Too Many Options : Day 67 #100daysofwriting

We have too many options and it's making us noncommittal.

Consider things like online dating and dating apps. Goodness me, I've been down that road a few times and felt the rejection. I've also hideously rejected. Or wavered in my attentions. Why? Because we are convinced that something better is around the corner. I've found myself dismissing someone based on their finger nails... ok, maybe no spark too, but those finger nails.... it was never going to work. Manicure? Nah, don't think it would have helped. Let's order our next date off the internet on the way to the car.

Why commit to one pair of jeans when you can have them in every single colour and only wear them once? We don't even need to leave the house to have them all delivered. Alright, admittedly I find it easier to find clothes that I want to keep forever than men. And jeans don't mind time-sharing your legs. Is it just me or did that sound awful? I don't think "bottom" would make it any less dodge.

I suppose we can eat food from all over the world without even hopping in the car, let alone a plane. I live in a very vibrant neighbourhood and have Mexican, Thai, Italian, Jamaican and Portuguese food all within walking distance! I really don't feel the need to choose one venue as my "local".

Honestly, I think it is actually only awful when it comes to dating, and I've had the same conversation with a number of people over the last week. Why choose? Why settle down? Don't we have a desperate need to be accepted and loved, held as favourite? Surely it appeals to have a constant presence in our lives? So why are so many people my age running around in mad circles to date as many people as possible? I'm guilty in my own way, and I really could have been persuaded to have a second date with at least a few of the guys - even the weird nails one. But then again, I have not met anyone that I really clicked with romantically in a very long time? Am I fussy or complex? Maybe sobriety makes me fussy? Or is it careful?

I've decided to just focus on the constants in my life, they need appreciation and attention. I'm tired of all the fickle online shopping.

His Guitar : Day 56 #100daysofwriting

He plays his guitar
Like a natural
Like breathing
With a lazy rhythm
Fingers in slow motion
Weaving colours
Bursting into imagination
He plays in a way
That makes me want to paint
Big swirls of colour
With both hands
Makes me want to dance
Naked under pine trees
Makes me want to sing
Secret songs of summertime
He bites his lip
In concentration
Maybe to hold back
The explosions of genius
Intense concentration
Across his brow
Belies the lazy rhythm
Paint, pine, song
Swirl before my eyes
The tempo picks up
Carrying me away
The lazy strumming
Beats like birds wings
Against my heart
Breath catches
Music swirls

Hellentines' 2015

Valentines' Day… the degree to which I am anti Valentines' is totally eclipsed by how badly I secretly want to be spoilt rotten. Absolutely a case of “I think the lady doth protest too much”. 

I feel like I’ve been brain washed to accept that the men I associate with aren’t romantic, flowers are expensive and die, no one is going to write me a love letter, holding hands is sweaty, and if someone gives you a back rub you’re going to have to reciprocate so don’t even ask.

Through High School I always had someone to send me a rose – we’d gather in the hall to receive roses sent from the boys’ schools. As far as I remember I usually got at least one, never from an actual admirer through!

At 15 my very first boyfriend broke up with me 6 days before Valentines' Day – after I’d planned a very romantic double date at Laser Quest. I really don’t blame him, I’d been a bit of a bitch, but the injustice of singlehood on Valentines' was horrific.
Fast forward to the Vday when I baked heart shaped biscuits for a boyfriend, with great difficulty because I’d been stabbed in my arm a few days earlier, I don’t think he even got me a card. Then the Valentines' where I cooked a lovely meal and bought my own flowers with grocery money my boyfriend had given me.

Now Hellentine’s 2015 I was going to play wingman at a wedding but the plan has changed. So I tried to make plans with a guy friend who had previously expressed the desire to boycott the whole commercial holiday, but he has plans now. So I sit and wonder if I should spend the day with someone random and I wonder why I even care. I’m vaguely “seeing someone” who I have honestly not seen in almost 2 weeks or spoken to this week – I think I need to categorise him along with the Easter Bunny. I’m absolutely not prepared to ask about the status quo.

Bottomline… why do I care? Why do I want the mushy ridiculousness? Why do I want to punch couples who say they don’t celebrate Valentines’?

Faux Romance #100creativedays Day 49

Great title.
Now for content...

Internet dating, I know you like to read about that. OK, so, claiming that I need content for my writing and even more bizarre stories, I launched back into online dating and added a nifty match making app to the mix. I use the word nifty in jest, its plain bizarre. I'm not going to name sites as I neither wish to promote nor criticize.

Anyway, these guys! Seriously, has Hollywood not made it clear that serial killers lurk around every corner? Didn't I mention my obsession for crime shows? A marathon of "Criminal Minds" taught me more than enough about real life. That said - why would a man suggest that a girl come over to his house for the initial meet? Crime scenarios aside, I'm afraid I may be greeted by said man draped in a shorty kimono with Barry White crooning in the background. Or maybe he's only asked me round to babysit the twins while he goes on a real date....

Then we have the super lonely hearts... How many times can you mention your ex in one conversation? What? She left you at the alter? Please tell me all... Yes I'm a great listener.... Not.
I've just drifted off into a fantasy of popping a laxative into any offenders coffee... But the considerate lad might gas me with stench rather than skip out on a free therapy session.

I've also come across a new breed of "sorta single"... Do I look like I want your crazy girlfriend phoning me? I already have a stranger trying to dictate my access to a guy friend. I don't share well, nor do I deal well with other peoples issues of trust and integrity.

Hope you had a chuckle. ;) more venting another time

Xxx

Why I don't want to date you #100creativedays Day 35

Close on the heels of yesterday's post... I ask you, what do you bring to the table?

Again... I've rubbed shoulders not only with the illiterate, but the down-right-inappropriate. This might sound horrifically judgmental, but why would I, a 31 year old with property and 10 pensionable years of work under my very stylish belt, want to date a 19 year old Butlers Delivery Boy? I did that when I was 19 and it was beneath me... Ok, ok, the particular guy was doing that as his JOB, not as pocket money while studying Rocket Science.

But back to present Butler, yes, he found me online. His reply to "we're not in the same life stage" was met with "I want to get married and have kids too!" - aw, bless... No. Judging from his photos, Butlers doesn't pay enough for him to buy a shirt let alone nappies.

The notion of a man supporting a woman 100% financially is seen as old fashioned... How do we see a woman supporting a man 100% financially? Not fashionable... As in, a woman would have no money for fashion... I fail to see the draw card...

Then we get the guy who at close to 40, does not own a car for some hippy reason - he rides a bicycle, and doesn't really like to be more than 500m from his home. His idea of a first date is "come over and cuddle on the couch" - eeep, NO.

I have no intention of being the primary chauffeur. No. Been there, done that, had my driving criticized within an inch of my sanity...

The men with cars and property seem to be old enough to be my dad - I do not want step children old enough to have matriculated with me!

Whilst still a vegetarian I went on a few dates with a guy who worked for KFC. Yeah... That made sense.

I do have a checklist of sorts, I don't deny it, I think it's important. Surely a tall, Christian, early 30s, car owning, job having, intelligent, single, straight man exists in Cape Town? Oh and please let him be sort of attractive...

Please Don't Date Me #100creativedays Day 34

I've dabbled in my fair share on Online Dating, dated a man or two based purely on his biceps, and at least one foreigner.

Ok, foreigner aside... Spell check much?
I am not a 12 year old girl, you are not a 12 year old girl, why write messages to me in the broken excuse for English that is "sms\chat\whatsapp speak"?

No, I do not want to "chat nawty"... with that spelling... I do not want to communicate with you at all! What? You reply with "thort u kewl"

I once went on a date with a guy who besides being a stingy tipper, sent me this joke (spelling as is):

"Wot did the pencil say to the cumpus? Make the sirkle bigger"

Every fibre of my being screams. Is it THAT difficult to spell correctly? To throw a logical sentence together?

there vs their
your vs you're
practice vs practise (ok, lesser known)

I understand small mistakes: sometimes we type too fast, on the run, drunk, half asleep... But if you're completely incapable, in this age of spell check and autocorrect... Please just go... This girl sure as heck ain't interested!

"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get spell check..."

Addiction #100creativedays Day 32

I admit my addictive personality, I must say I always dismissed it as a concept because I didn't get into smoking or feel the need to try weed more than a few times. I was obviously blind to the real addictions that had already taken hold.

As with all addictions, mine centre on escaping situations and escaping my feelings, escaping my common sense, a longing for distraction, comfort and affirmation. I used to drink, like a lot, for all of the above reasons. I used to claim that I was just classy and appreciated wine... But I used to enjoy the oblivion I could achieve, the confidence I could fake. I used it to hide and to lie. Alcohol needed to be weeded right out of my garden in order for me to thrive spiritually, the lies were too much for me.

The other three addictions are the kind of things that need to be reined in, or they will destroy me. Food, men and shopping.

Food will not only make me fat, but ill if I abuse it. I get a very short lived comfort from carbs and chocolate. I mostly just feel ill.

Men. Well... Longing after the wrong ones, taking things said in anger to heart, putting too much value in the attention and affirmation of men. I find that without alcohol... I have very little tolerance of idiots... This doesn't bode well in dating.

Shopping... Well spending and spending on things is unhealthy. Cupboards full of clothes, the temporary high, the tokens of status. It's so empty. I've totally embraced budgeting and feel freedom already.

I feel off kilter, and my addict is needy today... I needed to just acknowledge in order to put her in her place. I ain't got the time for empty solutions... I'm going to face my dragons face on.

Xxx

#100creativedays Day 1: bringing blogging back

I spoke to a writer friend about my "blog-block"... How I was struggling to even start my first post after all these months. She suggested I just write. Coupled with a new challenge of #100creativedays - today seemed like the day, and the topic would be broad.

I have been sober for 201 days as of today, and just completed #100happydays (more about that in a different post) and my new challenge is to do something creative everyday and post it. Fortunately writing counts in this case, so I'm free to waffle on and essentially find my "writing mojo" again.

On the subject of mojo, I feel like I have a collection of mojo's and most of them have gone missing. I've been single since early January - the break-up hurt more than it should have, my self-esteem took a wild dip and it really didn't help that I was delving into some deep rooted personal issues at that stage of my recovery. I still feel raw at times. It sucks when you can admit that you actually screwed up and there is no fixing it. Maybe this is why I couldn't write for months, I was feeling too much. I'd like to say I've been 90% mature about it and 10% a screaming toddler. But I live on, albeit jaded.

 My weight took a smack over the festive season, I gained 4kgs and took months to wiggle it down again... Then in the course of 5 weeks I attended 4 weddings, my dad turned 60 (SO MUCH CAKE) and, well, Easter happened. I hit the carb and sugar train so hard and the 4 extra kgs came back. I feel a little stubborn about wiggling them away again... It's almost winter you know!!

Work, phew... TEN YEARS with the same company and I seem to have hit a wall mentally. Things are improving but I always live with the fear that complacency is indicative of depression, and I'd really like to think I'm taking steps to sort my $#1+ out!!! Golly... Someone give me a break on the emo vibes already!

On a positive note, assuming I haven't lost you already... I do have my sober-party-mojo back, some male attention (wrong males though!), been told I look skinny twice today, and that my boss really believes in me! SO, maybe I need to just slip off my doom 'n gloom glasses and embrace life?'Nuff said.xxx

Interesting Advice

I read an article on The Daily Mail website last month that I found both shocking and intriguing.

With a typically descriptive DM title: "The cruel reality of living in an open marriage: Olivia agreed her husband could have one affair a year and she could kiss 10 men... but then he fell in love with a mistress"

Although I am not familiar with the writing of Olivia Fane, she strikes me as having the kind of life story that can only result in sincere writing. I'm not going to give you the whole story, read the article if you are interested.

Two things stood out for me:
Firstly the unfairness of her "open marriage" arrangement with her husband, and how real freedom actually comes from being true to one person. It may seen obvious, but I think sometimes we need to be reminded.

Secondly, the advice from her mother, not the part where she tells her daughter to take a lover after marriage, but rather the following:

"Always tell a clever man he's handsome, and a handsome man he's clever."

How very interesting.... and it makes a lot of sense. For years I dated a very good looking man, he's actually a model. Surprisingly he places very little value in looks, but rather practicality and knowledge. Personally I'd like to be told that I'm beautiful and clever... I'm not really sure which I'd rather be know for... pah, being clever, obviously ;)