questions “are you okay” with a “yes”. Mostly lies because I’m not. I dream about him every night, he’s banging on my windows screaming my name, screaming for me to help him. But I can’t. I couldn’t. I t wasn’t my job anymore. It was hers. She never did her job.

So I’m stuck with these questions in my head all day. Why was he there, why did he lie to her, why was he without her, why did he leave without his things, why was he in the street, what did he say to them when they approached him, did he scream for help? Did he try and fight back? Did he know he needed help.Why was there no one to help him? Because he never needed it that’s why! He was strong, and fit, he never needed help until that night. And no one was there.

I spoke with him briefly the Thursday, some time between 5 & 5h30pm, we laughed, he quoted Riel Prophets’ song “ChillinLike A Villain”. He loved rap music, hip hop…I never knew that would be last time I heard from him. I replied with a laughing face emoji and the words “I’m glad” …my last words to him was “I’m glad” because I was. He seemed up beat and relaxed. Staying out of trouble. I wanted to believe him. {Believe.} I wanted to. But that was the last time I will ever hear from him. Of him yes, the day I got the news I “heard of him” again. “He’s dead” it said. But not from him. I heard of him. Because he is dead.

We always spoke about who would die first {I always believed I would because cancer runs in our family} and we spoke about who would tell the other about it. I told him I would feel it, the day he no longer breathes, but I didn’t, I felt nothing at all. I woke up that Friday, went to work, wrote my 114th post, mostly about him; again, and went on my merry way. In fact, I still spoke about him that Friday night, I said “I would have done anything to be with him, and I did, I did it for us, and love”

We never thought he would actually die, he was immortal you know {his words}, he was my superman {my words}. The one that protected me and also the one who I ended up needing protection from.

I woke up that Sunday, that’s when I got the news. That’s when I heard of him. I dropped my phone and started shaking. Crying. That was how I knew I would feel. Like my heart is breaking all over again. He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. He died anyway.

How did it feel to lose him? Like every goodbye ever said to me, all at once.

114 posts. And this, is my last one.

 

 

 

Dating & Relationships: The First Fight {Not Fist Fight}

Dating, Love, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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Saying “I’m not like other women” is so cliche. Because the fact is, I am.

I’m such a typical woman it’s actually scary and I hate to admit {so I never will} but hey…I want what we all want out of a relationship; a partner, a lover, a confidant…*a big dick* I want time and affection and to be showered with gifts and adoration *a big dick* I want romance, dinner dates, picnics in the forest *a big dick*. I want support, stability and consistency *a big dick* I want it all.

So why then do I claim to “not be like other women”. Because the truth is, I’m not.

The “broken hearts club” is the most UNexclusive club in the world..not just the city, not just the country, not just the continent BUT the whole world.

But my journey that lead to my heart break & honorary member of said BHC {Broken Hearts Club} has now laid an entirely new foundation for any relationship I choose to enter. A new point where my “fuck this and fuck off” point has shifted to.

Is this fair though? No matter how many times I have said that I never want my ex to be a factor, and the fact is even though he physically won’t it is what he did to me that will and how that experienced changed me that will. And yes it’s not fair, but it is a reality. One that I have to deal with.

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One that I have had to deal with this weekend past where an eerily familiar feeling hit me, a feeling that used to be normal for me, a feeling I always said I never want to feel again…during an interaction with new BF I experienced for the first time since my ex such an utter lack of respect and disregard for me that, at first, I was shocked & stunned, like “what the fuck just happened” “does he know who he is speaking to” {I got visions of an aunty in the street with rollers in her hair doing wild and dramatic hand and head gestures} and through those visions my “fuck this and fuck off” got switched back on.

I ended it. That night. Done. Told him as such. He never took it well because he never expected it. {Oddly enough the root cause of the issue was HIS expectations of a frolicking-at-sunset-on-the-beach type romance, highly unrealistic, I mean, just read my bio…little did he know that I too had AND subsequently let go of my own expectations to give this an actual chance…see previous post Women & Relationships: When expectations become the executioner of your butterflies }

But what I wasn’t expecting was to feel that bad about it. He is a good guy and I have said this before…it was out of character {at least according to him although I have seen snippets of it before}…so I took a step back, agreed to hear him out one last time, I eventually accepted his apology. And now, things are seemingly okay.

This was not shock tactics, although I think it is what he needed.

I’m not saying I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread {although I really am} but I am somewhat super cool, I have good hair and a great sense of humour {these are frivolous things and in no means grounds to rate myself 10 out of 10, although I’m going to anyway}.

Yes, I am fucken great and he simply needs to work harder…and I might just adjust my fuck this and fuck off switch…{compromise, so grown up of me}

…..months later….I should have listened to my gut….she’s never failed me before

Women & Relationships: When expectations become the executioner of your butterflies

Relationships

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I don’t have that much experience with romantic relationships at all, well, not in the traditional sense that is.

Yes, I’ve had my fair share of lovers, some of them were pretty damn good {okay now I have a Barry White song stuck in my head} but when it comes down to it, I’ve chosen a lover countless times over a boyfriend because it’s just easier. Yes I have blamed my last relationship on my inability to move forward and have positive emotions etc, but that was a cowardly approach, because the truth is I just didn’t want to. I wanted to be free and I wanted to do what I wanted, when I wanted and with who I wanted.

The best things about a lover; no expectations, no rules, no labels…and for goodness sake no clinginess and dare I say no utterly unattractive neediness. And when you’re done with them, you move on, no break ups #bestever

There were times I thought it was what I wanted, I reached the point of being with a lover long enough to think a “next step” was needed…even if only to fulfill my frivolous need of having someone to tag in Facebook and Instagram posts, to having a permanent “plus one” because going through the tedious process of choosing a date was always just so arbitrary.

After The Architect dramatically ended things not too long ago I was all about using 2017 as my sabbatical year to just be selfish; with me, my time, my life, my stories…but I guess life decided that perhaps now would be the perfect time to send someone along, someone who finally wants me more than I want them, someone who would do anything for me as opposed to me doing everything for them…it was time though but it wasn’t expected, in fact, I never even saw it coming.

And so, here I am, after being single for three years, I find myself in a RELATIONSHIP!. An official one at that; not an imaginary one, one that I made up in my head, something was more than nothing…it’s real…he asked, I said no a few times just to keep it exciting…he kept asking and I acted more and more crazy just to test him…and no hey, he stayed, and he kept asking and eventually I thought “girl, you need to just give this one a go and for God’s sake, do it right!”.

*I can be quite convincing I must add

So eventually I said yes, and guess what {shock horror} it’s not exactly what I thought it would be. Dare I use that word “expected” again…it is not exactly what I expected it to be.

I expected an unlimited desire to want sexy time, an unquenching {not sure if this is a word} thirst for my man…I expected butterflies, jitters, nerves and a nauseatingly high need to want to throw up each time I was about to see him, but no, it was none of that, it is none of that.

Then I thought end it, this is not what you are used to, this is not what you normally feel, it’s not like all the other times…just end it. But another part of me though maybe that is the point, that it shouldn’t be like all the other times, because all the other times were disasters.

 

But not this time, he is lovely, kind, considerate and everyone likes him, I like him {enough}…and he likes me…my God, he actually likes me…through my tequila inhaling, pizza eating, potty mouth speaking ways…this man, for some ungodly reason actually likes me. And that was it, that was enough. And for now, it is enough for me to subdue my expectations before it kills something before it even had a proper chance.

{Aaaand now I have Barry White’s album on repeat…dammit}

 

….again….I should have known…my lack of feelings was the sign that just got louder and louder

Love & Relationships; Space & Time

Dating, Love, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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Sometimes I have to re read my words, the words that my heart spoke during a very difficult time in my life. I re read them to remember how far I have come and to remind myself to never ever go back there.

I remember so much sadness. I wish I could forget that feeling. The emptiness, the despair.

I remember how lost I was and I remember the things I did to try and find my way back to myself again. It seemed in vain. But I tried.

The things I did to make myself “feel” better when in actual fact I couldn’t feel anything at all. But I tried.

I remember hoping & praying that one day I would be able to be okay again, myself again. I remember hoping & praying to heal, so that one day when he comes along I can be whole and happy and not allow my past to hurt my present. My gift, the gift i hoped for. A feeling out of the brokenness.

Sometimes I forget to remember, those are the days I smile. Laugh. The days I forget to remember, those are the best ones.

I never used to laugh much, but I remember being happy; but I also never used to cry as much as I did. I remember each tear, like a lover lost; fading the further it went.

I liked laughing. It was better that crying. I found my laughter again, and it’s been a while since I cried, until a few nights ago, until he made me cry again. The one that gave me that feeling. The one I hoped for. He made me cry.

Crying because I couldn’t understand how you could say to someone “I think we need space” when space is all we ever had? So callously. So carefree. So inconsiderate.

And no matter how many times I tried to close that space, he found equal and more powerful ways of reinstating it. Again, I tried.

How do you tell someone “I think we need space” when that is all you have ever given them, because you knew they needed it, and they needed time; time to understand that not all women are the same, time to understand that maybe I won’t do what she did, time to understand that it could be different. Time to heal the same hurts I have. I tried. He never did. And seemingly never will.

He doesn’t get to say that. Space and time was all I ever gave him because I thought that’s what he needed.

Until it became clear that that was what he wanted.

 

 

 

Single & Frustrated: Qualifying criteria to be the last one standing…

Dating, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

It’s actually not that difficult, I just make it that way. I mean fuck, if that fuck nut of an ex who still causes me so much turmoil can find someone to put up with his lying, drug addicted, violent, cheating, manipulative, psychopathic ass…then surely I can too.

I just really need someone who will happily pour me wine and watch series with me…and then maybe get something to eat and have sex…the food is optional.

Oh, and you can’t watch series with other girls if you’re watching series with me *and by watch series I mean have sex* …so don’t even try to fuck boy your way into a bread buttering competition…because you can only have it on one side, and that one side is my buns, not her korsie and if you try it any other way you will lose.

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I’m not fussy but just so we have clarity, let’s get started:

  1. You must be single, single single single and you need to be able to tell me you why you are single. Having your heart broken once is a valid reason and I understand, but don’t hou duk with that excuse because even I know a broken heart can heal…eventually.
  1. You need to have the capacity to grow a beard, you do not necessarily have to have one when we meet, but the potential for growth…as with many things in life…needs to be there.
  1. You cannot be thinner than me and I’m not thin…
  1. You cannot be shorter than me and I’m 1.7…
  1. Being big & tall is great, but everything needs to be in proportion…especially our friend down there.
  1. I have enough boobs for the both of us, you don’t need to have them too #moobsmustfall
  1. You need to be a man man. Not a boy. Not a pansy. Not a”I’m too good to change my own tyre, I’ll pay someone to do it” or “this shirt was  expensive we can’t jump in the pool right now”
    Men make fires, pay their own bills, respect their woman, loves their parents, races cars, owns power tools and can screw anything into any hole.
    Boys quit their jobs and dream of becoming hip hop artists, yes, I know the SABC now says 90% local music so your chances are a lot higher these days…great, for you.
  1. I love old people, but I generally prefer them within the range of either 10 years my senior or 1 year my junior…don’t even try, just don’t.
  1. You need to be aware of your health, I can’t have sex with you and all of the sudden you get a heart attack, dead is not cool. Being alive under a dead person, even less cool.
  1. You must have a hobby, if it’s a sport, great…Fantasy League football does NOT count…you just need to be passionate about something other than me J
  1. Please don’t make me go hiking. If I do, then you must know I really enjoy having sex with you to put up with that hiking up mountains bullshit.
  2. Being clever is cute and I like it…be qualified in something, have a degree, educate yourself.
  1. Please do not ever wear crocs FFS or sloffies that make your toes hang over…just no.
  1. Please be able to cook, or at least fry bacon and eggs…I can deal with bacon and eggs for the rest of my life, I REALLY CAN
  1. I drink a lot of wine, you need to deal and you need to be willing to come wine drinking with me *I drink , I don’t taste, so it’s never wine tasting, ever*
  1. I like going away to new places…I go away often so you need to be proactive and book shit and make plans. And if you don’t then all you ever need to say when I make plans is “yes baby, I’m in” even if it’s the kakkest idea you ever heard.
  1. 30 seconds, dominoes and poker is a must…we need to be able to keep ourselves entertained when we are not having sex.
  1. You must be a good kisser because you can’t walk around slapping your dick in my face all day
  1. You must have good sense of humour and you must be able to make me laugh…I laugh at anything really, I’m totally easy…to please….with jokes *whispering* “and a penis…”
  1. You must have a Facebook account. Like it or not we will be Facebook official…my friends have been waiting for my “one” longer than I have and this is non-negotiable…for their sake obviously, not mine, I don’t need the external validation from random strangers nor do i desire the gratification of everyone seeing how ridiculously happy i am and how ridiculously much sex I am having…you know.

Oh, and don’t do drugs and don’t be a violent psychotic hypocrite who likes to fuck around and tell lies.
Oh, and if you read this post and felt intimidated, cringed or thought “wow she’s so un-politically correct and rude”… you are not qualified and you need to fuck off.

Great, good luck.

May the odds be ever in your favour!

Love & Heartache: My X, Y?

Break Ups, Cheating, Relationships, Uncategorized

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This week was the first time that I saw a photograph of him and her together, it’s been 3 years and this was the first time. I saw it once before however, but that was at a “work event’, little did I know that it had already started back then. It’s not like I went looking for it, it appeared on my TL. I never asked for it, I never even realized what it was in the beginning. Something told me to ignore it, but instead, I chose not to. I wanted them to know I know, I wanted everyone else to know my damn name.

I don’t know why I reacted the way I did. Anger.  Lots of anger. Lots. I wanted to rip his throat out and throw it at her. I wanted the earth to swallow them and take them away and hopefully with it all my feelings too.

My feelings for him. My sadness, anger, pain and despair. Why the fuck do I still love him?! Why do I convince myself that I don’t?!

Am I officially insane? This man wanted to kill me for God’s sake.

Why does seeing them together hurt me so badly?

Why do I still feel so angry and filled with rage?

Why can I just not let them be?

It’s because he lied. It’s because he cheated on me, with her. It’s because he lied. It’s because she answered his phone when I called him. It’s because he lied about her. It’s because when I asked her about I’m she said “jou pa se p&o$” as if she knew my father…as if she had a right to be angry at me…as if me asking if she’s sleeping with my boyfriend gave HER the right to be angry at me. It’s because she didn’t know me. She knew about me, from the lies he told. It’s because she didn’t know she was the other woman. It’s because he lied.He lied. To me. All the time.

Seeing that photo has taken me ten steps backwards, I’m feeling the same way this week that I did 3 years ago. The sadness, crying, headaches, insomnia; it’s all back. The pressure, tension and anxiety. The mood swings. They’re all back. Like a fucking reunion of my mixed messed up emotions.

I hate him again for doing this to me, but then I hate myself again for allowing it.

I was trying really hard, to get better. I really was. I even tried to fall in love again, I even tried to convince myself that I was. I wish I could be, that is the only way I won’t love him anymore, is if I love someone else, but I don’t want to love someone else just to stop loving him, because that’s not fair either. But I feel nothing. This is why I do what I do; in an attempt to feel something. It never works.

So I’m going to be stuck in this limbo for a while and it hurts me every day while I’m here, but I don’t know where else to go.

*The way I loved him was some kind of powerful, I’d give anything to feel that way again, but I’d give everything to feel this kind of pain again…not ever. Not ever again