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

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

Relationships

wordpress_expectations

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

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

 

 

Women & Relationships: When U & I become US

Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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I don’t know when this started, I think it’s always been a part of me; I have a very competitive nature. This has not proven well in my romantic relationships though, even though it reared its ugly head rather late.

I remember my very first boyfriend; he wanted me, only me. Then my second one, me too…my third, he looked at me and decided right there. Told me as such too. My fourth one was my second one, he just couldn’t stay away J

The point is: they asked. I said yes and pooof I was someone’s girlfriend. No two ways about it. It was now “us” and “we”.

What are “we” doing?

Where are “we” going?

They Invited “us”

“We” should go see that movie etc…you get my drift.

I don’t know when that stopped because when I met my now ex-husband, it was me…and 4 other girls. When I met my boyfriend after my husband it was me and an ex that would not go away…and and and {others}. I had to fight for them…why I don’t rally know, to be the winner? What was the prize? It wasn’t them. I was the fucking prize. When did I forget that I was the prize?

And now, a habit I need to break. My need to be chosen.  And my need to be the prize.

The one that hurt me, the one most of these blogs were about, the one I continue to write out of me until one day all he is is words on a page and no longer memories in my heart. Him, I wanted so badly for him to choose me; I forgot I could choose myself. I had done it before, I did it with him and now I find myself doing it again. My need to be chosen, my need to be someone’s choice; it is that need that has and I will have to admit most probably allowed to me be a fool for a bit longer than what was necessary.

The problem with being someone’s choice is that they will always question whether you were the right one. You will always try to prove that you were and still are.

If that is the case, then please don’t choose me. I don’t want to be a choice any more. I don’t want to be your choice.

I am the “without her nothing makes sense” girl.

I am the “she’s a raging fucking lunatic, but she’s my raging fucking lunatic okay” girl. And if I am not that, then I am nothing.

I will no longer settle for mediocre. I will no longer settle for once a week, for excuses, for half arsed efforts.

I will not fight to prove that I am that, that I am the one that’s just right.

I will not push aside others who want to prove to me they are, I will not be to be your only when you are not doing the same.

I will not give us the space to get to know each other when I am the only one making that space. My case will not be pleaded. This is not a game. And I don’t want to win.

What I will do however is walk away. And if you are not running behind me, I will continue walking.

Single & Waiting: But if you like each other, why aren’t you dating?

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

Dating…the word of the day! Adding the title “boyfriend” & “girlfriend”. Dating…people think it’s a good idea. Dating…it’s a no from me, for now.

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Most people know me and my current behavioural pattern, so I don’t get asked that a lot; instead I get asked “why won’t you date him, exclusively?” The answer is rather simple, I’m just not ready for a “boyfriend”.

By no means that this imply I don’t like you, or value the time we spend together, or you as a person and in no way do I think you won’t make a good boyfriend. It’s just that I have seen way too many people rush into relationships that they clearly were not ready for. Relationships are like business deals, you need to absolutely sure about it or it will fail. A boyfriend is not just a title, it is so much more, and most people today don’t get that.

Some of my friends are starting to think that I might never “date” someone again, that they will never get to meet my “boyfriend”. That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that I need to get to know this person and for them to get to know me and only once we do, we can both decide whether or not we want to become the other’s “other”, you know, the significant one, the “significant other”.

You know, there are still people out there for who dating isn’t something as simple as just liking the other, having a crush on the other, or as we say “smaaking” someone. It’s not just a way to get the other person to commit to you exclusively, to get them to not see other people, kiss other people, fuck other people…it’s not, that could happen anyway and the only difference would be is that it’s now called cheating…another label that so evidently exists when two people become the others other.

I will thus continue to take my time, because for me, being able to call someone “boyfriend” means something more than just a way to get him to not want someone else, to not want to sleep with someone else. I want someone to want to be with me so bad that they don’t want someone else, that they miss me and only me, that they can’t wait to see me, hear my voice, my laughter, smell me, kiss me and touch ME. I want to feel that at the end of the day, I can safely invest a part of my heart in that person and in return theirs, in mine.

Don’t get it twisted, I’m not being naive, trying to find a loop hole in the rule book of singledom…thinking if I don’t call someone my boyfriend it won’t hurt him if I were to fuck someone else while I’m fucking him. But who would I really be cheating if I called someone my boyfriend before I am ready to invest a part of my time and energy into them, me. I’d cheat on me. And I have been cheated on, and I know how that can hurt, and so my choice is simple. Don’t be the one to hurt yourself.

This new era singletons find themselves in, allows for relationships to form without having to describe or title what it means. This gives people the space and opportunity to be honest with their feelings, to whom ever it is they are seeing. To express how they don’t want the pressure of calling someone “boyfriend” or “girlfriend”. To just be free and have fun. Because when you take the pressure away from the “title” it allows you to get to know someone without questioning whether having late night swims in lacey underwear will communicate the wrong message, but it allows you to get intimately close to that person so you can figure things out…for yourselves…at your own time.

I’m glad I haven’t slept with this one…yet…it gives us both something to look forward to, if and when the time comes and if or when we are indeed each other’s other. Or if it ever comes.

And if it doesn’t; hey, there’s no break up, there’s no hard feelings, there’s nothing, because there was no “boyfriend” and there was no “girlfriend” , because there was no title to strip.

Love & Heartbreak: It’s not only your address that changes

Uncategorized

There are many reasons this move is happening, a move from a place I’ve called home for a little over 3 years: the flat was sold; I wanted to be in a place that a certain someone couldn’t find me at; but really the only reason was that every single square meter of floor space held either an absolutely terrible memory or an absolutely amazing one…the former, however, was the most prevalent.

As I pack up, emptying the cupboards, clearing the space from all the junk that was stored, things that were left untouched for almost 12 months, I found it quite emotionally taxing. I found a lot of his things, clothes that he wore…clothes that I bought for him…it reminded me of how quickly I had asked of him to leave, it reminded how he left without so many things, it reminded me of how it ended.

Every second item i touched carried with it feelings of anger, sadness, hurt and disappointment. I look at the walls, blood stains still lingers, stains I’ve never wiped away. Food stains too, although it’s actually just nothing but particles of dusty mould now…food stains yes…from things that got thrown at me (yes, that happened). I think, no, I don’t think, I know exactly why I did it: I left it there as a reminder of the physical pain & anguish he had caused me, that every time I see it I will be reminded and it will help me to never go back (that alone is a story on it’s own…for another day though).emotional baggage

I look around yet again, this time at broken items, sets of 3’s that now only has 2, sets of 6 that now only has 3…they are reminders of the trauma experienced in that space, broken pieces of a broken relationship between two broken people, each trying to break the other worse than they themselves are. A space of 85mwas my hell for so long…yet it was also my haven.

And now my time has come to leave my haven and my hell. To start over at a new place and maybe call it home, a place that I can use as a blank canvas and paint a new life with new memories…good ones, ones filled with joy and hope and love.

As I leave, I stand back and look at everything I have. Everything I have was already mine to start with…besides my fabulous “Gladys”…the dishwasher he bought for my 30th birthday…oh how I love that dishwasher…the point is, I already had everything {this was important to note because it made me see how little value he added in our years together} He never built a home with me, it was never his intention, I see this now, albeit a bit late.

Even though I have everything, besides my appliances and furniture…physical things can be replaced and does not matter much to me…but the “everything” I refer to is my life…the love I have in it, the support I have, the friendships and family, the care and understanding of my neighbors, the joy and happiness I get from my daughter. I used to think he was my everything, little did I know.

I walk away from this place knowing that I may not have everything I want, but I definitely have everything I need ~ things & humans

Single and Dating: “The joys of dating”…said no one, ever

Dating, Relationships, women

It’s been a while, this singledom of mine…before that, the last time I was “single” was when I was 19. I met my now-ex-husband when I was young, too young to be with him given the age gap…he waited until i was old enough before he made his move, sweet…and I loved him, and I hurt him, and I let him go,

The next man in my life was around until nearly mid-2014, and I loved him too…but he hurt me, and I hurt him, and I left him. Since then it has been a few long months of a very emotional roller coaster ride of trying to deal with a broken relationship, a violent and deceitful relationship, a relationship that shook me to the core of my being…AND…now throw being single in the mix….whaaaaat?

Can. Not. Cope

Having no one to confide in, no one to talk to at the end of the day, no one to massage my back and to rub my feet..no one to pour that glass of wine and no one to take me to dinner.

Say whaaat?

I realized, in becoming independent again, that (without sounding harsh) but I don’t even need a  man: I can confide in my best friend (who is absolutely amazing), I can talk to my daughter at the end of a long day…go to the spa for a full body massage, have the waiter at a restaurant pour my wine and take myself to dinner!

Problem.Solved

How is it that we as women encapsulate the need for a man down to these trivial and meaningless things? A man should lift you out your comfort zone, heighten your senses, he must support, love, cherish and respect you…speak to you with respect, treat you with kind words and a gentle touch…he must rock your mother fucking world!

singleEventually, after months of living a life in the hopes my lover would return (really…and yes i was that fucking stupid) I decided to accept dates and actually pay attention back to the men who was paying attention to me, I had been alone for a while already and was so torn down by my previous relationship that I looked at everyone as though they were out to get me…I never trusted anyone…I couldn’t open up to anyone. I still can’t, don’t get me wrong…that journey is far from over, but I went…I went on the dates and I tried my utmost best to have fun and meet new people. But alas

It was not fun, it was not a good time for me…it’s tiring and exhausting…and yes that means the same thing, but still…it makes my point. I like wine, so i drink a lot of wine. I enjoy the game…but sometimes I just want to unplug the adaptor and go to sleep.

Perhaps it will change, my feeling towards being single. Perhaps I am yet to meet the man that fills all my wants and needs…perhaps he will come along tomorrow or perhaps never. But till then, I will add that I am very satisfied with my life right now, I have amazing old friends, I have amazing new friends…I have man friends and I have boy friends…lady friends and girl friends…but I am not trusting my heart to any one person right now…that is reserved for someone, someone I may or may not have met yet…who knows, he may be right next to me but my eyes are just not open to him yet.

The joys of being single…said no one, ever…well at least out loud or loud enough that I heard.

Now where’s my waiter with that wine!