Kryptonite

There are people you will come across in your life that'll make it damn near impossible to forget or let them go. There's this chemistry that you have where eventually, when you do try to move from them (for whatever reason), they become your weak spot. So if life worked like it does in Mafia movies...and you got locked in a room with two big guys staring you down with the boss' skivvy blowing smoke into your face...and you get this "I got nothing to lose" look because well, you figure life's been shit anyway and has never given you a break...and then the damn skivvy mentions that they know where your Kryptonite is and they know what s/he's been up to...? Look, everything you thought you knew about yourself and where you stand, would fall like a house of cards. Everything.

Kryptonite is terrible. Don't believe me? Ask Superman. The strongest man on make-believe earth is crippled by the mere presence of Kryptonite. In the real world, we've experienced Kryptonite in the form of: "is there anyone who believes that this man and this woman should not wed? Speak now or forever hold your peace." And then someone just walks in and you see that "oh fuck!" look on the bride's face because her Kryptonite, the man she thought she was over but had never left her mind over the years, is finally ready to want to build a life with her. She'd been happy all this time, don't even try to doubt that...but that wasn't the kind of happiness - the Kryptonite happiness - that feels as plain and simple as there is only one way for a jig-saw puzzle to be put together...the kind of happiness that feels effortless and without weight. The kind you'd probabaly need to go to rehab for if you really wanted to get it out of your system.

The situation is tricky. Where you can't even run in any which direction because everything you go through, you want it to be with said Kryptonite. It could take decades for ya'll to meet again and it will feel like just yesterday that y'all were last together. All those feelings enshroud you and whatever it is you thought you were focusing on in your life, becomes but a blur because the one thing that was able to flip your world upside down, waltzed back into a life you were content with living for however long forever was promised by God.

There. Is. No. Cure. For. Kryptonite.

First Borns

My cousin insists that over 80% of the guys that are suitable for us to date, have kids. I can't agree with this, but I understand the frustration in her exaggerations.
Our grandmother was one who fell short of insisting that we give her great-grandkids before she passed away...none of us did. Doesn't help that she thought one of my boyfriends was a gangster cos every time he'd come pick me up, he'd be driving one of four cars (one was his, the other three belonged to his parents and sister. He didn't wanna come in the same car cos he didn't want people to "mark" him RE: hijacks. I didn't explain this to my gran.)

Which brings me to my mom. Now, I've only ever brought two guys home. The first doesn't really count cos well, he lives two seconds from my gran's house and everybody at home knew him; we dated for five years. The second, was a guy I was with long enough for my mom to put a face to because she had had to make several calls to when she couldn't get hold of me [if I was not home, chances were that I was with him]. We had made plans to think about having kids this year, actually. That relationship ended a year ago, unfortunately.

My lifestyle doesn't allow me to even think of entertaining having kids right now. I don't like "hooking up" with guys. I'm a relationship kinda girl. I fall too easily and too hard when I'm with a guy so in order to avert a potential disaster, I spend all my time on the road or on my phone (dodging guys who seem to wanna hookup to pass the time). So you see, babies are not really a part of my short-term plans because of this. However, I DO tend to get broody and have on many occasions mapped out a way I would balance motherhood with my love for the open road and impromptu crazy YOLO (You Only Live Once) moments. The latter happen quite often, and I like that cos I kinda [read: really] hate routines. That I haven't been in a relationship for over a year may also be the reason why I've been yo-yo'ing on this having kids thing. I mean, I have no one to have this talk with...so I have all the current time in the world to free-style the fuck outta this crazy life that I'm living.

About 5 years ago, I dated a guy who had a 6-month old baby. He and the baby-mama fell out before the baby was born cos he felt she was trapping him (pause! Only just realized that I got given "the line" :-(...*sigh*). Long story short, I got annoyed by his whining about the baby-mama and having to run off to see the kid every two seconds (slight exaggeration here) which kinda lead to me mistakenly sending a text about my annoyance, to him. I was upset and frustrated and venting all that in a text that was meant for a friend of mine. I can't remember what I said but knowing me, I couldn't have used euphemisms; unkind words tumble outta my mouth and thumbs when I'm upset. So that's how that relationship ended. I wasn't about to apologize for any of that and neither did I want to patch things up cos my three weeks of step-motherhood became the bane of my existence.

I've since known that I didn't want to be in a relationship with a dad cos essentially, there are four people in that relationship (additional kids obviously add on to the count). For someone who has attachment and sentimental issues, it just doesn't make sense for me to find comfort in having My time with My man, shared with his past and future that have me playing a supporting cast member in his life's story. I've fooled myself into thinking that I could be that girl: The one whose understanding knows no bounds, but I'm not. Not even having fallen for a dad recently has changed my mind. It's a beautiful thing, seeing how he loves his kids...but I want to be with someone who'll be a first-time parent, like me. I want to be with someone who I'll experience THAT first with. It's not to say that guys who've fallen out with their girls become some kind of Kryptonite, no. It's just that that's not what I want for me. It's also a nightmare assuming (from fear) that the baby mama(s) would probably make life a living hell for me as a baby-less woman who is now with the father of her/their kids. I mean, in addition to having had a fall-out with someone you created a child with, you now have to trust some girl who know nothing about motherhood (let alone YOUR child) to co-raise the child with you and his/her dad. That's gotta take some kind of special, non-vindictive person to trust. I don't want to be a part of that equation. There's also the fear that the kid(s) may reject me *sigh*.

I cannot accept the 80% shot in the dark that my cousin fired. Cannot because I happen to know a lot of guys who have no kids (99% of which are having beers in the zone I've sectioned out for them in my friendship circle). I especially know of one who doesn't look set on having kids anytime soon...which makes him someone I should be hanging out with a little more often than I have been. It's not like I'ma catch babies if he sneezes, if anything...it just may be a flu that'll keep us bed-ridden for a while, having a few practice runs for when we DO decide to create a living testament of our love for each other

Stalking 101

When I first registered for Facebook, I knew almost nothing about social networking. I joined because one of my girls insisted on me joining this social network that had become a global phenomenon; so I signed up. I didn’t even have more than two profile pictures for the longest time because I hardly went and checked on what was happening there. I was mostly confused so I opted to observe for a little while. The mind-fuck was in that I only had people I knew personally as friends, and so when I saw other people inviting me who were friends of friends, I always asked them how they knew so and so. I remember how Lesego Mmusi once responded to me and said: “I’ve never met Flo Mokale…he’s just on my friend list”, this after I accepted his friend request on the basis that Flo was our mutual friend…alas!

Five years and more than 1000 “friends” and just under 50 photo albums later, I’m back to being mostly a spectator on Facebook. I’ve had one public relationship, of which I disclosed very little about on that network, and I made a lot of friends in these past years. I was even “discovered” by people I hadn’t seen since High School, and some as far back as Primary School. Facebook had its fair share of fun times, what with my flirtatious ways having landed me in hot water over a man I cyber-dated for almost a year. Like most things that fail to capture my attention, I got over it. I’m on Twitter now.

Well, I’ve been on Twitter since 2009 and technically only started tweeting a year later cos once again, I had to observe how this 140-character social network operated. The day I got the hang of Twitter, all hell broke loose. The world suddenly got even smaller than I had imagined it could be. All the people I admired in the entertainment industry were there. It felt like I was a part of their thoughts and daily habits. Everything seemed to be easily accessible. My thirst and love for all things interesting was being quenched in 140 characters. That was powerful! Having had conversations about nothing and sometimes something with artists I’ve been listening to and never thought would be part of my personal life (even for a few minutes) was just insane! I loved THAT more than anything. You could ask your favourite producer about a beat and any artist about their lines and you’d get a response…well, sometimes (if you’re me, you get a response :-P). The best thing about Twitter however is the immediacy of news. I’ve watched so much TV via Twitter that you’d swear I spent too much time in front of the box. This probably put a lot of tabloids out of business for a little while because celebrities were able to, with their 140 characters, dismiss fabricated articles. But then like almost anything that thrives under spotlights, these very celebrities came back and filled page 3 of daily papers with all the drivel they shared in their unprotected tweets. (Protected tweets kind of defeat the purpose of Twitter…)

Anyway, here’s where the limitations annoy me: people tend not to use their real names on Twitter. I don’t know if this is to further hide behind their tweets in order to bully other children or if it’s to keep a safe distance away from their partners who would possibly frown upon their flirtations and derogatory tweets that are submitted in the name of being mischievous and/or cool. Whatever the reason, it’s annoying! Especially when I have my eyes set on someone whose profile gives almost nothing away. Google can only assist so much, you know *sigh*?

This is where the combination of Facebook and Twitter is an absolute winner. Facebook has people’s history and more info than a congested bio and tweets can offer. I can literally probe profiles and click through photos to my heart’s content (provided that those Facebook profiles are not protected), until I’d feel like what that person was willing to share on the public platforms had further stirred enough curiosity in me to want to get to know them on a personal level.

Social networking has handicapped me into believing that I can get to know people without them having to feed me any information, directly. We share so much of ourselves on these networks that we don’t realize when sharing becomes over-sharing; right down to the photos that we post and revealing the state of affairs that we live under. All these things add up to anyone being able to piece a whole picture of you without you having conversed with, let alone met them.

There really isn’t any prophetic reason for this post. I’m just annoyed at not being able to Google anything further than the twitter handle of someone who grabbed my attention. And if you know me well, you'll know that I hat enot knowing things. Curiosity is a cat that needs to be skinned, and I'll gather the patience of an ugly virgin in my quest to find out more about this man, shears et al in hand.

Dear Possibity

Things have been quite crazy and weird between you and I in the last year, more so in the last 6 months.

When our eyes met for the first time a year ago, it was as though a page had been ripped out of a movie script and personified itself into our moment. In a room that was full of people, yours were the first pair of eyes I met; and we held on to that moment with the understanding that that moment was so much better than the bullshit we were both dealing with in our separate lives. It was beautiful. Those few seconds of possibilities, were beautiful.

But I guess anything that resembles a promise of being different is worth the escape, when you're consistently bombarded with the not-so-in-your-head voices that tell you that most of who you are is not good enough for them. So in the days that followed our meeting, we drafted the blueprint of an escape route that only you and I understood...which lead to date number 1. There are so many possible outcomes that could've sprung from that afternoon. For one, I could've not pitched or not enjoyed myself; which would've lead to date-number-2-until-this-moment, not having happened.

I've questioned your presence in my life because at the moment, more of my parts are made of skepticism than they are made of faith. I'm hoping that this is a temporary malfunction, as even I don't recognize this glitch. I've loved that even amidst the questioning, the exclamations that've been cheering for you (few as they've been) have been annoyingly louder.

I guess I'm writing this to let you know that my interest in you has not waned. It's just that I can't reveal the events that lead to the break in transmission just yet. How you're still interested in me (even with all these unfortunate-looking mixed signals of late) is beyond me. I guess it just boils down to the promising possibilities that we mapped out in the moment our eyes locked for the first time; they're worthy of being explored.

"I miss you" - - - *crickets*

Everyone has that one person that they like but feel incredulously uncomfortable around. Right? Just me, then? Ok. I'll be the poster child for all other fumblers that are hiding behind waterfalls and under tree trunks, then. I don't mind. Well, I do...but. Ok. So anyway, I dunno why I always struggle to come up with a confident and truthful "I miss you too" when presented with the opportunity. Did I say "Opportunity"? *sigh*...

Alcohol helps. Alcohol helps a lot; and all the times that I've been around him, I've needed alcohol to give my vocab a boost so that I could at least string a conversation together and be on cue for the jabs of humour that he throws around. I otherwise fumble and trip over my tongue without the -OH (this is how Chemists represent alcohol: -OH...I miss studying Science...oh Gosh...I digress...). So, to avoid what could be an incredibly embarrassing situation (even though I've decided that I don't get embarrassed), I need some alcohol in my system...lest I elevate to drooling cos my words find it hard to roll outta my mouth.

So it's either I really like this guy (and my friends don't like him at all - LOL); or I'm hoping he'll be a passing fad, eventually. I do nothing to keep him interested; in fact, we hardly talk. But when he's around...and we have those moments that make me picture us lying on a grassy hill, head-to-head facing the opposite direction...I lose all clarity and most of my control. It's in those moments that he'll look me in the eyes (if we're together) or change his tone (if we're on the phone) and say: "I really miss you" and I'll respond with "eerrrr...uhm...yeah, we haven't hung out in a while, ne? My fault!" Works so much different when we text though. I guess it's true that texting makes things so much easier cos you have time to think of a response, unlike with verbal conversations where you have nanoseconds top come up with something that'll keep the conversation flowing non-interview-esque. I go from being an older, sexier PowerPuff Girl, clad in tight leather on a mountain-top in the Captain Morgan pose...to a whimpering Ugly Betty, within seconds.

I wish I had enough time on my hands to conjure up a Nobel Peace winning psycho-analysis of why this guy makes me nervous, alas! Being generally shy also makes such a possible analysis all the more futile cos I combat this shyness with lots of words (most of them unnecessary; so as to have command over the conversation) or with silence cos the neurons in my head get all limp.

It would be interesting to see what events would unravel if I were to gather up some proverbial balls and string a sober sentence together. I might even be able to remember our conversations this time. Yeah, let's see what happens the next time I'm around him. Or maybe I should just start by getting comfortable with a truthful: "I Miss You Too."

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.