Contrary to popular belief, too much of a good thing can actually be bad for you and in some cases, kill you. Chocolate, alcohol, cigarettes, sex. No matter what form the poison takes, we seldom heed the warning to do things in moderation, which is probably why so many of us turn to the discipline of detox diets whenever we go through heavy periods of remorse. The body is a temple after all, so what better way to pay it respect than to sacrifice a week or two dedicated to flushing out those nasty toxins that build up along the highway of dirty deeds and filthy habits.
As I entered "Day 4" of the infamous cabbage soup diet, I thought long and hard about expanding heart lines and the emotional weight we gain throughout the years of surplus dating and searching for the so-called 'one'. The way I see it, the quest for love is very much like a bad carbohydrate; amazing at first bite but extremely bad for your health when devoured in abundance. Although some relationships have absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever, the prospect of 'happily ever after' is extremely appealing, especially when you're a little insecure about yourself and some asshole deliberately messes with that. Before you've had a chance to flush out the venom from one destructive relationship, you're already caught up in a vicious binge cycle of psychological and emotional abuse. Do we perhaps need to detox from love?
My gorgeous friend Leticia was down from Durban on an extended holiday which her soon to be ex husband would unknowingly pay for later. Lettie had always been one of those girls who fell in love at the first sniff of interest and as a result, went from one rotten relationship into the next without really taking stock. Tired of always feeling shit about herself, she decided to go on an official boy strike, a physical and spiritual cleanse from all the emotional travesties that had come her way in the past ten years. After the last dismal attempt to strike up a relationship, she'd decided it was high time to exorcise some emotional demons.
"Well let's see...first there was my teenage engagement which nearly gave my Lebanese mother a heart attack. I was seventeen when I met my fiancee who was quite a few years older than me. I was like any teenage girl, young and impressionable, so I fell really hard for his charm. It was only later that I realised he wanted a little wifey to cook, clean and darn his socks which of course as you know was not in my contract. After nearly seven years of that, I decided to flee to Durban where I met the man who fathered my beautiful baby boy, the only good thing to come from that marriage. We were separated before my second trimester but decided to stay married by law for the sake of Tarek."
"There were a few forgettables in-between and then there was Alex, my physical soul mate also known as the best sex of my life!! He was just one of those guys that came and went never to be seen or heard from again. Sigh. Probably double life. He did however introduce me to Ramfest which is where I met my second love...the biggest commitment-phobe on the planet. He really messed me up by constantly blowing hot and cold and making me feel as though I was not worthy of anything. He certainly didn't have an issue with late night booty calls though."
Lettie eventually came for up for air after a few more shockers which is when I truly noticed all the positive changes in her life. Not only did she look better than I had ever seen her, but she was oozing self-confidence, a colour I had never seen on her. The girl who openly admitted to needing love to validate her existence had disappeared and instead, a brave new girl had emerged. "I realised that trying to fit in by trying to find someone to complete me was just a big waste of precious time. There was a lot of good that came out of these encounters but also a lot of baggage so I decided to take a much needed time out. There's a reason they say that "love will find you" right, so until then I am going to deal with ten years of emotional excess and fall deeper in love with someone who is way too much awesome for anyone to handle. Me." If her sabbatical from dating was the reason she'd become a lotus flower, then I was in desperate need of the recipe.
We're all guilty of indulging every now and then and while love is great in it's purest form, it can also be detrimental to our health. The search for this 'perfect person', the one we're destined to share the rest of our lives with can drive us insane especially when you're forever lucking out with douche-bags that make you feel so small and insignificant. Not only are our hearts at risk, but the amount of time we waste wondering what went wrong can be seriously damaging not to mention, intoxicating.
When it comes to our mental and emotional health, do we need to purge the impurities of one relationship before jumping into the next?
Thursday 25 April 2013
Monday 22 April 2013
Cock Idols
Thanks to the genius who coined the term, "the bigger the better", most men spend their lives feeling inadequate about the junk in their trunks. The difference between mice and men begins in the boy's locker room where the juvenile tradition of measuring one's penis determines the pecking order for the rest of his adolescent, and sometimes, adult life. Size has always been a sensitive topic, one that dictates a man's self-worth and self-esteem, and while a huge dick is usually on every warm-blooded male's wish list to God, just how important is it to women?
Ten inch heels, five carat diamond rings and six figure bank accounts. Some things in life are undeniably better on the big screen, and while we're naturally drawn to the understated overstatement, I couldn't help but wonder whether the size of a man's penis was really that big a deal. Biology would have us believe not as it only takes about five inches of man sausage to do the trick (providing he has the moves to back it up), but like those crazy hairstyles of the eighties, some girls do indeed prefer em' big.
"Whoever said 'size is not important' or that 'it's how they use it that counts' clearly hasn't been knee deep in sand doing doggy-style with a micro-penis. I've had tampons bigger than this guy, and while size isn't the be-all-end-all for most girls, it definitely matters to me." Sam, who's personality was larger than life, preferred everything big, from her house in Camps Bay to the size of her endowment policies. As a high powered financial adviser, she worked with a lot of macho men and was permanently on crotch-watch. She believed that the vagina, as hospitable as it was, should only accommodate guests that would guarantee maximum satisfaction.
"Men are constantly aroused by big-breasted women and Kim Kardashian's ass, so why should we deny ourselves the same pleasures?" Sam may have been branded a greedy whore for wanting a man who was above average but at least she wasn't afraid to verbalise what so many of us are too shy to admit. "All those bitches are lying. If Sir Mix-a-lot was a woman, he'd be rapping, "I like big cock." You don't hear a girl coming back from a date saying, "oh yeah, he fucked me so hard with his average penis" do you? There's nothing more satisfying than taking a zip down trou to find a beautifully enormous package waiting to be unwrapped. It's like a Calzone."
While Sam's cocky confession may have been the unspoken truth, Charlz seemed to have another opinion on the matter. "Most of us are too afraid to voice our opinion because of the backlash it might cause with the opposite sex. Men associate their penis with masculinity, ego and power so to take that away from them would be like kicking them in the nuts repeatedly. The size issue is a BIG deal and matters more to them than it does to us. I've been satisfied with an average "thing" for a long time now. It doesn't matter to me as long as it's clean and doesn't have a hoody."
While Sam and Charlz's continued their cock fight over tea and crumpets, I went in search of a male opinion. Julian, my gorgeous thirty something year old neighbor was straight, single and apparently extremely gifted below his handyman belt. "Dick size is all about the ego and pride of a man. No man wants to be average, in life or in his pants. A big cock is a sign of his prowess and manhood, a way to measure up against doctors, lawyers and other trust fund douche bags. The guys with the big wangs don't have to be dicks about it because they're genuinely confident. It's the cocky, arrogant fucks you've got to watch out for. Turns out the biggest cocks of all are usually the ones with the tiniest dicks."
Big ones, small ones, average-sized fatties. Some girls like their happy meal supersized while others find bite-sized portions more than sufficient. It all comes down to personal preference for girls, and if Miss Goldilocks taught us anything in life, it's never to settle for anything else than just right. Unfortunately for men, just right is simply not enough. You give 'em an inch and they want a mile. The greater the Gatsby the more adequate they feel about themselves and hence, their masculinity. Just when you thought girls were the only ones with insecurities, along comes this little gem to even the score.
When it comes to penis envy, just how many men are hung up about size?
Ten inch heels, five carat diamond rings and six figure bank accounts. Some things in life are undeniably better on the big screen, and while we're naturally drawn to the understated overstatement, I couldn't help but wonder whether the size of a man's penis was really that big a deal. Biology would have us believe not as it only takes about five inches of man sausage to do the trick (providing he has the moves to back it up), but like those crazy hairstyles of the eighties, some girls do indeed prefer em' big.
"Whoever said 'size is not important' or that 'it's how they use it that counts' clearly hasn't been knee deep in sand doing doggy-style with a micro-penis. I've had tampons bigger than this guy, and while size isn't the be-all-end-all for most girls, it definitely matters to me." Sam, who's personality was larger than life, preferred everything big, from her house in Camps Bay to the size of her endowment policies. As a high powered financial adviser, she worked with a lot of macho men and was permanently on crotch-watch. She believed that the vagina, as hospitable as it was, should only accommodate guests that would guarantee maximum satisfaction.
"Men are constantly aroused by big-breasted women and Kim Kardashian's ass, so why should we deny ourselves the same pleasures?" Sam may have been branded a greedy whore for wanting a man who was above average but at least she wasn't afraid to verbalise what so many of us are too shy to admit. "All those bitches are lying. If Sir Mix-a-lot was a woman, he'd be rapping, "I like big cock." You don't hear a girl coming back from a date saying, "oh yeah, he fucked me so hard with his average penis" do you? There's nothing more satisfying than taking a zip down trou to find a beautifully enormous package waiting to be unwrapped. It's like a Calzone."
While Sam's cocky confession may have been the unspoken truth, Charlz seemed to have another opinion on the matter. "Most of us are too afraid to voice our opinion because of the backlash it might cause with the opposite sex. Men associate their penis with masculinity, ego and power so to take that away from them would be like kicking them in the nuts repeatedly. The size issue is a BIG deal and matters more to them than it does to us. I've been satisfied with an average "thing" for a long time now. It doesn't matter to me as long as it's clean and doesn't have a hoody."
While Sam and Charlz's continued their cock fight over tea and crumpets, I went in search of a male opinion. Julian, my gorgeous thirty something year old neighbor was straight, single and apparently extremely gifted below his handyman belt. "Dick size is all about the ego and pride of a man. No man wants to be average, in life or in his pants. A big cock is a sign of his prowess and manhood, a way to measure up against doctors, lawyers and other trust fund douche bags. The guys with the big wangs don't have to be dicks about it because they're genuinely confident. It's the cocky, arrogant fucks you've got to watch out for. Turns out the biggest cocks of all are usually the ones with the tiniest dicks."
Big ones, small ones, average-sized fatties. Some girls like their happy meal supersized while others find bite-sized portions more than sufficient. It all comes down to personal preference for girls, and if Miss Goldilocks taught us anything in life, it's never to settle for anything else than just right. Unfortunately for men, just right is simply not enough. You give 'em an inch and they want a mile. The greater the Gatsby the more adequate they feel about themselves and hence, their masculinity. Just when you thought girls were the only ones with insecurities, along comes this little gem to even the score.
When it comes to penis envy, just how many men are hung up about size?
Thursday 11 April 2013
Hayley's Comet
Somewhere along the kaleidoscopic galaxy of love, sex and one night stands, we find ourselves in the middle of concepts such as fate and destiny. Throughout the infinite constellation of soul mates, first loves and dating disasters, we gravitate towards each other until one day we find a fit as perfect as Orion's belt. It can take years before we find that kind of stellar connection, and while the universe tends to work at her own mysterious pace, I couldn’t help but wonder about the people in between and their significance in this celestial journey called life.
They’re forever saying that certain couples and relationships are predestined and "meant to be". The notion of two energies colliding through space and time, against all odds until they finally meet and become one is such a lovely thought; but back down on planet Earth, we are more likely to fall into a black hole than meet this so-called supernova. Meaty-whores, ass-teroids, a cluster fuck of bad relationships. A girl's gotta pay some serious dues before she hits the cosmic jackpot, and with so many complications along the way, it’s no wonder we’re questioning fate.
As I drove past the old Milky Lane along Beach Boulevard, I thought about my own dating existence and the celestial beings that have come and gone. Michael, Evan, Jay (the alcoholic) and dearest John. Once the brightest stars in my universe and now just burning balls of gas fading away into the distant memory. While most of them had successfully moved on to someone else's orbit, there are the rare few that choose to remain constant. Was this destiny at play or just another collision waiting to happen? I couldn’t help but wonder...
Once upon a time there was a marketer called Hayley and a scientist called Steven whose paths had crossed along the intergalactic highway called “findmymatch.com”. They were both searching for life on other planets and instantly formed a connection over the most random topics of conversation. Their online banter evolved into telephonic relations, and eventually, about a year after first contact, decided to officiate their friendship in the flesh.
It only took one bottle of Pongraz to break the sound barrier and even though they had not officially defined their relationship, there was definitely chemistry. What followed was a beautiful, unconventional friendship full of laughter, road trips, purple elephants and philosophical conversations about altruistic states of being. Even though the cosmos had another plan in store for them, Hayley and Steven seemed destined to be together one way or another.
One starry night, Hayley caved and told Steven that she loved him at the risk of losing their friendship. It was quite the dramatic scenario and even though Steven was light years ahead of Hayley in almost every sense, he managed to say it back. Whether he actually meant it or not was irrelevant but for the next three days, Hayley was in absolute heaven. The events that followed are still blurry, but suddenly, Hayley lost all contact with Steven.
Over the next four years, he was like a comet appearing here and there and as random as possible. From the apologetic email two years later to the more recent congratulatory message on Hayley’s successes, Steven flashed from a brilliant distance before zooming off at the speed of light. Although Hayley had everything she ever wanted and more, she welcomed these rare sightings in hopes of one day rekindling a friendship that once burned so brightly in her heart.
We don’t always know why the universe throws certain people our way but perhaps the unexplained and the unknown is what makes this life so much more interesting. While it would be wonderful to astral project past all the pain and heartache that comes with being in love, it's probably best to just leave these things in the hands of fate and destiny.
When it comes to our romantic destiny, is the perfect relationship already written in the stars?
They’re forever saying that certain couples and relationships are predestined and "meant to be". The notion of two energies colliding through space and time, against all odds until they finally meet and become one is such a lovely thought; but back down on planet Earth, we are more likely to fall into a black hole than meet this so-called supernova. Meaty-whores, ass-teroids, a cluster fuck of bad relationships. A girl's gotta pay some serious dues before she hits the cosmic jackpot, and with so many complications along the way, it’s no wonder we’re questioning fate.
As I drove past the old Milky Lane along Beach Boulevard, I thought about my own dating existence and the celestial beings that have come and gone. Michael, Evan, Jay (the alcoholic) and dearest John. Once the brightest stars in my universe and now just burning balls of gas fading away into the distant memory. While most of them had successfully moved on to someone else's orbit, there are the rare few that choose to remain constant. Was this destiny at play or just another collision waiting to happen? I couldn’t help but wonder...
Once upon a time there was a marketer called Hayley and a scientist called Steven whose paths had crossed along the intergalactic highway called “findmymatch.com”. They were both searching for life on other planets and instantly formed a connection over the most random topics of conversation. Their online banter evolved into telephonic relations, and eventually, about a year after first contact, decided to officiate their friendship in the flesh.
It only took one bottle of Pongraz to break the sound barrier and even though they had not officially defined their relationship, there was definitely chemistry. What followed was a beautiful, unconventional friendship full of laughter, road trips, purple elephants and philosophical conversations about altruistic states of being. Even though the cosmos had another plan in store for them, Hayley and Steven seemed destined to be together one way or another.
One starry night, Hayley caved and told Steven that she loved him at the risk of losing their friendship. It was quite the dramatic scenario and even though Steven was light years ahead of Hayley in almost every sense, he managed to say it back. Whether he actually meant it or not was irrelevant but for the next three days, Hayley was in absolute heaven. The events that followed are still blurry, but suddenly, Hayley lost all contact with Steven.
Over the next four years, he was like a comet appearing here and there and as random as possible. From the apologetic email two years later to the more recent congratulatory message on Hayley’s successes, Steven flashed from a brilliant distance before zooming off at the speed of light. Although Hayley had everything she ever wanted and more, she welcomed these rare sightings in hopes of one day rekindling a friendship that once burned so brightly in her heart.
We don’t always know why the universe throws certain people our way but perhaps the unexplained and the unknown is what makes this life so much more interesting. While it would be wonderful to astral project past all the pain and heartache that comes with being in love, it's probably best to just leave these things in the hands of fate and destiny.
When it comes to our romantic destiny, is the perfect relationship already written in the stars?
Thursday 4 April 2013
Girl 3.0
At some point in our lives,
we all carry the psychological burden of at least one irrational fear. Whether
it's being flattened into human naan or the unsettling
theatrics of clowns and mimes alike, there is always some unreasonable horror
that brings out our inner neurosis. Claustrophobia, failure, the fear of fear
itself. We're constantly plagued by paranoia, and while most forms of social
anxiety can be treated with happy pills and regular visits to the therapist's
office, there is nothing we can really do to ease the annual panic that comes with getting older.
When you're single, 29 and going on 30, there is a tiny window period where all mental hell breaks loose. Without warning, the sound of your biological clock (which had once previously minded its own goddamned business) decides to kick into overdrive opening a floodgate to erratic behavior and premature mid-life meltdowns. All of a sudden, that voice of logic and reason is replaced by an overwhelming shriek, taunting you with visions of a life you should have had by the time you reached 30. Marriage or at least the prospect of a serious long-term relationship? Tick! Children? Tick, tick! An Oscar nomination? Tick, tick, tick? Are we really starting to run out of time or are we just being drama queens?
As I ventured deeper into Long and Kloof Streets to find traces of my youth, a decent cocktail and a logical reason behind my existential crisis, I received a text message from one of my old sorority sisters. The lovely Ms. Alison Pritchardson was turning 30 and wanted me to join her for drinks and snacks at her favourite local wine bar - you know the one. Ali was my dearest and favourite female friend in college with whom I shared a very special connection. We bonded over the rejection of not getting into the same major and through bitterness and several Nescafe lattes, overcame what would have been a very dull and depressing three years.
While I was clearly hanging onto to days gone by, Ali seemed to embrace her thirties with open arms. She was happily involved and living in the suburbs with a brand new teaching job at one of the most prestigious drama schools. Not only was she looking her best but she could certainly still rock it with Will.i.am and Britney Bitch! "Although it was not initially what I had planned, I feel like I had closed one chapter of my life and opened another without losing the essence of who I was in my twenties. I don't think you ever change who you are. You evolve. The only thing I'm anxious about is what comes next. Letting go of the past is easy. (yeah right!) It's the fear of not knowing what the future holds that scares me the most which is perfectly rational in my opinion."
As I clung onto Ali's pearls of wisdom, I couldn't help but wonder whether the stress of turning 30 was all in my head? Was the crazy behaviour less about clinging onto youth and more about the subconscious fear of letting go of the past and what it represented? Instead of seeing my thirties as the next chapter, I was too busy seeing it as the end of an era where incomplete goals and achievements meant failure instead of growth. So what if I wasn't married or that my breakthrough career moment was yet to come? Surely, if we can't let go of the past, we'll never reach the future that lies ahead.
People are always saying how much greener the grass is on the other side, so perhaps the mini crisis is all part of the journey. We all age, and like a good red wine, perhaps the maturity is for the best. If the physical aspect of getting older is what worries us the most, we can always turn to cosmetic surgery and macrobiotic diets - or formaldehyde. As far as fear and irrational thought are concerned, ain't nobody got time for that. Pull yourself together girl and get over it because the best is yet to come.
When you're single, 29 and going on 30, there is a tiny window period where all mental hell breaks loose. Without warning, the sound of your biological clock (which had once previously minded its own goddamned business) decides to kick into overdrive opening a floodgate to erratic behavior and premature mid-life meltdowns. All of a sudden, that voice of logic and reason is replaced by an overwhelming shriek, taunting you with visions of a life you should have had by the time you reached 30. Marriage or at least the prospect of a serious long-term relationship? Tick! Children? Tick, tick! An Oscar nomination? Tick, tick, tick? Are we really starting to run out of time or are we just being drama queens?
According to the friends that have already crossed over into their thirties, life couldn't be
better. Apparently, all those unnecessary pressures and complex insecurities that
plague us in our twenties disappear, and like the phoenix, rise out of the ashes to form a newer, more confident and self-accepting you. Was version 3.0 actually something to look forward to instead of dreading or was "finally getting to know
yourself" just a cop out to avoid the daunting reality of thinning hair,
gravity and lack of accomplishment?
As I ventured deeper into Long and Kloof Streets to find traces of my youth, a decent cocktail and a logical reason behind my existential crisis, I received a text message from one of my old sorority sisters. The lovely Ms. Alison Pritchardson was turning 30 and wanted me to join her for drinks and snacks at her favourite local wine bar - you know the one. Ali was my dearest and favourite female friend in college with whom I shared a very special connection. We bonded over the rejection of not getting into the same major and through bitterness and several Nescafe lattes, overcame what would have been a very dull and depressing three years.
While I was clearly hanging onto to days gone by, Ali seemed to embrace her thirties with open arms. She was happily involved and living in the suburbs with a brand new teaching job at one of the most prestigious drama schools. Not only was she looking her best but she could certainly still rock it with Will.i.am and Britney Bitch! "Although it was not initially what I had planned, I feel like I had closed one chapter of my life and opened another without losing the essence of who I was in my twenties. I don't think you ever change who you are. You evolve. The only thing I'm anxious about is what comes next. Letting go of the past is easy. (yeah right!) It's the fear of not knowing what the future holds that scares me the most which is perfectly rational in my opinion."
As I clung onto Ali's pearls of wisdom, I couldn't help but wonder whether the stress of turning 30 was all in my head? Was the crazy behaviour less about clinging onto youth and more about the subconscious fear of letting go of the past and what it represented? Instead of seeing my thirties as the next chapter, I was too busy seeing it as the end of an era where incomplete goals and achievements meant failure instead of growth. So what if I wasn't married or that my breakthrough career moment was yet to come? Surely, if we can't let go of the past, we'll never reach the future that lies ahead.
People are always saying how much greener the grass is on the other side, so perhaps the mini crisis is all part of the journey. We all age, and like a good red wine, perhaps the maturity is for the best. If the physical aspect of getting older is what worries us the most, we can always turn to cosmetic surgery and macrobiotic diets - or formaldehyde. As far as fear and irrational thought are concerned, ain't nobody got time for that. Pull yourself together girl and get over it because the best is yet to come.
When it comes to growing up, do we need to let go of who we are in order to become the person we were meant to be?
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