Two has no space for one more

The effort that goes into having an adulterous romance/roll in the hay is exhausting. I've always been one to excuse those past behaviors with: "he's not married so he's fair game". Did I ever think about the other girl? No. She did not affect my relationship with her man, so it was cool.

I've been in this Shakespearean tragedy twice. The first time around, it was a decision I made as a result of boredom from being single. Second time around: I wanted attention that I wasn't getting (after pleading for it) from a man I was seeing at the time. I have troubles letting go of something I cherish. It's an attachment issue I'm trying to rehabilitate from.

Anyway, It didn't help that said 1st guy...let's call him Hottie...was a great shag. That's not even what I was after. It was just a bonus! I mean...I meet a hot guy in a foreign land, and it turns out he lives 5 minutes (read: 10 minutes) away from my gran's house?! I got excited. After weeks of having established a "relationship", I found out that he's been in a two year relationship. Hurt? Yes, I was. I didn't love him. Didn't even see myself as his anything even with his daily visits to "check up on me". He was a habit. One I enjoyed thoroughly and it now turned out that I was "the other woman". Did I throw a tantrum and tell him to leave his woman for me? No. I knew even back then that "if he cheats with you, he'll cheat on you". Did I let him go? No. Instead, I did the unthinkable: I formulated feelings for him, so that I could justify why I was still keeping this sex-god around. Alas, that justification didn't last too long either because I eventually got bored with the thoughts of wondering if he's with her and broke things off after a fight that bleached my t-shirt and Hottie's (this is a story for another day).

The other story reads like something out of an "I told you so" book. Girl sees something on Boy's update that reminds her of another Boy she used to love...still loves... who "introduced" her to her favourite rapper. Girl starts to notice that this is not a once-off update...this new Boy is actually someone who has a lot in common with Girl. Problem: Boy has several commitments that Girl cannot compete with. So Girl steps back and allows the "relationship" to be platonic. But then Girl meets Boy for the first time and tries hard to keep from drooling, and well...the platonic galaxy lost gravity and so did the senses and clothes.

I guess I can blame the horns that were in my hormones that day. No? No...that would be a lie. I wanted him for the thrill. For experiencing what could've been. Nothing irks me more than "what ifs". It was all about me. Not him, and most definitely not his person. This is someone whom had I met four years ago, I would've had his babies solely because I was in love with his mind. We could have conversations no one else would understand. We were those annoying people who have inside jokes for everything under the sun. I love it when I don't have to explain things like: "breaking my fast" or my "Ketchup" joke. Not once have I had to explain or break it down for Boy to understand what the fuck I was on about. This sounds more romanticized than it was in my head. Mxm! The difference between Boy and Hottie is that I got too attached to Boy. Great sex and great conversations are my ideal combo and when you have that with someone who is unavailable for anything long-term, you have to let it go. So I did.

Anyway, there's too much effort in being the other woman. Twice have I been her. Not once did I fool myself into thinking that anything concrete would come from our evil doings. Why did I do it then? Simple: I explored those relationships for selfish reasons and let them go for obvious ones.

Dating

Screw that you are the head honcho at your company or that you have swam with sharks. The only other thing that petrifies me more than anything is dating. Ok, I'm exaggerating. But honestly, this is just a daunting and nerve-wrecking experience if you haven't done it in a while. Or worst yet, if you've just come out of what was a long and committed relationship.

The rules of the dating game seem to change a little too often. On which date do you let him kiss you? On which date do you sleep with him? On which date do you lay out your medical history and ailments? When do you even start talking about your past relationships and the unresolved issues that you packed up and took with you when you left it?

I hear: "go with the flow" but you have to understand that some flows are a little too fast, torrent even…or a little too slow and figuring out if you have to paddle or float can be tricky when you don't know how deep the stream is. One small thing can ruin what could have been something special and usually, it's that "expectancy" factor. Granted, the whole dating matter is about getting to know one another but I can’t help but think that more often than not, you already have these expectations of the person you are about to scan on your date. And that sucks!

Coming from a time when I never questioned anyone’s thoughts to now being afraid that anything said or done could render the end of something newly started, is frustrating.

I like you but I know absolutely nothing about you. Maybe not absolute. But it’s not enough for me to walk into a store or a record label or even a bookstore and say: “he would love this”. And then of course you have to stop yourself from thinking about the guy who you know oh so well as you walk through those aisles.

I like being liked. Dating is like me putting myself in a petri-dish and screaming: “like me! Like me!” under that microscope. I hate that. Just like me. And tell me enough about yourself to make me break into a grin when I walk down random streets and aisles and think of you. So, fuck this shit! I am awesome. You just have to keep up with me as we make up our own dating rules.  

Words I Never Said

Nothing sucks more than “what ifs” and/or “if only’s”. They are the bane of my existence. Really. This isn’t so much regret as it is an annoyance. I have a fairly wild imagination and I can create so many outcomes out of a story that lingers on ellipsis dots.

I have full-on conversations with you, in my head, and I sometimes find myself giggling at our “conversations” too. Because I know you well enough to finish your sentences. And then there are those conversations that really hurt…the ones that are closer to the truth and grate my nipples. I didn’t allow myself to have these conversations with you. I basked in the ones that had me giggling and loving you senselessly! I’ve imagined our ellipsis’ finding conclusions in amicable full stops and sometimes in exclamations from frustration.

Now I’m trying to dumb the racket in my head, of the million words I failed to say.

It’s the scenes that play in my head where we meet up again by chance after having cut each other out of our lives. And then I hear you say: “I’m with her, now” and I desperately want you to remember that you weren’t even supposed to forget me, let alone replace me.

Oh! My poor heart!

Who do I even begin to blame? Me, for not having said those words? Or you, for not having said the words I wanted and needed to hear?

Sunrise 123

I suppose Friday nights used to be about summer loving

And in the cold months, they re-ignited some uhhh…loving.

They were never about disappointments and shady dealings

If anything they were times when we actually listened to our feelings.

Those times were like the last four lines

Nothing was forced, not even the rhymes J

*sigh* look...

The sun rose in the east as I headed to the north

And I thought about those Friday nights when the sun set in the west

And all my problems excused themselves and dissolved with the light…

Leaving us to catch up on some loving through the night.

I miss you.

Ninth Wonder

Imagine all that could have been accomplished if only the heart would listen to what the mind tells it.

I’m speaking about relationships here. Not so much about your job or your wanting to leave your better paying job for something you love that won’t afford you bread for a few years.

Anyway, imagine all that could be accomplished if only the heart listened to what the mind tells it. I suppose it’s that whole sensory organs thing. You feel with your fingers, right? Touch is a feeling. Love is a word. The mind is able to recognise feelings and decide as to whether this is smooth or rough, hot or cold and depending on your fetish you’ll be able to decide on whether those things are good or bad; which is why and how sex complicates things. A mutual understanding between two individuals who share common ground is quaked when the bodies meet. Cos what started off as an amazing friendship will just start spawning little emotions that travel to the life-pump and just pretty much messes the whole arrangement up.

In the rape scene in For Coloured Girls where that man came into that woman’s house and said:”Come on, we’re both adults…” I felt shivers down my spine. Is it a common thing that sex is inevitable in a relationship of any kind between a woman and a man, provided that they aren’t related? You undress for someone you like. Someone you already share an amazing bond with that just needs to be personified in the meeting of the two body parts that lock like a nut and bolt. Do you necessarily have to love that person though? Sex is just sex, right? Wrong! Sex isn’t just sex. You look someone right in their eyes, taste their lips and body with yours as they whisper sweet nothings into your gullible ears while their sex is turned on and you both know that there is no turning back as you make contact with their skin and are united in a tussle no words could be fit to describe. Where does the heart come in? Well: When you start attaching memories to every other detail in your life that reminds you of all those senses. The mind knows it only as a memory. The heart will recognise it as something magical and worth preserving. Sex makes the heart do things that were not part of the script. And you can’t control the disastrous avalanche that seems to always follow.

Imagine all that could be accomplished, if only…

Salt; apples and snakes

I've had to make yet another life-changing decision. Not so much as (my erstwhile) earth-shattering one, but still. I was on a course determined by circumstance, and I made the choice to stick to it...until a carrot got dangled in my face *flips weave*.

According to the bible, I'm from a lineage of women who don't listen. When told not to do things, we do them. Rule number 1 was: Do not eat the forbidden fruit. Eve ate the forbidden fruit (although, Adam is actually the one who "ate" the fruit while Eve got friendly with the snake). Lot's wife turned back after being told not to and subsequently turned into a pillar of salt. I relate to both these women. Temptations are hard to fight off. And turning back to catch one more glance of a place that harboured sentimental value is an involuntary response.

Eve wanted something she's never had, and was told couldn't have. She's an ambitious curious young woman who got tired of being boxed and being exposed to a redundant routine. Her body needed to taste a new flavour and being the go-getter that she is, she went out and satisfied her curiosity...breaking ground, breaking rules, LIVING. Ok, so God wasn't impressed. But He knew it would happen. That's why she wasn't banished to hell. She just got evicted out of Eden and had enough sex to procreate two kids.

Lot's wife, being a descendant of Eve herself, knew and understood of the pleasures of the body and knew of the yearnings of the heart. The body can be controlled - by the mind. However, the mind is too familiar with the middle finger the heart flashes in its "face". No matter what we are told, or by whom: when you love something/someone, that's the only voice you'll ever hear...and the only one you'll listen to. Sometimes to your own detriment. Sentimental value is an unhealthy little concept that promotes an attachment to something that's incredibly hard to let go of. Lot's wife had a home in Sodom, and looked back to satisfy the yearnings of her heart...to her own detriment.

I've just made a decision that encapsulates the decision-makings and involuntary actions of both these women. Or at least, I assumed I made the decision. It was pre-determined. We all know that God has mapped out our lives. He knew about the cross-roads, and He knew which course I would take. He had planned it all. From the moment He woke up and decided to create the world, he knew how everyone of us would turn out. The test tube babies have ruined it all though and confused Him a bit. Hence all these disasters. But he knew Eve would give it up. He knew Mrs Lot would turn to salt. He knew I would be a combination of these two women and that his punishments wouldn't be as extreme. I'm about to go after something I've never had. The salt business...I'll leave that up to the Eve in me to sort out.

Romance

I write this now as a very bitter woman. I just recently ended a three year relationship and have been on a mission to be "fine". I suppose to save face...bleh! Most of the people who know me, or think they know me, have only ever known me to be linked romantically to that man. I haven't "broken down" and done the whole chick-flick movie marathon and gone through three boxes of tissues while bawling my eyes out and stuffing my face with chocolate. I just decided that that would not be the route I would take. Plus, I don't really like chocolate.

For the most part, chick flicks and romance novels are bull shit. They're just as bad as songs about being so in love, you'd catch a grenade for that person. Really? Really?!?! It just sounds a lot like a "my balls are bigger than yours" type of scenario. "I took a bullet for her"..."Oh but I'd catch a grenade for her". And then what? You die. She mourns, or not, and finds another idiot who would commit suicide for love...and ego.

I think this romance garbage is the leading cause of depression. Someone needs to conduct research on this; I'll wait for the stats.

Had there not been all these ideals set by Hollywood, record companies and publishers, perhaps letting go of a love-gone-wrong would be easier. I suppose the nagging family and friends add just as much fuel to the tear-jerking drama. It would be easy to just pick up the broken pieces, pack up your heart and vacate the property whose lease has just expired.

But no. Instead, you end up where I am. Bitter. Or worse off: bitter and vindictive with puffy eyes, high cholesterol levels, weight gain issues and a blocked nose from all the crying. I wasn't always like this, you know? I just happened to love someone with every fibre of my being and things didn't work out so well. And I find myself seeing all this love around me and wanting to puke.

I blame movies and songs. And that retarded romance novel I just read. What a load of bullshit! I'll love and be loved again. Hopefully, without a disclaimer attached this time.