Have you seen the dark side?


So. I met some fab chicka. She blew me away! Wowie. I’d love to say that she is the younger version of me (she’s 23 jaartjies oud) but she’s not; she’s better than what I was at that age. Cuter, too! Funnier, smarter, more mature, well-spoken, et cetera. I think she’s the girl of my dreams…

She’s also real. A bit of a snob like myself, so I like her even more, but she’s seen the dark side. And bought herself a ticket out of it. In that respect, she reminds me of myself. We’re very similar in certain ways. We’re both evil. Fine, we’re both immoral (to an extent), we both have deliciously wicked smiles, we both have deep, dark secrets that haunt us. My deep, dark secrets are tied up at the bottom of my cupboard. I don’t want them out, though I once, a long time ago, mentioned something about it to Toby. Fuck. I hope he’s forgotten about it…

Her deep, dark secrets haunt her everyday, or whenever she looks up from that P.G Wodehouse she’s reading. We delight in recounting tales of boyfriend abuse: throwing bottles, wineglasses, cellphones at them, hitting them, cutting off their nether regions… I jest. Suffice to say, our men drove us to it. Anyone who brings a girl from Eersterivier to my flat and allow her to sleep in the bed that I paid good, hard-earned money for, deserves whatever happens to him. Not that there’s anything wrong per se wif girls from Eersterivier… Some of my favourite family members stay in Eersterivier.

So we’ve got issues, I hear you mutter. So bloody what? Don’t we all have issues? Admitting one has issues is the first step towards recovery. Though I quite like having issues. It’s what makes me interesting, not just my opinions and my exotic features.


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