Rhapsody's

So where do I go in Pretoria to meet people, to dance, laugh, chat, flirt, stand in a thick crowd of people, smiling with a drink in my hand ?

Rhapsody’s.

The name in itself conjures visions of rapture, delight, ecstasy and makes one hopeful.

Rhapsody’s.

The place where all the over forty singles go to look cool, be seen, hang out .(No. they don’t give you a T-Shirt!)

Rhapsody’s.

I look at anyone who’s been and know they have a social life, they have friends, lots of friends.
These people always seem taller than me, larger than life, popular and with it.
So this is my mission, my goal, to be able to say that I’ve been.
I swish into the parking lot as if I’ve been here plenty and saunter in straight up to the bar counter.

A young man approaches, a sweet smile, his head tilted – condescending.
I ask him if I can order a drink – he says yes of course – he looks confused – he ask where I’m sitting.Nowhere, I’ll be at the pub if that’s ok?

When I dig out my purse and press toward the counter he gets the message and pulls his head in a strange way that makes me think he must have hurt his neck, but he’s smirking, so it can’t be painful.

I boldly order a tonic and soda and the guy grabs two glasses with ice – no, no, mix the tonic and soda in one glass – oh, he says, with eyebrows raised and then a little frown ?

I feel like buying cigarettes to give myself something cool to do, but decide rather to jab my straw into the ice and fiddle around in my glass for a while –

Then I turn my back and lean against the counter , smiling to myself as I send a few sms’s (as if I have a very busy and interesting life)

I smile at Owen’s one word answer as if he’s told me very long and interesting story and reply with a very long and interesting story.

Then I sms Henk and make plans for a Pilates lesson with a look on my face that says I am loved, I have a lover, and I’m getting very sexy messages.

Anyway after arranging my life via sms and exhausting all facial expressions on my list that belie the fact that I feel like a total idiot, I waft out, head held high.

At home I console myself with marie biscuit sarmies slathered together with smooth butter.

Good Weekend?

It’s all I have to mutter nonchalantly,
“Rhapsody’s”

And I too have friends, a rocking social life and don’t I seem just a little taller ?