Love & Relationships: You’ll be amazed what you find when you’re not looking ♥

Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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He found me, after our world’s have lived in parallel for what seems like forever. The universe finally thought it was the right time.

Now he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. He does this all the time. He’s done this since the first day we saw each other. I find myself doing the same.

He speaks to me as though he’s been waiting his entire life to tell me his stories. He’s done this since the first moment he introduced himself to me. I find myself doing the same.

He holds my hand in a way that feels like should he ever let go I would fall, and should i ever let go so would he.

He kisses me as if it’s my air that fuels his lungs, in a way that should my lips never meet his again he’d suffocate and die.

He listens to me so attentively it’s as though his favourite song rolls right off  my tongue. Memorizing every word.

And his voice; I would do anything to hear it, every single day.

I must have done something right in my life to be given everything I have ever asked for; wrapped up in one beautiful human being who wants nothing more from me but to love him.

So if I ever thought I was in love before {and boy did I ever think that} I couldn’t have been more was wrong, because nothing, in my entire life, ever felt like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Love & Its Inevitable Ending: Death

Death, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

wordpress_he died

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.

“23 Nov – We never even said goodbye to one another, baby we gonna be apart forever”

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. It 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’d hear 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. The word tattoo’d on his arm, his motto, 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. “They found his body” …”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” I did everything. Everything I could, except be there when he needed me. When he died.

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, shattering into a million pieces. My already broken heart, breaking even further. 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.

All. At. Once.

114 posts. And this, is my last one.

 

 

 

Love & Relationships; Space & Time

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

wordpress_space-and-time

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

wordpress_10 steps back

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

Women & Heartache: My three year anni{misery}

Break Ups, Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

I knew that some day when I’d eventually meet someone new that he would know; not because he was told but because he’d be able to feel it; that he would be able to feel my love for him fading and eventually dying.

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We always knew each other so well, he knew every smile, every eye roll, every “it’s fine” when it wasn’t because he made it that way. We’d start speaking at the same time {and it would always be about the same thing}. Our bodies mirrored each other the same way our minds did.

There was a time when we were perfect for each other, but that time was short lived.

It’s officially been three years and one day since the fateful end of our relationship. The timeline of our demise has become somewhat blurry but I believe we died the day he decided to give me my very first blue eye. Three years has since passed since I felt the sting of that man’s hand against my face. Three years since the day he put his hands around my neck and suffocated me. Three years since he literally wanted to kill me. Some would say it’s been long enough for me to be okay by now, for some to question why it still hurts this badly; those people clearly have never known heartache the way I have at the hand of someone they loved, I pray for their sakes they never do. There’s been many things since that “three years” but what it all comes down to is heart ache, heart break, heart wrenching & heart gutting anguish and turmoil and every other adjective to describe the falling & breaking of a woman…to a pit so deep that the light at the end of that tunnel is no where to be seen.

You see heartache is no joke, it is not something to be taken lightly, it is not something you simply “get over” or “move on” from. No…heartache is a disease that has no cure, something no doctor can medicate. There is no magic pill for this kind of shit, and so you deal with the shit in the best way you know how. I have, whether it has worked or not remains to be seen but what I can say is that the fear of having my heart ripped open again has been the sole reason for the erection of these walls {I just said erection, hahaha}; these walls that not only prevent anyone from coming close enough to hurt me, but seemingly also prevents anyone from coming close enough to make me happy. And happiness could be the very cure that I so desperately need.

A friend of his always said “the two of you have such a strong chemistry that it borders both passion and insanity”, he’d say “julle is so lief vir mekaar dat dit julle mal maak” {you guys love each other so much that it literally drives you crazy}.

I remember telling him after the break up that I wish to never speak of him again, to never have to say his name, to never have to hear it being spoken in my company…but in that same breath I also asked him “tell me how do I explain to someone what I am without doing that? How do I tell my story without sharing yours, and ours?”

The simple answer is I won’t ever have to because the right man won’t need me to explain. The pain and torment I experienced at his hand will eventually be erased by the gentleness of another’s. The words he uttered to me, will be erased by the kind words spoken off the lips of another. One day there will be another who will come to live in my heart when it’s ready to open it’s door.

So who is this “other” you may wonder; well this is what it’s been about of late; the battle of the two; the one who instantaneously broke down my walls from the day we met, the one who when I see him literally makes my heart skip a beat, taking my breath away, the one whom I just can’t seem to stay away from…yet I manage to do just that

*because then there’s The Architect, who just so happens to be someone worth writing about

**but that’s a story for another day

***happy anni{misery} & a day, to me

 

 

Sex & Relationships: The ultimate act of surrender S.01 The Finale

Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

Patience is a virtue. My body is aching. My memory is intact. I am happy.”

wordpress_thearchitectI was happy at the idea of a next one, of a new relationship at some point, I was happy and very okay with moving on. The Architect had been popping up in a number of my blogs and truth be told, this will most likely be the last.

After taking us a year to gather up the courage, albeit Dutch courage, to kiss each other…it would appear whatever was happening between the two of us has finally ended. But when I see him, when we’re at a place together, it’s like we can’t keep our eyes off each other. I catch him staring at me; and the only reason I see it is because I’m staring at him too…from across the bar, the dance floor, the room, wherever he is…that’s where my eyes are. I manage to crack a smile and then I don’t know what to do, so I look away, I turn away and I walk away. As I walk away I look into the face of his ex-girlfriend who always seems to find her fucking way to events he will be at and I can’t help but think that she is it. She is the reason. The reason I will never be given, the reason for his elusiveness and lack of comprehension.

I’m just too old to be playing these games man, I’ve told him before “I like you, and I know you like me…and I think we like each other enough to give this one more try”…my honesty seemed in vain, and it’s not something I do often…be honest about my feelings. But with him I was. But with him it never worked. And so this time with him the surrender is going to be somewhat different, it is not giving in to a desire, but giving up on one. Him. I’m giving up on him. I’ve decided this many times before though yet each time something makes me change my time…like the way he calls me “woman!” gets me every time.  But it eventually all comes back to this, an inevitable ending, an inevitable ending without a reason.

It’s ironic though, him being an Architect. In a sense I needed someone to re-design me and build me up from the nothing that was left behind…he doesn’t even know that he’s done this, I wasn’t even aware that he was doing this. When I surrendered to him, that first time, he made me not want it from anyone else because he made me remember what it’s supposed to feel like. How I felt with him. How he behaved when he was with me. And nothing’s been the same since, nothing else has come close. No one else.

He will never know any of this, he will never know the impact he has made on my life. I will never tell him. Honesty doesn’t seem to work with him…and honestly, I don’t think he deserves to know. He doesn’t deserve a lot of my feelings. In hindsight. He never did. As I write this I feel bursts of anger at his cavalier attitude toward me, our situation, has he not being paying attention? Surely he cannot be that clueless? Perhaps he likes the vagueness of wonder & confusion. Perhaps LEAVING things open makes him more open to the idea of LEAVING. Clearly.

I will continue to stare at him though. My heart will continue to skip a few beats, smiling at the memory of what was, of what could have been.

*But I have no more memories wrapped up in him waiting to be unwrapped, our time has come and gone…twice. And there will be no third time’s a charm. There will be simply, nothing.