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

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

wordpress_fistfight_2

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

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!

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.

 

 

 

Single & Dating: The Tinder Diaries P02 Circle’s closin in

Abuse, Dating, Love, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman

Although my love affair with G was fulfilling, and to be honest, more than enough, the ease of Tinder allowed for more than just one…playmate. I needed to see what else was out there. Who else was out there. And so my introduction to the IT guy, my first one, happened.

I say first because well, there’s been a few more. But this particular one it would appear Tinder selected based on Facebook mutual friend suggestions. Although, little did Facebook and Tinder know that we had in fact already met, an entire year before. I sat right at his kitchen table enjoying a glass of wine with him at my friend’s wedding after party January of that year, 2014.

But alas, little did Facebook, Tinder or anyone else for that matter know that that night I happen to be left standing on the highway by my drunk, very high and violent boyfriend at the time. Yes, left on the highway, because oddly enough, I got accussed of sleeping with said IT guy that night.

So the irony did not escape either of us when we realized who the other was and more specifically, the irony did not escape us when we actually did start sleeping together.

Mr IT was such a great guy though; intelligent, caring, considerate, attentive and a really passionate and gentle lover. We had so much fun together. He had a great sense of humour and thought I was really funny too. We went on dates, festivals even went to the theatre. We laughed, held hands, sat next to each other…kissed. I liked him. More than I did anyone in a years. I thought “could this be my guy? It would be so easy, I already know his family, friends…could it be?”

Short answer is no. He could not be, he was not going to be.

I had an event one night, very close to where he lived, my intention was to see him that day but it would appear that my intention and his intention were not the same. I woke up to a text from him, ending it. Saying he had met someone else and that he wants to explore things with her. I cried. Everything my ex had said was coming true “They will never love you” “They only want to fuck you” “You are nothing special” “You will never be anyones choice” I cried some more. And then some more.

I replied, eventually, with a beautiful and respectful message…because he was being honest, and he did not deserve my anger or sadness. He was not that type of guy. And I was not going to be that girl. My tears made me realize that I am not dead, somewhere inside I still work, and dream, and long…for a next time. The possibility of a next time was now something I was no longer afraid of. I had hoped it could have been with him, it just felt unfinished, like it wasn’t over yet. But it was.

That night my ex broke into my house, drunk and high again…attacked me and I had to have him arrested.

*The irony does not escape me.

Single & Dating: The Tinder Diaries P01…Same ol’ G

Dating, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

There’s a world of online dating where people go to “connect”. But how exactly does one “connect” online? I personally had hermitised myself because of my recent heartbreak, so I definitely wasn’t connecting with anyone, anywhere…let alone on line. So the impersonal nature that online dating has and the idea of getting out there without technically getting out at all suited me perfectly.

So welcome my newest app download, Tinder, overwhelmed does not even begin to describe it!

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The first guy I met was a beautiful, green eyed man with slivers of grey hair scattered around his head and beard. He was kind, respectful; the kind of man I thought had all but disappeared. He lived close to me too {thanks to Tinder’s location settings} We had so much in common, our industries, kids, relationship history. It was so easy to talk to him, at this stage I would have spoken to anyone; after being alone so long you crave the conversation more than anything else.

I had a work trip toward the end of 2014, and so did he. We were chatting one afternoon and realized that we both happened to be in the same area, 2500km’s away from our hometown. We decided we had to meet, at the hotel I was staying at, after my event.

It was just before 2am when he arrived, I had a few drinks too many and stood there in my black dress. He was excited, in a good mood, he laughed, and smiled…he was such a gentlemen. We spoke all night, him on the couch, me on the bed…he left about 2 hours later, I fell asleep.

I remember asking him why he never tried anything, not even a kiss…he simply replied “What kind of man would you think I was if I did that?”. That was the start of a six month love affair. A love affair that saw us giving and receiving many orgasms. No inhibitions. No need to impress the other. Just two people, who’ve been alone so long and were simply happy to not be alone anymore. He loved my body; a body that I was made to feel so self conscious about, a body that was hurt, bruised and tossed aside, and yet he loved it, like it was the first time he touched it, every time. Like he was just so glad he was being given the opportunity to enjoy it. I remember what that felt like. I never felt that before.

As I write, I remember. His lips were soft, yet strong. He’s grip, firm yet gentle. His voice was deep, but caring. Never spoke a harsh word and never raised his voice. Fear was never something I felt around him. I enjoyed him, I loved our time together. But then just like that, he was gone. Tinder does that you know, as quickly as you can come into someone’s life, that’s how quickly you can leave.

Oddly enough, the day I wrote this was his birthday. I was reminded of how thankful I was to have met him. He restored my faith in a man who can make a woman feel as amazing as I did when I was with him.

He was the first man I was with after my break up, he was worth the wait. He awoke parts of me I thought had died. Made me want to be alive again. He will never know any of this, but he was the start of my journey back to the one person I forget mattered the most, me.

We’ll call him G, and he was amazing.

Women & Relationships: When you’re living dead

Abuse, Break Ups, Cheating, Death, Love, Relationships, Sister, Uncategorized, Woman, women

After the break up two years ago I found myself doing something I’d never thought I’d do again so soon. Grieving.  The death of my relationship, but most importantly the death of me, the person I was before him.

You see, an abusive relationship kills you, figuratively and more often in some cases, literally. In my case it was the latter; my eyes were open, there was air moving in and out of my lungs, but there was no life inside of me. Inside, I was as good as dead.

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In the notebooks I found recently I can trace back the first violent incident to August 2011. He threw a plate at me for going out with colleagues after a work function. I can trace back the first lie to the very day we met again in April 2009 when I asked him “who’s car is this” because I knew what car he drove, and the one I saw that night was not it. “It’s my mechanic’s” he replied.  It wasn’t and I later found out that it was the woman he was living with, the women who called him her boyfriend…his girlfriend! It was her car! And I was in it. {Funnily enough, the mother of his child told me many times how he would come pick her up in my car and go out on dates, I never believed her because he always said she was lying…that’s karma for you}

Fast forward to May 2014…the day I told him to please leave, once and for all, and for the last time.  And so it started, as though what had been going on for the past few years wasn’t enough.

I spent each day after that last day in denial {yes, I hoped he would come back, and say he’s sorry…again} the pain, anguish. The anger and sadness overwhelmed me. I spent most mornings driving to work in tears and most night’s awake suffering from insomnia. Even when I could manage a few hours of sleep they too were tainted with nightmares, night sweats, heart palpitations & restlessness. My breakdowns were so severe, I couldn’t move, talk, and think…I was numb.

I never recognized this person, when I looked in the mirror or caught a reflection of what I had become. 2014 was a horrible year. I couldn’t let anyone see me like this, so I stayed away from everyone. The lies I told, oh my word the lies. All the “I’m fine’s” and the “It’s okay’s” and the “I’m busy I can’t make it’s”.  I was so good at it. Or so I thought,

My daughter, she suffered while I suffered. I couldn’t help myself so she tried, but was only 7 years old, it was never her job. I hope she knew it was never her, I tell her that now. She believes me. She says she’s happy to have her mommy back. I wish I could say the same because the person that came back is not who I was, I am not sure who she is quite yet…but I do believe she is getting better. My daughter say I smile a lot more, I laugh a lot more too.

But there is still so much anger inside of me. I feel it when comments are made that brings back a memory or two. In fact, just yesterday I got told in the most condescending tone of voice I have ever heard directed at me…“Look here, I know YOU  went through a bad time in YOUR relationship, but I …I actually give a damn about mine” And this was my sister. Hearing those words hurt me, it was unexpected and caught me completely off guard. All I asked was if she wanted to come with me to the food market on Sunday, but her finace is going to rehab because he is apparently a drug addict, yet she chooses to shout at me instead of leaving him… and I lost my shit and told her as such.

No one has the right to assume what it was I went through, what that “bad time” was like. No one has the right to talk about it in my absence or reference it in my presence unless I brought it up. This never happens, because I can’t ever bring myself to start telling someone my story. I try, so I share pieces of it, bordering on headings and summaries…and I wish I could, I wish I could see someone’s face as they hear what I have to say. So I can see the horror in their eyes, because that is what it was, it was horrible. It was absolutely horrible.

I cried last night. I cry often these days, as it leads up to the anniversary of the death of me, us, and him…the tears serve as a reminder. I don’t like these memories anymore but I know they won’t go away until I make new ones, with someone who is not him. With someone who’s love won’t hurt me. With someone who I am not scared of. With someone. Else.

And right there is where I find myself, stuck, because it’s kind of hard to live let alone love, when you’re dead.