Things are toooo good

I met someone. It’s been more than a month. And he thinks he’s in love with me. He wants to get a divorce and marry me. Yes, of course he’s married…

The last month has been beyond interesting. I constantly have to remind him not to spend that much money on me. But alas, he doesn’t listen. That’s why I have a new netbook, Tammy Frazer bespoke perfume, a Mulberry Silk duvet and other luxury goods. And I’m not really complaining, either; I’m loving the attention and gifts.

But I feel guilty. Often.

I manage at least 5 or six hours’ sleep at night but it’s something I do worry about.

And I am unsure whether he is someone whom I can get married to. He’s sweet and only wants the best for me. But it’s been too soon. He’s probably still trying to impress me. And as soon as we had gotten married he would be complaining to his friends that I am spending too much of his money.

We had spent the weekend along the Garden Route. It had been lovely.

I just do not want to get used to all the things he can offer me. It’s a bit frightening. So why then had I introduced him to some of my family members? Why then do I long for his kiss or his arms around me when he isn’t around? Why then do I smile involuntarily whenever I see him walking towards me? And why am willing to adjust my wardrobe just a teeny bit to please him?

I am nearly there

Late last year I wrote about my tricky financial situation. Since then I paid just a bit over R17000 towards debt. I still have a long way to go but things really are looking better. I now need to pay back the company loan that I have. That should take 3 or 4 months, depending on whether our accountant will approve the new R5000 loan that I need to fix my busted scooter.

This morning I went to the Magistrate’s Court to have the Telkom Judgment rescinded. It took all of 5 minutes to do so. Well, first I had to pay more than double the original debt in interest and other charges. Then I got permission from Telkom’s attorneys to have the judgment rescinded. And then on Thursday I got an appointment to see the judge who has the power to rescind the judgment. I’ll never get into a situation like this again. Never.

And then — the best news, ever: I managed to save R120 into a fixed savings account. I’ll do this for 12 months. This will be a test run of sorts. I may end up buying shoes with the money. But who knows, I might decide to continue saving for a rainy day.

I’ll use today’s lunch hour to go find out how to get a new copy of my Matric results. So here are the figures:

Edgars	R 2 433.00	Paid Up
Truworths	R 4 313.00	New balance: R3813
Telkom Judgment	R 3 480.00	Paid R7080 and had the judgment rescinded on 4 May 2009
Woolworths	R 4 318.00	Proscribes on 15 May 2009
Nedbank	R 4 598.00	Begin paying R280 a month for 18 months on 26 May 2009
RCS	R 5 057.00	New balance: R4557
Virgin Money Judgment	R 12 808.00	Begin paying R1000 a month for 12 months in August 2009
Vet	R 1 400.00	Proscribes 10/07/2009
Nedbank Credit Card	R 2 754.00	Paid Up
Discovery	R 303.61	Paid R303.61
Vodacom	R 7 102.00	Begin paying R500 a month for 14 months in August 2009
Sainet	R 1061.08	Paid R1061.08
Leisure Books	R 226.15	Paid R226.15
	R 49 608.38	R32 633

How to know if a guy is into himself

One of the google searches that led some unsuspecting searcher to my blog: how to know if a guy is into himself.

I don’t know whether this person saw it as a negative or as a plus. But I think it’s a good thing. You’re allowed to like yourself. So the guy whom you’re dating should also think highly of himself. If he doesn’t, who will? I’ve dated men who didn’t like themselves — Toby is one of them. Even Jozi boytjie is unsure about himself. I’d like to think it’s because they’re still young(ish).

So how can you tell whether a guy likes himself?

Well, it’s simple.

• He doesn’t feel the need to crack jokes about himself, no matter how weird, fat or poor he may be. A guy who likes himself doesn’t need to do that; he is confident that his regular jokes will impress you. He won’t take the first girl who makes herself available to him. He’ll wait a bit.
• He’ll dress nicely. No, really. He’ll take care of himself. So he won’t have dodgy teeth or cracked heels. He’ll always smell fresh.
• He doesn’t apologise for liking something that you may scoff at.

I’m still laughing, you know?

If this were 08 January 2007 I would’ve been crying. Hell, on 08 January 2006 I *was* crying. But that’s a different story and it shows how much stronger I have become.

Fine, then. I cried a little yesterday. I cried after Jozi boytjie’s abrupt ‘Goodbye’ and I cried a little after speaking to LA late last night.

And I was shaking yesterday afternoon when I discovered someone at work is being dishonest. I called her over to my desk once, twice, three times. I made her explain why X and Y are identical. Can’t say much more than that, though.  And then I asked her to come with me to the boardroom. My hands were shaking. I was a mix of emotions. This is horrible to admit but I have lost my respect for her. Well, frankly, I have never had much respect for her. She tried to justify herself and acted as though she didn’t do anything wrong. But you can’t con a con-girl. I’m a good liar so I know when someone else lies to me. Here’s looking at ya.

So try to imagine the look on my face when I got home to discover my fridge has been unplugged since, um, Sunday? And that I lost R350 worth of meat?

2008 was a decent year, I think

I love this blog. I blogged about my breakup with Toby and adjusting to being single; I blogged about meeting and falling in love/lust with Victor; I blogged about the 50% salary increase I got in May 2008. Or did I? Eeep. Perhaps I didn’t. But I did complain about getting paid peanuts…

I bitched about moving to suburbia, which didn’t feel like the real suburbia. But I somehow forgot to mention that I moved back to where my heart belongs. I took months to be able to blog about Mr Stellenbosch. I met a Jozi boytjie but it turned out He’s just not that into me.

It was a funny year for me. Nothing terrible happened. Well, except that I got some karmic justice, of course. I was single for more than 80% of it and I enjoyed it, mostly. Sure, it got lonely sometimes… but c’est la vie. And that’s why G-d invented wine. I like to think I have high standards, which is why I didn’t get involved with Mr Freelance Writer. But for some strange reason 2008 was the year that I had a thing for boys wif broad noses. It was also the year of livin’ dangerously: I finally allowed myself to buy the SATC boxset.

I moved three times in 2008. No, sorry, I moved four times. I think that was the hardest part about 2008. Constantly worrying about where I’ll live. And dealing with the ex-landlady who sued me for R2600. Ai tog.

I am still struggling to orgasm. I sometimes wonder whether I would ever be able to. Perhaps I was the only coloured female on whom FGM was practised? Or perhaps not. Perhaps I just need to see a sexologist. End of this month, I promise. It’s an investment, right?

Anyway. I hope that I’ll be able to use this outfit finally. And I don’t even think I’ll force myself to lose weight for it

There probably aren’t any good guys left

I love receiving fan mail. Don’t we all? Except I don’t receive many long, detailed emails; only a few. So his email impressed me. And I read it again. When I decided to respond to it, I saw he wants to chat to me; we are both Gmail users.

See, I’m a Bad Person™. You already know that. But I do sometimes wish to meet my Knight in Shining Armour. Just sometimes. But I know that this is ‘real life’, so I carry no expectations.

For a while I had this fantasy: a sweet, intelligent (single) guy reads this blog and somehow, falls in love with me. I think they call this a ‘pipe dream’ or ’shameful fantasy’. But it was nice. I’d curl up in bed and I’d dream dreams of this young man. He’d be charming, successful, intelligent and be nothing like Victor, Toby, Nick or Gareth. He’d be like the Jozi boytjie, actually. He’d have only good qualities. Or only one flaw.

He’d contact me through the tarah sweeney at gmail dot com address and we’d email each other constantly. We’d fall in love over email. We’d meet, and he’d be as charming IRL as over Gchat.

Something like this happened. Somehow someone found my blog, even though it wasn’t a simple ’stumble upon’; this was different. He found my blog through a different channel: I posted an ad on Gumtree and used the tarah sweeney at gmail dot com addy. That ad. hmmm. I promise I was bored when I posted the ad on Gumtree. I can’t tell you the title; you might remember it from browsing the ‘Casual Section’. Hell, what if you responded to it?

I got many replies. From married men. From singles. From men who only wanted to see what I look like. From men who wanked themselves silly over the possibility of meeting me.

The ad had nothing to do with Uri’s suggestion. I promise that, too. What he suggested I shall not say.

Someone responded. He sounded nice. And somehow, I responded to the ad he placed on the Gummy Tree, too. And I mentioned this in my email to him. He is involved in a long-term relationship, coloured, a young professional who likes the good things: whisk(ey), wine and pretty girls. I was interested, but not much: his relationship status bothered me. For a change, I didn’t want to be the other woman. So I never responded. He persisted, though. But then he gave up. Or so it seemed.

He sent me an email, claiming to love my blog. But he used a different email addy and a different identity. Of course I felt flattered. I’m a wanna-be writer so it’s only natural that I’d feel proud. We spent two or three hours chatting over Gchat and he somehow convinced me to meet him for coffee. Everything was perfect: I was wearing a snazzy outfit; I felt confident; I didn’t feel threatened. We had a great evening, and then I saw him again.

And something felt different. He was vague about how he had ’stumbled upon’ my blog. He doesn’t blog at all and this confused me. How many coloured guys read blogs? Hey, I’m just being curious, OK? I also noticed that we didn’t have much to talk about. It disappointed me. There we were at a wonderful restaurant with nothing to talk about.

So I sent him an sms. I told him I know he posted that ad on Gumtree. He obviously claimed innocence. And acted hurt that I did not believe him. And we didn’t speak for a while until he emailed me again — or did he send me an sms? — to ask whether I’d like to have a coffee with him. I felt bad about my prior outburst so I offered to buy him coffee. Which I did.

And then he told me that he did actually place that ad on Gumtree. Reader, I cried. I wasn’t a pretty sight at La Playa that day. And the damn toilets are so far away, too.

I couldn’t handle the idea that he’s involved with someone. After Uri I promised myself I won’t ever get involved with a man who is not available. I am amoral but I’d like to think I am improving slightly. Being an atheist does not give me the liberty to hurt other people. I hate being lied to. It’s bad enough that my sister Elizabeth lied to me about the iPod; I don’t also want to be lied to by someone who claims he’s interested in me. I am rather naive [this year].

I’ll admit that we have been emailing each other a bit since that day. Not recently, though. But somehow our plans always get cancelled. Perhaps it’s better like that.

Some thoughts for the new year

I will enjoy being single for as long as I can.

I will buy property. I’m working on my credit profile so I’m sure I’ll be able to buy within 3 or 4 months.

I will spend more time with my family and the few friends I have.

I will weed out the friends who aren’t real friends.

I will blog every weekday. Bare minimum.

I will lead an enriched life: travel, study, see a sexologist, read and meet people.

I will learn to like myself.

Letter to 30-year-old Tarah

Congratulations. You have made it; you are a grownup now.

What’s life like there in 2012? Fuck, it’s scary just writing to you; it gives me goosebumps. It’s scary because soon I’ll be you. But it’s cool, too: I don’t have to apologise for the previous sentence.

So. Tell me. Where are you now? Are you still writing? Are you still in South Africa or are you in Brazil right now, being seduced by a hot boy? Or a hot girl?

Wait, that sentence assumes you’re not married or in a long-term relationship and that you’re living a Samantha Jones kinda life. My apologies.

Do you remember today at all? Today isn’t one of our best, hey? We’re feeling a tad crappy but it’s all good: it’ll soon pass. Heck, I actually can’t wait to go back to work next week to kick some arse!

Anyway. Back to you. God, I’d love to meet you. You must look really pretty in 2012. I imagine you are wearing designer clothing: Lanvin, Diane Furstenburg, Valentino. Wait, why not Valentino? A girl’s got to dream, right?

I suppose I just want to know whether you are happy. Yes, money counts but it’s so much better when you have someone — anyone — to share it with. We’re too headstrong to settle for enige Jan Rap en sy maat… and that’s a good thing, too.

Have you had lunch at Banq yet? No, wait, don’t tell me. I want it to be a spontaneous thing. But lunch at El Bulli, well, I can handle knowing the truth. I’m willing to settle for mediocre service at El Bulli

Well, besides knowing whether you are happy I would also like to know about the men or man in your life. Have you had better luck with them yet? What am I doing wrong? Should I give the neighbour at number 12 a go? You know which one he is. Tall, Afrikaans, reads a lot, is a DIY kinda guy…

Or should I just get over Jozi boytjie first?

Feel free to write to me via return mail.

Lots of love,

26-year-old Tarah

How to tell when a guy isn’t into you — or himself

OK. Earlier last month I had a bizarre experience with some guy. I’m not going to bore you with details of how we met; instead I will tell you why I realised he’s just not that into me.

1. He didn’t ask me about myself. This could include my thoughts, opinions and some interesting titbits about moi.
2. I didn’t mind splitting the bill for the evening but he ordered a rather expensive bottle of wine…and had only R50 in his wallet and an ‘expired credit card’.
3. He took me to a dodgy place in Long Street when I had told him loooong beforehand I’m over that place. Waaaay over.
4. He made me feel bad for not inviting him in at the end of the evening.
5. He didn’t say “Thank you for allowing me to drink your champagne”.
6. He slept until an ungodly hour the next morning and just couldn’t leave.
7. He opened my fridge without asking me and poured himself some tomato juice.
8. He broke one of my champagne glasses — van Woolworths af, djy wiet mos? — and didn’t apologise.

So what did Tarah do? He left here just after 10:00 so I sent him an email.

Last night was a fluke and perhaps it’ll be better if we remain friends.

“Add new post,” she thought

I’m feeling much, much, much better today. I went to teh Waterfront earlier today — it’s what I do on Sundays, djy wiet mos? And I had a spin on the ‘Magic’ ride. There is a fun fair on at the Waterfront so do go. I was just worried that I’ll slip out of it. I was shaking all the time while the thing went round and round and round and round and… faster and faster and round and round a… And I have no idea what the proper name is for the ride; not even the ticket crew knew its name. *Sighs*

I’m still amazed at Jozi boytjie’s maturity. I think he’ll make some girl immensely happy. But she won’t be moi. And that’s fine, too.

We have decided to remain friends. A tough challenge cause I really, really, really like him. I’ve said this before: he’s perfect on paper.

Oh, and about the flowers that I mentioned on Thursday morning: I returned them and got a refund And I’m waiting on a hug from a certain person. To tell me that everything’s gonna be olraait and that next year will be two thousand and fine. You know who you are.