My Observations

*BE awesome today and give. When we give, we can only loose spiritual weight (heaviness). We become lighter and so higher and free.......gaining spiritual depth. Freedom loves best of all...

*Try not to run away from your emotional pain. You will run in a very wide circle only to confront that very same thing again. Beat your breast, cry it out, scream out your pain, vomit! Demand that it looks into your eyes and look into the centre of it's darkness. Allow it to deplete you for the moment and surrender....when you get up you can leave that shed skin, that dried up piece of exhausting torture lying in the dust. The wind will come up and blow it away.

*Be brave, throw away the labels and allow yourself to let go - find the fences within yourself that keep you in the comfortable field of daisies, destroy them and expand! Run into beauty and unchartered seas....there is more!
Love unconditionally, there is no place for fear.
Expanding the mind and finding the fences that keep one locked in a place of recurring behaviour, realising that one is not one's labels and to try and debunk the rules of civility (just for the duration) to grow oneself to "more".

*When I change my mind, some would say I've lost my marbles when all I've done is freed them up to roll around allowing me a new perspective........MgM

*Listen to yur heart, do what u know is right and Keep joining the dots regardless.......the picture eventually becomes clear - there is a purpose for yur life!

*Life IS like a box of chocolates.......so why eat the orage creams if you don't like them?

*your capacity to love and forgive someone's actions is directly related to the understanding of where they're coming from and how much pain they're in

*Go ahead and pull my chain, just remember it's attached to the plug

* Knowing your weakness is what keeps your arm straight and strong to hold the sword that keeps the black dog shrinking at it's tip.....

* Look deeply into the eyes of people you meet.....there's a reason you've encountered them - listen to their souls - expand your heart to enfold them. We are all one.

* The truth of who you are, and where you are is evident in your energy, advertised in you eyes, obvious in your body

* Steal a dragons energy right from under her smiling eyes, but don't be surprised to find her claw clamped to yur tail when you turn to sneak away

* As your cog turns so it affects every other in the universe....turn only in kindness

OM

There are times when one wonders if things will work out
The confusions of words and perceptions, and shout
“But wait!”…. just let time do it’s marvelous thing
Of sorting the driftwood, the hearts and the string

 All the pieces drift heavily, slowly along

And the river it rises, it hears a new song

“What’s this?”….that lies behind the stone

Don’t you fret there is purpose, the universe knows

Surrender yourself to the moment of truth

Open your hand and let go of the sleuth

 “Give up!”….Trust in love and let joy abound
The answers will come and peace will be found

There's light!

There’s light at the end of a long dark tunnel

It draws us ahead to the sun

Then the sun warms our skin with a gentle reminder

We’re in this together, we are kin

There’s a moon in the midnight lake of the sky

Our dreams bathed in cool attire

We surrender our anguish resting in peace

There will always be a window

When the stars are bright, we feel love and light

And a promise the universe holds

When the night is too long and the darkness throngs

There’ll always be tomorrow

It's a new day!

A new day is born, with longing to be full

This time will never come again

This time is ours to fill

New day, young day, come on unto me

And it will be my pleasure to keep you company

How we cross the river is up to us

A man came across a raging river on his journey. The river was fast and furious and he had to cross within the hour. There was a suspended bridge to the far bank but when he looked closely it looked very unsafe. Scooping low across the raging torrent the slats were loose, some were missing and the rope looked frayed. There was a kayak lying on the bank with a pair of paddles and he was pleased. When he got a closer look there were a few holes in the kayak's frame. He looked up and saw that there were some prominent rocks in the river and one could possibly jump from rock to rock although the rocks seemed to be covered by moss and would be slippery.

Two monks were sitting peacefully on the bank meditating.
The journeyman asked which of the options would be the safest to cross the raging river.
Both monks looked serenely at the man
The bridge? the kayak? or the rocks? Please help me he implored.
One of the monks bowed deeply and said "I will ask the wise man"

The journeyman was thrilled as the monk turned to the wise man and asked

"Zrbgfufirezugfhoiewurlhbglirkfv ?"

The  said,

"Jzhdgizhgflisuhfzo;e ;rludfhslidufhz
;soifsdlukghzl;bvjhn;ofhg;zlkfjvnk.jb.khf;zfgbk.dfjvn.lfgn.
igfolizusgflidbj.ziugzlsjdf ziekfghlziusjfbkzsldk
jZikjygfkls

What does he say? what does he say? questions the journeyman impatiently.

The monk looked calmly at him and answered with a smiling face and a deep bow.

"Good Idea!",
"You pick!"
"Each way has it"s own problems."

Half a century - a poem from my children

*Mandy’s life is never a bore …..At Natures Place number 64
*Pilates is her bread and butter …..”I want my mommy”, grown men mutter
*Even if her clients are on all fours …..she doesn’t discriminate – “she strengthens cores”
*I have never seen a skill any finer …..as she’s driving, texting and applying eyeliner
*Almost a crash and a disastrous show …..she looks at the victim and says “Helloooo!”
*She never does bad I tell you that …..unless she is stealing the neighbours cat!
*At able-bodied people she’ll  be angry and barking …..only when they’re in the disabled parking
*Then she surprised us all as a heartstopper …..when she popped on our screen as Pick ‘n Pay smartshopper
*But lets turn our heads away from blame …..what I’m here to say is this girls got game
*Wherever Mandy dares to roam …..she turns a house into a home
*Even in a house of ice …..she’ll make you feel so warm and nice
*You have made three, Will Jo and Dan …..I tell you now we’re your biggest fans
*You’ve been there for us through thick and thin …..and given us the best chance for us to win
*She never gets tense, stressed or brawly …..thanks to the power of now and Eckardt Tolle
*Creative, insightful, talented galore …..cycling, swimming, music and more!

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink

April is the gardener in my complex and was doing a “job on the side “ for me……..during complex work time…..he said when he had a moment he’d work on digging me a new bed.

I got home from a sweaty session at Virgin Activ and got to work on my computer, putting off a much needed shower. 
From outside I heard a long and worried wale... “MIESIEEEEEES! ons het a GROOT probleeeem!!!”
I jumped to the back door and watched the powerful rise of a water fountain pouring up and out of the ground.
"Moet ek vir Miss Rista bel!!" (the complex manageress)…..NO! Madame! I'll be in BEEG trouble – his eyes the size of saucers.

Standing still for a few seconds looking blankly at April, I had an idea!

I tell him to make a duck. 

He runs.

I jump.

Into the red muddy water.

Smearing my face and clothes with red mud and rolling up my pants I look around for my phone.
"Rista! come quikly, I've hit a water pipe" I shout down the line and she appears around the corner two minutes later with a surprised face.
"Hemel maar jy werk jou gat af hier!" says Rista.
I smile and nod.
She calls the plumber who gets there is about 5 minutes flat. I'm impressed.
Unfortunately he has to close down the main water supply and gets to work. I have just enough time to shower and run.
So I make sure he has everything he needs and ask him – “so, there’ll still be water in the geyser?”.
Nope, the water won’t even come out of the taps! Huh? No pressure! Of course!

What now ???

It’s time for a swim in the complex pool. Brilliant! Not perfect, but it's a solution. I quickly don a bathing suit and grabbing a towel I sprint up to the pool area. 
The water was beautifully cool as I rubbed at my stained body as hard as I can.
When I get back the plumber is up to his ankles in red mud and I tell him about my wash in the complex pool and “caprivi shower” swearing him to silence.
I commend him on getting to me so quickly and he says “no problem I was on lunch, I live at No. 9” 

Ah, nice.

I roll my eyes.

I'm off!

As I approach the gate I see Rista (the complex manageress) with her clipboard, pursed lips and pen. April is walking toward her -

I open my window and shout "Hey! April!"

"Yes Miesies?", he hollers.

"Dankie vir die pik wat jy my geleen het,  jy sal nie glo wat gebeur het nie!"

"Wat Miesies?", he shouts.

and with a big wave, accelerating out of the gate, "Ek het 'n blerrie waterpyp gekap!"

Shrivatsa

The Auspicious or endless knot
 is a geometric diagram which symbolises the nature of reality where everything is interrelated and only exists as part of a web of karma and it's effect.      

Having no beginning or end, it also represents the infinite wisdom of the Buddha and the union of compassion and wisdom.

French Fantasy to Dirty Disappointment...One date - both sides of the story?

French Fantasy
(The date from my perspective)

I was looking forward to the breakfast date with Jean-Pierre on Sunday. His name sounded so French, he looked so smooth. Well groomed with dreamy green eyes and a funky scarf around his neck.

Friday night was drumming circle and I head out of town with my Djembi. The drumming circle had become my “therapy” since the divorce. Drumming for four hours pulls you into a zone of listening to the beat that connects deeply with your soul and forces you into the moment. The only hangover one has the next morning is the thickening and sensitivity of your hands. The pads of my fingers develop tiny splits that take a few days to heal, but it seems a small price to pay for the pleasure. My thumb was bleeding and I put on some ointment and an old-style material plaster. I was a first aid fundi after being married to a doctor for so long.

Saturday was spent in the garden and I dug around planting some lettuce, watering and feeding my veggie patch.

On Sunday morning I woke up early to the chirping of the birds on the bird-feeder and smiled. I’m happy, really happy and have a date!

I decided to get dressed casually and wore jeans. I’d just bought a zooty pair of black soviet takkies and decided to wear them as I chucked the smart leather slip-ons back in the cupboard. Remembering Jean-Pierre’s cool scarf from his profile pic, I threw a checkered scarf around my neck.

I had bought a leather back-pack on the midlands meander during the time my children were in high school in Natal. I transferred the contents of my bag into the soft folds of the brown leather.

As I ran out the door feeling free and pretty I grabbed a big clip and coiled my hair up into it. I switched the spraying water off as I passed the tap. My cat sat up proudly at the gate. I bent down to give her a last cuddle and whispered “wish me luck” into her ear.

I turned the Vivaldi up and drove fast enjoying the empty Sunday morning roads.

As I got out of my sleek silver car I harbored a delicious feeling of excitement, and noticed the greengrocer next to the restaurant. I would pop in after to get a healthy lunch.

I chose a table at the window so that I could keep an eye on the parking lot.

A very large man waddled in and headed towards me. I assumed he was going to sit at the next table, but when I looked into his face I recognized Jean-Pierre!
I was a bit taken aback.
The man was very fat.
The profile pics were carefully taken and some must have been years old.
He was at least ten years older than what he’d said!
The cool scarf he’d worn in his pics had been hiding a very fat neck.
There was no denying that Jean-Pierre had once been a very attractive man. His green eyes were still dreamy but I caught a hint of a tender heart and although he said his name was French, he definitely wasn’t French. I know of couples that name their children after the country they conceived, which means absolutely nothing to anyone else but themselves.

He leaned in to greet me and I turned my face sharply away from his pursed lips.
I was polite through the breakfast, very polite. At one point he got a dreamy look in his eyes. He stared at me hard, scooped his teaspoon into the cappuccino foam and brought it up to my lips. His chin lifted a little and he smiled seductively, coaxing me with his eyes to accept his offering. 
Taking the spoon gently out of his hand, I stammered a little and said pathetically “oh shame, not to worry, I have my own foam.” I immediately wanted to slam my forehead repeatedly into the table in front of me. What an idiotic thing to say!
I didn’t want to hurt him and didn’t want my disappointment to show. I smiled and blinked and nodded – a lot. I asked after his children, his life and his dreams - we all have them. We all reach into the fantasy world and dream of a romantic encounter that may just catapult us out of our reality.

If I had to judge him according to my disappointment I would have judged him harshly.

He’d  sold himself well and almost tricked me into believing that he was whole.

All I could feel was pity.

 Dirty Disappointment
(French Fantasy bookend - Jean-Pierre)

I’m a man.
I’m a broker.

I’m Jean-Pierre.

I’ve done well in my life and have been well-loved.

I’m well travelled, have been to amazing destinations and have lived up to now, a full and rich life.

I have a big home and a big car and I’m ready to retire.

All I need now is a loving partner, someone to spoil. We’ll travel the world. She’ll spoil me and we’ll walk hand in hand on the beach. We will lie in each other’s arms and I will be complete.

The weekend has been quiet but I look forward to meeting Maureen. I met her on the dating site and can’t help wondering, could it be?, the lady of my dreams? Our chatting was sexy and sharp. Her profile pictures are smart and she looks neat and well groomed. She was married to a medical doctor. I think she’s loaded too, which is a bonus. I feel a stirring in my loins. This is it, this is it!

Yesterday I had the 4x4 washed. This car is a good indication of how well I’ve done. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved.

Don’t overdo the aftershave. It’s expensive and understated. Just enough.

My hair has grown a little and I turn and look at my profile in the mirror. Not bad for my age, enough so to have lowered my age on my dating profile by ten years……..but you’d never say.

I definitely have presence. The extra weight that has crept on over the years can easily be shed.

Reversing out of the drive I feel empowered. I’m on top of my game. Yessir!
I scan the restaurant as I enter and she’s already there, I recognize the mass of hair piled on her head. Maureen! This is a good sign. She’s obviously keen. I have the upper hand.

I saunter over and bend to her upturned smiling face, which she turns sharply as I aim for her lips. She may be Italian, the Italians do that. It’s an Italian thing and she is dark.

As she greets the waitress I do a quick scan and my heart sinks.

Maureen turns back to me smiling too widely and looking at me in a strange way. I can see the tension in her eyes. Oh no, please don’t tell me she’s on Prozac! She’s tense, very tense.

Her hands are also wrecked!  I notice the dry swollen skin and the cracked and almost bleeding finger tips with a feeling of panic that I hide. She must be a nail biter or have a nervous condition. Maybe she’s malnourished? I smiled and we chatted but I couldn’t keep feeling a little revolted by a grubby plaster she had wrapped around her thumb. What germs are hiding in that moist decaying little bundle of cloth?

I was expecting something else I must admit. Her cheap black hippie takkies and jeans look was too casual for me. The scarf around her neck was Palestinian rebel movement issue and I wondered if she had escaped from a place of torture. She certainly looked tortured.
I enquired about her stay in the country and she assured me that she was South African and was living in her own home around the corner. I wasn’t sure that I could believe her.

Back-packers came to mind. Her backpack looked well used and I pictured her travelling the world with her thumb up on a desperately outstretched arm. Her shoes had grass on them and was that? I think yes, cat hair, on her jersey.

Maureen must be having a torrid time and I even offer her a spoon of my foam as a friendly gesture. She declined but I could see she would have loved me to take her in my arms and wipe all her fears away.

When I eventually paid and we said our goodbyes, I knew that there was something very wrong with this situation. I wanted to walk her to her car and she made a lame excuse about going to the greengrocers to get lunch. I think she had walked and couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

I will go back and continue my search. I had put my hopes in a smart picture and a coiffed hairdo. I had visualized a life together.

She’d sold herself well and almost tricked me into believing that she was whole.

All I could feel was pity.

French Fantasy and Dirty Disappointment .....they are one and the same date seen from both sides…………

From Chatting to Spanking

Sometimes I wonder how I got from the point of “just chatting” with someone to feeling a certain affiliation with a spanker?

One starts off setting up boundaries and non-negotiable conditions. The man asks, can we chat? Well that’s innocent enough. We start chatting and I open up a little and he opens up a little. We share family details, employment and hobbies. We laugh at the same joke and we exchange numbers. I stipulate friends only and I’m feeling comfortable that we are clear on where we stand.


Question one creeps up on me innocently, “are you conservative?”………Well no I’m not but there is a huge gap between saying “Fuck” when you stub your toe and having casual sex with a stranger. So, am I conservative? Yes and No, please clarify what you mean.


Question two is acceptable. “Are you seeing anyone?” No I’m not, but I wonder what that has to do with us being friends and chatting?

I offer a facebook friendship and am surprised that he’s not on. A single person on the dating site but not on facebook seems odd….but I accept. I find that I can very quickly pick up someone’s setup by watching their facebook activity. Allowing you on also indicates an openness which is a positive sign.


Question three has me a little worried. “Could we meet discreetly?” The only way for me to handle this is to act as if I’m an imbecile. So I ask “for coffee?” “Why would we have to be discreet about meeting for coffee?”. “Yes, that would be fabulous, I’d love to meet for coffee somewhere in the Mall.”…


..Hello, hello? Are you there?


It’s worse than the man who asks outright for a spanking partner. At least you know where you stand! I think he would make a wonderful friend……He’s direct and you can be too. When everything is open then one can feel safe. The freedom to choose when you have the options in front of you is wonderfully empowering.


I spoke to spanking Sandy and he said that many people were shocked by his fantasy. He also said that the dating site censored him for explicit content. He did also say that he got a few conservative ladies enjoying his request to the fullest and the ages ranges from mid-twenties to mid-sixties.


..Hello, hello? Are you there?

I Know You!

I registered on a dating site in the morning and by the afternoon I had a list of forty five men interested in chatting. I’ll admit, not all of them wanted to chat and most of them were more than ten years my junior. Why is it that the men of forty want twenty year olds and the men of thirty want cougers? One young married man, twenty years younger than me apparently wanted to have a steamy affair. I told him to go and buy his wife a bunch of flowers and blocked him.

The strangest pickup line I’d heard was, “but I thought I saw you just this morning!”

When I told Paul so, he laughed and said he was dead serious. I had made Photostats in his print shop that morning and he recognized me on the dating site. What are the chances?!
We started chatting and although I was way older than him, he said that he’d like to send me his standard “first chat note”, just in case I changed my mind? Yes, of course, I agree, finding this most fascinating.

 The “standard” first chat note was a letter telling of how he saw my face and knew that I was THE ONE. He had had a dream and…………………besides being the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he LOVED what I said on my profile and it’s so amazingly similar to his. I’m classy and the best thing that’s ever happened to him to date. This is a match made in heaven, I have been waiting for you. We have to meet, you can’t miss this chance. I KNOW you!

The letter goes on and on extolling the virtues of said love match.

“So Paul, the same letter goes to all the women you’d like to meet?”, I ask.

“Yes, copy and paste”, Paul replies, “you interested?”

 I laugh “Well! Yes and no.”

 Yes, I’m speechless!

 …and no, I’m not interested.

Budget Breakfast

I have been delving into New Age philosophy and meditation and so, on my dating site profile I specify, no Christian men, but certainly spiritual. Also I have been out with a few Afrikaans men and they are certainly not keen on my independence and I specify that English as home-language is non-negotiable. This cuts out a large slice of the traditional pie which I assume greatly narrows the field.

I get a request from a man to “chat”.


His profile pic is under lock and key.

Why would a man do that?


Is he hiding because he’s high profile and one may recognize him? Is he shy and protecting himself from hoards of sexually frustrated women?

Is he arrogant?

Is he wanted by the authorities? 

Whichever it is, he sends me a few formal pictures of himself in a suit and we start the process. His English isn’t good, he rates himself as very attractive (I would say average, but he obviously has a great self esteem), he’s apparently well educated and wealthy…ok, we’re off to a good start. I notice and ignore the tick at the conservative politics block, the fact that I find out that he isn’t Russian but Afrikaans and that he has a hotmail e-mail address. A little light goes on in my brain when a non-descript hotmail or gmail address is used although I understand that anyone would protect themselves from the thousands of crazy people out there.

Ok, so I understand that he hasn’t a clue in this area and change tack, busying myself with toast and butter.

He may have got the wrong impression on the outset when I said “yes, oooh yes, lets sit in a cubicle, I LOVE a cubicle!”

As I turn to him his Apple i-pad is aloft and clicks with a corresponding flash of light in my face.
I’m curious about his upbringing and the fact that he hasn’t found someone suitable in the twenty years since his divorce. I get as a reply the list of cars he owns and the number of international properties he’s bought. I press on and ask about his spiritual convictions, which are to be expected, traditionally Afrikaans.


What do you say to that? He needs it for my cell number, he says, but I realize that he must have some serious boundary issues and I’m starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

“On the contrary Piet, I’m more New Age in my approach. Have you heard of Eckard Tolle?”
“Well then, don’t read to me out of the Quran!”, he spits, getting agitated.

“I was, but am deleting my facebook profile soon, it’s rubbish!”
“I have a moffie, called Casper de Vries as my friend and I don’t even know him, and yesterday I see some Nigger is there as well!”


As I started my car he parted with, “You know, the older you get the more difficult it’s going to be to find someone, I hope I see you soon.”
I drove out feeling a little rattled, enough to pull into a mall close to home - just in case.
I parked and sat for thirty minutes. I had to smile.

We meet and happily greet at a popular coffee shop and as we sit in the cubicle he pats the seat next to him. I ignore the “pat” and sit where I’m comfortable opposite him. It’s awkward, let’s face it, but I’m open and confident and start chatting about kids, jobs and the weather when he grabs my hand. I’m a bit taken aback and smile politely under his pressing fingers, he’s obviously nervous, the tiny beads of moisture on his lip a dead give-away. I ever so gently extract my hand in the search for a tissue and with two hands dab at my chilly nose.

“Piet, did you have a look at my non-negotiable boxes on my profile? I’m not a Christian and this fundamental difference is not conducive to a great relationship, don’t you think?”
“As long as you aren’t a bible puncher then I’m happy” he replies.
As soon as my hand is free he again grabs it and starts milking my fingers urgently, breathing loudly. He has an odd look on his face, as if he’s trying to tell me something with his eyes? I’m not quite sure where this is going but he does and takes my hand under the table onto his knee. Luckily I didn’t sit on his “pat” – I now have clarity and a disturbing vision of what he was intending, had I been sitting any closer.

I extract my hand yet again and bleat pathetically, “are you on facebook?”, gathering my bag to myself, packing up, indicating that I was done.

His answer coincided with a sharp lifting of his arm to call for the bill.
We walked out stiffly, the tension cloud following us all the way to my car.
I thanked him politely for the breakfast and offered an Italian hug.
He accepted the hug and took a feel of my bum!
I was in two minds. Should I burst out laughing or should I scream. Neither.
The sms read “Dear Piet, you are a lovely man and I’m sure you’ll find a suitable partner soon. Thank you for the breakfast. Fundamentally I think we are too different for any lasting relationship to develop. Good Luck. M”


I laughed at my mom who follows the journey with great interest.
“Well, who can blame him, he was trying to get something that he’d normally pay a thousand rand a pop for…..all for the price of a budget breakfast!”

Rhapsody's

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 .

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 is this is my mission, my goal, to be able to say that I too have a social life.
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 say “ I’ll stand at the counter if that’s ok?”

“If you don’t drink, what are you going to do in a pub?”, says the reasonable voice in my head.

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 I don’t smoke so 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 Jo’s one word answer as if he’s told me very long and interesting story and I reply, with a very long and interesting story.

Then I sms Harry 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 sending and receiving sexy messages.

Anyway after arranging my life via sms and exhausting all facial expressions on my list that belie how empty and lonely I feel, I waft out, head held high.

At home I console myself with a packet of Marie biscuit sarmies slathered together with smooth butter, and whatever’s on SABC2.

Good Weekend? My colleagues inquire.

It’s all I have to mutter nonchalantly,

“Rhapsody’s” and of course, they’re impressed.

 As they should be.

I obviously have a social life darling.

....Single and Dating

Being on “the other side” of a long marriage or single and middle-aged is daunting and takes a bit of getting used to.
The relief and joy of freedom mixed with the fear of the unknown makes for a heady cocktail that lifts and drops the emotions at will.

You only have to look at the on-line dating sites to realize that the need for companionship and connection is a primal and essential part of being human.

There is a language one has to learn. There are signs that at first you’ll miss and code words that only the initiated understand. “Come to my place for coffee?” implies sex after supper, and then also not for everyone. It’s confusing to say the least. “I bumped into Jenny the other day”, said with a wry smile and apparently they had “a sexual encounter”.

“Do you follow the British or the American model?” Confused? Yes, so was I. The British way is to stick with one partner sexually until the relationship is done, and the American way is to make the most of any sexual encounter you’d like to while still officially “dating” the partner.

Whether or not this is official, it was a good way for him to brooch the subject.

“Do you know your status?” does not imply single or married, but positive or negative.

Words like “window period” and “protection” are loaded and can keep you up on the balmiest of nights, sweating with fear when you could be dreaming of Eros.

When a couple is asking after B&D they certainly aren’t looking for Black ‘n Decker but bondage and discipline.

Everyone with their history and reference framework trying to find a suitable match, is like trying to throw two curveballs and hoping they hit each other somewhere in mid-air.

“Lets do something Crazy?” for me may mean opening all the cars windows on the highway at 120KM/h, while for you it may mean “shooting up” in a public toilet. “Explain to me how that will work”, becomes a great key to opening up the pictures in someone else’s mind.
Never ever say to a man “are you up for it?”. Whatever you meant doesn’t apply. He will come towards you quickly, breathing heavily or he’ll run away and you’ll never coax him back.
There are so many places to research my new single status and what with “tips for women”, blind dates, on-line-dating and speed dating one would rather up in a fetal position.

Where do I go to meet people, to dance, laugh, chat, flirt, stand in a thick crowd of people, smiling with a drink in my hand ?
Would I be considered a senior? Apparently then the rules are a little different and you can say “I like you can we do coffee?”  Too direct?

I have been to my local gym sweating it out on the spinning bike making all the appropriate noises. I have done 10 perfect pikes on the ball and 20 impressive pushups in studio1 – yes, the one with the big windows!

I have done slow and saucy side-bends on a vibrating power plate until my eyes want to pop out, and that right next to the most beautifully toned and seemingly blind men!

Am I trying too hard?

You think?

Well, maybe just a little.

Arm-wrestling on the counter in a desperate attempt to hold someone’s hand is just too pitiful.

I resign myself to singledom, along with thousands of other lonely people and give it a rest. I act as if I’m happy alone but with a gnawing need for companionship in the pit of my stomach, or is that my heart?