Tarah is horny
Tarah has it on good authority that thinking too hard, hurts like hell…
Tarah is OVER men… fuck them. we don’t need men, we need plastic rabbits.
Tarah wants to speak English with a Walmer Estate accent.
Tarah is geschmalt.
Tarah is thinking perhaps she had too much of johnny tonight…
Tarah is thinking she is deep enough to know that she is shallow.
Tarah is gorging herself on woolies beetroot… yummy.
Tarah lost 75 kilograms.
Tarah is pissed off at men.
- I’m really not clever at all
- though I like people to think so
- I like it when people walk into my apartment and “ooh and ah” at all my nice things
- I maxed out my MC last year. though I only had a 5k limit on it, I maxed it out to 12k
- I’m a CL and Gumtree whore. I love the thrill of new emails in response to the nutty ads I place
- I saw my first movie at the ripe old age of 16
- I go commando. Always.
- When I read books I “page-watch”. (page-watching is similar to clock-watching)
- I shagged a coloured guy once, but I’ve never dated one. Secretly I would like to, though
- I’d love to one day experience a mind-blowing orgasm. Oh well
Christ. I finally got out of bed… I can’t stop myself from reminiscing today. About all the men I’ve met who were just so very wrong for me. There’s one in particular that I will always wonder about … I’ve got, or rather, I had a thing for internet dating and posted an ad early December 2006 for a man to take care of me. Yes, that’s correct.
He responded by calling me and we spent half an hour on the telephone. That evening, I slept over at Toby’s place, shagged him and felt pretty damn sorry for myself. Muhannad tried to call me, but I blocked his calls. He called me the following day and we arranged to meet somewhere in Long Street for a cup of coffee. The coffee turned into lunch, which turned into dinner.
I saw him the following day again. And the day after. We had a hectic couple of days together, during which he bought me a cute little ring for R11 475. He spent well over 20k on me over a two-week period.
While I certainly liked him, I got caught up in his money. Yes, we did, strangely enough, have a lot to talk about. We both liked reading, so this was great. He wrote a paper on The Epic of Gilgamesh when he was in college!
Alas, it was not be be. He was too jealous, too short (in my opinion, though I desperately wanted to act as though I don’t mind), too different – he’s a practicing Muslim, he wanted me to change how I dress, he didn’t approve of my gay BFF.
Things came to an abrupt halt when he wanted to have sex with me without a condom. I told him no! I don’t know where he’s been, he doesn’t know where I’ve been, right? He then packed my stuff, and took me to my apartment the very next day, which was 1 January 2007. It was the worst new year’s day of my entire life. I had very little money to my name, I was without a job (I had been fired from my last job just a couple of weeks before), I couldn’t face my family, I felt as though I had absolutely no friends.
Muhannad is a very lonely man. He’s richer than god herself, but he’s sad and lonely. Now, I’m sad and lonely as I sit and type this, but that’s for entirely different reasons. I’m sad because I miss Victor and I’m lonely because I’m becoming a hermit and don’t go out anymore. Muhannad, however, has many, many, many friends. Many more than I could want to be friends with. Yet he’s still lonely. They’re all much younger and can’t relate to him at all.
At least my friends are my age and are in similar circumstances so they can relate. Oy, that sounds bad, hey?
Anyway. So I wonder if I’m just reminiscing now, or if I really do miss him. And what do I miss most about him? Is it the money? Especially now, as I’m wondering how exactly I will endure January 2008? Or do I miss the silly conversations we had, the many laughs, him cooking for me?
I’m sure I just miss the money. It was lovely not having to worry about money. It was lovely to receive R1000 to spend on my hair and my nails. ha!
oh well. That’s all gone now. We no longer speak, and I wouldn’t want to speak to him anyway. I may not have morals, but I will most certainly not put my life at risk just for some bling.
I have such fond memories from singing this song back in the early nineties with my girlfriends! Now, this is the first time I see the music video. Jam Alley would probably not have played this, or would they have? Perhaps. Those were the days, my friend!
Those were also the days before we got to realise just how unreliable men truly are. Gone is our innocence. Back then, we mouthed the lyrics, not knowing what it meant. Back then, I thought it was a mommy singing the words to her baby daughter. Ha! I was so silly, so naive, so .. What does it say of me at 25? Why do I allow myself to feel this bitter?
Should we stop listening to such soppy love songs? It feels so good to listen to music like this, though. Should I instead listen to music created by angry white men? I think I’ll watch this youtube video a couple more times, and then relegate it to the back of my mind, to the same place where I keep my hopes of ever meeting a guy who is reliable, honest and sexy, all at the same time.
As I’ve been intensely horny ALL day long, I started sending Victor these really raunchy sms’s earlier today. I only succeeding in getting him hornier than what he was to start off with. And that’s bad; he’s very far away from me and could just decide that girl who’s serving his food looks pretty juicy herself, and shag her…
Anyway. The point of this story is how horny I was/still am, damn it, today. I shaved two days in a row, in anticipation of some action today. Alas, it didn’t happen. Got cancelled on at the fucking last minute. I couldn’t find my vibrator and had to … do without it.
I was thinking of calling my ex.
Or, rather, one of my exes, for some hot, late Sunday afternoon nookie. hmmm. Me wish I did it.. it could only have been .. rather intense. Poor Victor. Or, no, poor me, damn it.
Tonight I once again realised how far away I am from being the quintessential Coloured girl: I don’t cook, or not readily; I have all my front teeth and do not want to remove them; at the ripe old age of 25 I am still child-less, and plan to remain thus; I stay in a la-di-da area and have regular dinner parties where my guests consume less than a bottle of wine and I do not have a Coloured boyfriend.
I’m sorry, mommy. True, there was a stage where I would have been feeling pretty shit about all of that, but these days, I tend not to give a damn. Or, when I do, I give less than a damn. See, I have become Coloured in other ways: I swear. Loudly, too. And I use really vulgar language when I do so! Someone would be forgiven for thinking I’m from Manenberg or Bonteheuwel when they hear me swearing! Not that there’s anything wrong with people from those areas…
I realised this a couple of weeks back when Victor and I were at the local flea market. Some kid accosted me, and called me antie. Now, there’s only one person in this whole world I would forgive when they call me antie. But she’s still only two months old… so I don’t have much hope of that happening very soon. This kid who called me antie got the shock of his life (Victor also, methinks) when I shut him up by telling him not to ever call me that.
If you mess with me, you will be forced to re-think your prejudices about me. I have been known to wear properse designer labels (No Levi’s for moi, thank you oh so much) on the odd occasion, but I can also show my earthy side when provoked. So, though I may not appear it from the outside, you would do very badly in a verbal fight with this coloured girl…
A girl can never have too many suitors, so this one decided to put a post on a well-known site to find someone to have a drink with a couple of nights ago. Well, it was supposed to be me and a friend who were going to have a drink at a fancy bar. But it’s boring going there by ourselves, especially as I’ve become slightly bored of this friend’s conversation… So I decided to call in a helper or two.
The ad may have been very ambiguous in meaning, for most of the men replied with “Oh, so what type of professionals are you?” That was not really my intention, but we are indeed professional ladies, just not the exact type these guys were envisioning.
After 4876 responses, I decided on two guys who sounded slightly more mature and one of these two could possibly be best described as a playa, which is fine by me. We’ll meet in a public place, right? We’re big girls (not just age-wise) and can certainly fend for ourselves. What’s more, this oke could give us unrestricted access to all the best clubs in town…
So. Where was I? Oh right. The one who got away. Or rather, the one who was so very vague about his plans for tomorrow? He sent me an sms (instant no-no – you should call, not send sms’s!) and described his plans to consume a bottle of Diemersdal Pinotage chocolate/vanilla/coffee and wanted me to help him with it. Well, me and my friend, that is. While it’s one of the better replies I had received this entire evening (compare it to “where is da place wr u wana meet, im ****** 42 6v4 tall and a businessman”), I just couldn’t stand up the two guys I had already said yes to. That would have been decidedly rude of me!
So I let him know that I would be free tomorrow, and could he please call me instead of sending sms’s? What’s the point in playing games? He responded by saying how busy he is… Oy vey. And five minutes later, he admits that actually, he’ll only be busy tomorrow night, not tomorrow afternoon.
I’m so over playing games, especially with people I might never meet. If I’m not busy, why let someone think I am? So that I can feel better about myself or so that he/she/they/it will think “Oh, wow, this lady is such a busy bee!” Nah. That’s not my style. Though, perhaps I should adopt it more often. It seems men like women who are constantly unavailable.
nearly freaked out I freaked out a couple of days ago. Methinks we I put too much faith into MyFace. Some days ago I wrote about how I plan to write on his wall. Well, I did so and the bastard deleted the message the very next morning! How dare he! That’s just not done. I would never delete someone’s message from my wall. Well, only under certain circumstances, I would. I didn’t even say anything remotely vulgar/revealing/dirty. I just said “Hey, sexy boy. Mwah, mwah, mwah”. Now, how is that bad?
Oh fuck, I’m obsessing. I should really stop it. Concentrate on other worthy causes. Buy more books, read more books, blogs, and magazines. Shag some other guys.
I could’ve done so some nights ago… But I didn’t feel it’d be the right thing to do. Besides, all the guys there were younger than me.
So he told me it is nothing personal. He just doesn’t want everyone to know too much about him. That makes no sense whatsoever. Well, whatever. Then I’ll just send him a kinky public gift… hahahahaah. Or, perhaps not. He might just delete that as well and why would I want to waste some of my very precious MyFace gift credits on someone who deletes my wall posting?
I decided that I shall not waste my 8 remaining credits on someone who deletes my message off his wall. I sent him another message instead. Something along the lines of “…anyway. Have yourself a fab weekend. I’m gonna go to yet another partay tonight! Mwah”. Let’s see how long this one lasts. And even if he removes it, everyone will see it. Or, all of his friends, girlfriends (god knows how many he has…) and ex-lovers will see it and wonder who is this cute little girl on his wall. Hahahahaah.
So by the time he deletes it, I would have caused him a bit of trouble. That’s to say if he plans to keep me hidden away…
This is just a quick note to you, just to let you in on a couple of my secret thoughts. I hope you won’t mind too much.
I told you many times how evil I am. Please take note, I really am evil. I think only of myself, well, I mostly think only of myself. I love money, I love malls, I love certain labels. I have done things I am ashamed of and I would never want you to know of it. I do not have a criminal record, but that’s because I got lucky and because I’m a pretty girl. And I got caught for something very silly that day… not nearly as bad as the rest of the stuff …
Those days are over, but I’m afraid I might want to do those things again. And get into even bigger shit.
Though I have many acquaintances, I do not have many friends. Which means that I get lonely at times. Which could mean that I might become clingy. It is a possibility, you know? Before this turns into anything meaningful, I need to warn you, put you off if needed.
There are also many men in my life. I left out a couple in last week’s post… I would have difficulty in letting go of some of them, even if they think it’s best to give me some space. Can you understand that? I love their company… and other things, too. Perhaps I’m not yet ready for a relationship with you, my angel. What’s more, I am a material girl who used to have a couple of sugar daddies. Not all at once… Can you provide for me?
Yes, I am capable of buying my own pretty dresses, shoes, et cetera, but I would dearly love it if you could spoil me with pretty, glittery things on the odd occasion. Hell, some jewellery stores would allow you to pay something off over a couple of months.
My engagement ring would need to be at least colour G, 1ct, white gold diamond ring, though I would far prefer a colour F. I’m willing to compromise, of course. You might prefer to buy me Tanzanite instead, and I will most certainly not complain.
So, now that you know me a bit better, do you still like me?
- I’m the only one making a racket in the flat (but I don’t, and that’s great!)
- I can play R&B music when I feel like it, at the volume I want it and there’s no one who complains about it
- I don’t need to explain to anyone why I don’t want to have supper right now, or at all…
- There’s more money to spend on shoes
- My bed is all mine!
- There is a distinct difference between the floor sponge and the sink sponge…
- No more weed
- No more bad sex
- No more fights
- No more Halo 3