tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45750083671149258522024-03-28T02:14:08.484-07:00Sex in the C.T.Sex, love, life and relationships in the mother of most awesome cities, Cape TownManni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-13093328906829189552015-06-10T21:29:00.002-07:002015-06-10T21:29:46.022-07:00I couldn't help but wonder...<div class="copy-paste-block">
"When one door closes, another opens; but
we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do
not see the one which has opened for us." - Alexander Graham Bell </div>
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Who knew that the engineer behind the first working telephone could have such a profound take on life? As if his contribution to communication and elocution wasn't enough, he was also a prophet speaking volumes about human nature and our inability to let go of things we hold so dear, especially when their ending is so long overdue. Too often we cling to the familiar and define ourselves by our daily routines, afraid to unmask ourselves and see through our limitations, even if it means immersing ourselves in the deepest, darkest oceans that run deep with our souls.<br />
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For Sex in the C.T., it's time to say goodbye. What started off as just another dude in a dress somehow turned into something more. It found a place and a voice of its own in the hearts and lives (and subsequently Facebook feeds) of many. Like all modern day musings, my intention was to communicate and marry indifference, making the world realize that we are actually one and the same in certain aspects of our lives. We are unified through similar experiences, heartaches, pleasures, pains and situations especially when it comes to making sense of love, life and of course, sex. Do I have the answers? Not a fuck which is why I'll probably keep questioning in some way or another...</div>
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My first literary brain child has been inspired by a number of wonderful people in my life. Some of you know exactly who you are (and that as I promised, will go down with the ship) while others had no idea how much they truly inspired me. I have evoked feelings of unintentional and sometimes intentional pain using words to hurt for which I am truly sorry. But I have also evoked a thought process through my ramblings, providing an alternative view for those standing at one of life's many cross roads. Whether through personal introspection and experience or living vicariously through the hearts and souls of my fellow sister friends and brothers, I hope at the very least to have made some kind of a difference. <br />
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It is with great sadness but great relief that I say goodbye to my baby blog. Because of you, I am wiser and more mindful of the power words carry and hope to use that in more creative ways. A new journey and adventure awaits in the form of self reflection, The Manni Diaries. It's time to look back at the past and through it, find my future. As I find myself in a more honest surrounding, I can no longer rely on the stories and antics of others no matter how hilarious, sad or just plain salacious they may be. <br />
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To all the loyal fans across facebook and twitter that tuned in every Thursday for their SITC fix. Thank you. To Women24 for your constant support especially Carmen, Lili, Jana, Meagan and Tammy. Thank you. To my many muses across the globe. This blog would have been nothing but a blank space if it weren't for you and the wonderful stories you have shared with me. Respect. Keep being the individuals you are as you embrace new challenges and life choices that may bring us closer or further apart. Thank you. To Aiden, my ultimate and editor. Thank you. I know some of the things I wrote weren't always the easiest to read. And last but certainly not least, to Cape Town. There really is no place quite like the mother city and in my heart, you will always be home.<br />
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So as I hang up my tutu and pink strappy top for one last time, I couldn't help but wonder...as one chapter closes, what lies behind the new door that stands in front of me? <br />
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Watch this space....#TheManniDiaries</div>
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Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-73052736904708444052015-04-29T22:15:00.000-07:002015-04-29T22:15:27.664-07:00The Turkey BasterAny cook worth her apron strings will tell you that in order to prepare a
feast, you need to have all the right ingredients first. Whether you’re whipping up a
tasty treat for two or simply simmering down after a long day at the office, the art of culinary genius requires a blend of skill, precision, technique and of course, perfect timing. Jamie
Oliver and Youtube clips can only take us so far, but in order to achieve success, we need to have a dash of patience and one helluva of a plan. Whether you're a stranger to the home-cooked phenomenon or perhaps a self-proclaimed master chef, anyone who's ever flipped an egg
before will tell you that the best results come from sticking to the
recipe.<br />
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When it comes to serving a dish of happily ever after, the recipe seems so simple. Add one well-mannered, mature, gorgeous and mentally stable boy to one insatiable, funny, smart and driven girl until a relationship is formed. Once the relationship has settled, bind for about two to three years, kneading gently until a marriage is formed. Do not stir too hard. Let the marriage sizzle for about one to two years until it reaches optimum maturation. Whisk in a cup of hot, passionate sex and gradually combine with two to three kids. Mix in a lifetime of financial security, one medium to large sized house with a white picket fence and baste in happiness until death do you part. This recipe also works with same sex marriages. Simply substitute Step 5 with an adoption or surrogate agent. <br />
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But what happens when you get stuck along the way? When no matter how hard or how many times you try to stick to the fool-proof, non-stick plan, the end result always seems to flop? Timing may be everything when it comes to cooking but when it comes to life, there are only a certain amount of viable eggs that a girl can hold onto before the right man comes along. Should she deviate from traditional methods of conventional cooking and literally take matters into our own hands? Well if the Baker's man can...<br />
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If there was one thing that Dinny wanted most out of life, it was a child of her own. She had been in the dating game for nearly 36 years and decided that her Prince Channing had either died or met someone else along the way. This was not a void that she needed to fill but a calling, a right she felt entitled to. She wanted to take the next step in her chapter and she sure as hell wasn't going to let one missing ingredient take that away from her. <br />
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"I've been manting for about a year and a half now. Yeah, it's a diet free from all the dip-shit commitment phobes and men who can't seem to grow the hell up. I'm running out of time, Manni and the last thing I want is to be mistaken for my kids grandparent at his or her graduation ceremony. "We saved a seat for your grandma right up front." I want to walk my child down the aisle. Not hover or cruise down in a Segway. A woman such as myself doesn't need a man to make her dreams come true. I make my dreams come true. While a man is certainly nice to have in the inventory check list, the whole package is no longer essential." <br />
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Sacrebleu! Is it true? Have men become redundant? An obsolete ingredient when it comes to starting a family of your own? Is this the measure that women have been reduced to? <br />
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And it seems as though AI procedures are no longer reserved for the reproductively challenged. It seems to have extended to the masses as a supply and demand item, quite apt for a society that thrives on instant gratification. Dinny went through thousands of potential donors until she finally found one that sparked her ovaries. As it turns out, the whole process was like online shopping. A catalogue of revolving donors all waiting to make Dinny's dreams come true. Simply select, hit defrost and apply judiciously with a turkey baster. Wait 15 - 45 minutes and voila, pregnant. Easy bake babies and instant parenthood. <br />
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"Of course it's a heavy decision. I'm catholic for Christ's sake. My family thinks I'm a lesbian and our priest thinks I'm possessed. I am pretty sure that I am going to get criticism about my child not having a stable father figure. I really don't care what the judges think anymore. I want a baby even if that means being a mother and father at the same time. Who knows. Maybe I'll meet Mr. Wonderful later on and add him to the mix but for now I'm happy with just me and bean. You see, some koeks crumble when they don't have it all by a certain age and so, they either give up or settle for mediocrity. Consider it like self-raising flour. Too fresh to flop." <br />
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When it comes to placing a bun in the oven, and traditional methods no longer seem to do the trick, isn't it time we got a little creative? After all, aren't the true pioneer's those who add a
little twist to the original recipe? Of course the results aren't always going to be successful but with a little patience, a killer medical aid and the right frame of mind, artificial insemination seems to be the only alternative for single ladies tired of waiting for the right man to come along... <br />
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When it comes to sticking to the original plan, even when the alternative provides a far more savory and satisfactory result, I couldn't help but wonder, are we all cooked? <br />
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<![endif]-->Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-30265503093955722742015-03-25T21:57:00.000-07:002015-03-25T21:57:12.088-07:00The Mom CardThey say that there is no greater joy in life than bringing a child into this world. Some have even gone far enough to call it a gift, a miraculous life-altering event that every woman should experience at least once in her life, and one that cannot be understood or truly appreciated until you have a mini-me of your own. <br />
<br />
Quite frankly, I can think of a million other ways of deriving joy and pleasure than nurturing a spawn of my own. The thought of sacrificing my spare time for play dates and swim meets doesn't sit well with someone who enjoys sleeping past 10am on a Saturday morning (at least for now anyway). The potty training, the screeching sound of twenty sugar hyped kids at Jimmy Jungle, sleepless nights from staying up with a snotty nosed, pink-eyed rugrat. That biological clock can tick as loudly as it wants to. I ain't budging. Call me shallow or hateful, but I quite like the smell of fabric softener on my cashmere sweater instead of the stench of lactose flavored spit up.<br />
<br />
"Nothing is going to change. I promise you!" Famous last words used by any pregnant friend or friend with child in order to make themselves feel less guilty about the inevitable abandonment and demise of your friendship. Have you tried talking to someone with kids these days? It's either all about them, all about their child (which you really struggle to identify with) or like talking to someone with an attention deficit problem. Sure some kids are cute and have a certain charm of their own but any friend of friend with
kids will tell you that the joy about being around these noisy, smelly critters is that you get to give them back at the end of the day. <br />
<br />
The sudden baby boom of 2015 got me thinking about relationships, particularly friendships that are unable to stand the test of time because of self-important, opinionated assholes that parenthood has the potential of turning some people into. It's easy to play the "you don't have kids so you couldn't understand" card, but at the end of the day, friendship is a two-way street. It survives on just as much mutual effort and compromise as any romantic relationship does. Yes, your life has become one big sacrifice after another, a choice <i>you </i>made, but does that necessarily make my life and its subsequent choices any less meaningful or important than yours? Are my accomplishments no longer important or recognized? <br /><br />With great responsibility comes an even greater sense of power, not to mention, entitlement. Enter the Mom Card... <br />
<br />Working in an environment that's pro-family made me realize just
how much a parent, especially a working mother, can get away with. While
on the one hand, it might be considered a mild form of discrimination
towards co-workers without kids, it's also an ingenious method
of manipulation. Flexi-time, weekends at
the company beach house, compassionate and paid-for maternity leave. <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">What asshole is seriously going to say no to a sick kid? And what mother will honestly stand for it? While the mom card is highly effective in the work place and often used as collateral to get away with murder, just how acceptable is it when it comes to your social life?</span><br /><br />Holly, Kendra and Bridget had been inseparable besties since their first year in pre-primary. They survived boys, puberty, heartbreaks, tampons, family travesties and all the other post-teen drama of the late to early 90's. Thick as thieves they were as they endured life one difficulty after the next confident that nothing and no one, not even a baby, could break these bonds of sisterhood. <br /><br />
Of the three, Holly was the least likely to have a baby but true to her spontaneous nature, she brought a little bundle of boy almost immediately after graduating from varsity. Being the true friends that they were, Bridget and Holly were supportive of this life choice and did everything they could to adjust to this stage in her life. They made regular visits and assisted with the baby shower, got elaborate gifts and made a pact that motherhood would never change the dynamic of their friendship. <br /><br />"I'm not sure whether it was those frigid bitches from her family planning classes or those self-important housewives in Bishopscourt, but Holly had become a completely different person. It was like she had a lobotomy." According to Kendra, Holly had morphed into a super-paranoid, earth mom who refused to leave her child out of mind and out of sight. He was literally attached to her hip and sometimes, her tit for that matter. Whether kid appropriate or not, little Junior had become a regular addition to our circle of friends. <br /><br />Every attempt at taking her away for some much needed "we" and "me" time got vetoed by some excuse or the other. "We tried to stage an intervention but that only aggravated the situation further. She got crazy defensive and thought we were attacking her. We have loads of other friends with kids who refuse to let motherhood affect their professional drive let alone define who they are as individuals. They also make the effort to support our life choices as well. Holly missed a number of important events in the past such as Kendra's 30th and Bridget's celebratory promotion weekend, each time throwing the mom card in our faces."<br />
<br />
Are friends without kids fucked for life by the arrival of tiny pooping terrors? Just how much of an adjustment should friends make to cater for someone else's life choices when the actions and feelings aren't even reciprocated? Are babies and kids the death of friendship? <br /><br />"I don't think people with kids realise just how much we bend over in order to get some time with our friend. They lose themselves in this new role, completely negating who they are in the process. We worry what this is doing to her mental and physical health, not to mention her relationship with her partner. There's even a rumour going round that she's thinking of having more? Bye-bye Holly."<br />
<br />"You're going to make a great parent someday." Translation. Start having kids now otherwise this friendship as you know it is officially over. Hats off to anyone having a child these days. Seriously, I applaud you
for having such an altruistic take on life. Kudos to you, but just because some of us haven't jumped on the bandwagon of tots and terrors doesn't mean that you need to ice us out with the "we don't understand" card. We understand perfectly well. Perhaps <i>you're</i> the one who doesn't understand what it takes to be the supporting friend. You are after all the one getting all the support. Maybe one day we'll catch up but until then, we are quite happy with our noiseless, selfish and meaningless existence. <br />
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When it comes to life long friendships, what came first? The bestie or the kid? <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-10985420833228147512015-03-18T14:51:00.001-07:002015-03-18T14:51:20.572-07:00Trev in the C.T...They say that death and taxes are the only two things in this world that are guaranteed to us in this lifetime. It doesn't matter how safe you play the game or how dangerously you live on the edge, we are born knowing that someday, you and I are going to eventually die. It's a terrifying notion to accept, one made only worse by the fact that we never quite know when our time is up. Whether you believe it to be part of God's greater plan or whether you simply believe in fate, there's no way of escaping the inevitable hinges of deaths door. But just because we are born with this unwanted promise doesn't make it any easier when we are faced with the loss of a loved one, especially when it happens so suddenly.<br /><br />Every now and then, our city suffers a loss so great that it calls for mass mourning. Whether it's a structure that once stood tall and proud or a person that touched the lives of so many with his sincerity and spirit, the thought of something or someone being permanently gone is a paralyzing one. It makes you think about life and how important it is to be kind to yourself every day. To appreciate this gift and live every second with passion and vigor. What kind of footprint do we want to leave behind and how do we want to be remembered when we go?<br /><br />As I logged onto the social news bulletin known as facebook, I was shocked to discover that the world had lost one of the most beautiful souls I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Floods of "R.I.P." messages began pouring onto my feed, tributes and condolences to a man that I once fell head over heels in love with. I was consumed with disbelief and denial. It felt like only yesterday that we had been enjoying a glass of red (as everyone knows, his signature drink) with this precious being, catching up on the years that separated us and having a smoke and a laugh at the local pub down the road. It seemed so surreal, so sad and so sudden.<br />
<br />
I was only 19 years old when I first met Trev at a complex in Sandown which I aptly dubbed Melrose Place. I can't even remember how we met but knowing Trev, it must have been through some amazing night of dancing and drinking red wine. Although I was partly obsessed with his room mate at the time, a man whose heart had already belonged to another, it was Trev who constantly made me smile. I remember his affinity for anything ABBA, and the first time he introduced me to the real queens of pop like Cher and Madonna (vintage only). He was essentially my late 90's and opened his heart to me with as much gusto as the next bottle of wine or pack of cigarettes.<br />
<br />
I'll never forget the night I fell in love with him. Let's face it. It's hard not to. We had all gone out to the Bronx one Friday night and he had worn an all white outfit consisting of a white jacket and white trousers that he thought was the best thing since sliced bread. Fashion is fashion. Style is style, and Trev certainly had style. It was one of those nights where one of my many attempts of getting his room mate to fall in love with me had failed dismally, and so I took comfort in Trev's fun loving (and fun living) world. <br /><br />We danced to Cher's "Believe" and drank copious amounts of red wine and Hunter's Dry. We both had little side satchels in the day, the ultimate accessory to surviving the clubs of the late 90's and early noughties. I remember how he would always have just a slight tinge of rouge around his lips and teeth when he'd had one too many. But he couldn't give two fucks. Even when some callous queen knocked over his drink sending it ricocheting across his angelic ensemble, Trev still remained cool, calm and collected. As we stood in a pool of Cabernet Savignon, all we could do was laugh.<br />
<br />
I remember the perfect cure to the next day's hangover would be to watch back to back episodes of Patsy and Eddie's outlandish adventures in AbFab. I knew then and there that I'd found a friend of quality and not quantity. As the years went by and our encounters became less and less, seeing him was always like taking a holiday for the soul. His warm, wicked smile and amazing sense of humour was always welcomed. He was eternally optimistic about everything and probably the most consistent human being I had ever had the privilege to meet.<br />
<br />
We all fear the unknown and the point of no return to some extent, whether it's the finality and permanence that comes with death or the fear of leaving this earth with a unexceptional impression. We all want to leave a part of us behind, a legacy that's memorable and a life that was lived with love. Well my dear friend Trev who left this earth far too quickly too soon was a shining example of what legends are made of. It shows by the number of people whose lives and hearts he touched, and who are all so deeply saddened by this loss. His memory lives on with every bottle of red I open, with every AdFab rerun I'm bound to watch, but most of all, through every ABBA song I have yet to dance to. Thank you for the music friend. You will be missed. <br /><br />When it comes to life and living it to the fullest, why do the good ones always have to go first? <br />
<br />
<i>This blog is dedicated to and in loving memory of one of the very first men I ever loved. My condolences to you and your family during this difficult and heartbreaking time. Trevor, may you find peace in the heavens above dancing to ABBA and being absolutely fabulous. They sure are the lucky ones now. </i>Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-85957975806015951042015-03-11T14:07:00.003-07:002015-03-11T14:07:59.152-07:00Shame on meSomeone wise once told me that in order to succeed in life, we need to embrace our failures and see them as stepping stones towards a greater understanding of our true character. The mistakes we make along the way and the way we pick ourselves up defines us as human beings. It's all about trial and error. The way we learn is essentially the way we are going to live, and the reality in life is that some people are better students than others. While some people are just naturally gifted at getting things right the first time around, others require a more cautious, steadier approach. Step by step, fall by fall until we finally master the challenge at hand. <br />
<br />
But then you get those who never learn, the ones who find themselves stuck in a cycle of their own circumstance. Poor unfortunate souls who believe that life is one big revolving door, spinning round and round in circles with no break on the other side. Instead of learning from their mistakes and taking responsibility in a healthy, mature manner, they bang head to wall over and over again until finally concussing themselves into a coma of their own wallowing pity and self-despair. We've all been there at some point, and while most of us manage to pull ourselves up and out, there are those who fail to acknowledge the consequences of their own shitty choices and situations. <br />
<br />
Being thirty something and single for the first time in five years got me thinking about failed relationships and the things we do to avoid the inevitable feelings of pain, loss and failure. There's the name and shame game in which we blame our former lover for everything that's gone wrong in our lives including the wonderful relationship that you once shared. Let's face it...someone's always got to be
the bad guy no matter how amicable the relationship ends. While that kind of behaviour may be tolerable when you're sweet and twenty, it sure as hell ain't cute and nothing short of fucked up when you're supposed to be a mature adult dealing with your own personal issues. <br />
<br />
Another personal favorite is avoidance. The classic art of jumping from one relationship to the next thinking that it'll miraculously heal the wounds of your broken heart without taking the time to reflect on what just happened. The ones who sleep better at night convincing themselves that they're in love again when in actual fact they're petrified of facing the reality of loss. Is it possible that we avoid reflection because of the horrifying truths and imagery that might stare back at us? Nobody really wants to admit defeat or take responsibility for failure. Everybody loves a winner, but are we really winning if we fail to acknowledge the fact that the problem could actually be you? <br />
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There's nothing like a little time alone to reflect on the ghosts of relationships passed. Big, Steven, Jay and now Aiden. Each ex uniquely different from the next physically, mentally and emotionally. Each one evoked a different kind of love and subsequently, a different kind of pain when they eventually ended. The only common thread amongst these three men (besides a dick between their legs) was a failed relationship with me and the set of standards and expectations they could never achieve. Had I set each of these relationships up for failure without even knowing it? Had my incessant need to control and mold things into my own delusional reality of relationships ruined the joy and spontaneity of being in love? Was it really me all along? <br />
<br />
Looking back, I played the blame game exceptionally well. It was after all the human thing to do. It was easier to blame Big because of his womanizing ways and commitment phobia, or Steven
because he just disappeared off the face of the planet, came back and then disappeared all over again. I really dodged a bullet with Jay, the compulsive liar with a drinking problem who wanted me to relocate to Rustenburg. Had these men scarred me so badly that the only way I felt I could heal was to jump into the next best thing? Emotionally damaged men who needed the power of my love to heal instead of actually healing myself? Would I continue to follow the same patterns and make the same mistakes now that I'd had this daunting yet refreshing epiphany? Or would I finally see it as a lesson learned? <br />
<br />If you smoke 20 cigarettes a day, your lungs are going to turn black. If you eat a big mac meal for lunch everyday, you're going to get morbidly obese. If you keep pushing someone you supposedly love into being something that suits your ideals and not theirs, you're going to lose them forever. Instead of accepting the fact that we are all human beings bound to make mistakes along the way, we will never truly progress and succeed in love. <br />
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When it comes to understanding our own flaws and weaknesses, I couldn't help but wonder, when will we ever learn?Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-38375112732802360992015-03-04T21:01:00.002-08:002015-03-04T21:01:46.873-08:00Daddy IssuesOnce upon a time in a prehistoric mindset, before gender equality existed and sisters were doing it for themselves, a man was referred to as 'hunter'. Strong, powerful, virile man-beasts whose sole purpose was to provide, breed and protect the supposedly weaker and lesser sex. It was a victorious time for men, a time where the size of his loin cloth was measured against his primal prowess and the ability to make fire. He was without a doubt the King of the cave, the ultimate object of desire, a god amongst the gatherers, a Cro magnon cutie whose brutality commanded the attention of their female counterpart. How times have changed...<br />
<br />
Flash forward to the present where modern-day men are no longer required to act like apes in order to get a female to notice them. Those who managed to hop on board the evolution express will soon realise that a modern day gal is more likely to choose her mate based on intelligence, EQ and the ability to make her feel loved and wanted. Raw brawn and muscle, although extremely easy on the eyes, are no longer the same ideals we hold as our prehistoric predecessors once had, especially when it comes to procreation and starting a family. <br /><br />It's no secret that bringing a child into the world can take a serious toll on one's relationship. Something inside a woman changes not only physically, but emotionally and psychologically. In this Oedipal twist of events, a man can suddenly become obsolete, no matter how supportive or caring he may be during and after the gestation period. It's almost as if she becomes the hunter, ready to protect and strike at any threat that comes in between her and her child. The world suddenly revolves around this tiny little bean growing inside your belly leaving little to no time for the man that helped you create this special gift, and while women certainly do carry the bigger share of the burden, I couldn't help but wonder...where does it leave the man?<br /><br />It's a very rare occasion that you hear a man's honest perspective on fatherhood and the challenges he faces both personally and collectively. Not only is his life about to change forever, particularly from a time and financial point of view, but also from a priority perspective. His needs no longer take precedence, and while a woman finds this much easier to accept for some biological reason unknown to man, the pressure to provide all types of support for the next eighteen years can easily send a man into an early mid-life crisis.<br /><br />Whilst having my usual double skinny latte at the local Vida, I locked eyes with a tall handsome stranger staring at me from across the room. He had a boyish smile that lit up his muscular visage and he could not have been older than 37. He'd noticed me glancing over at him for quite some time until he finally swaggered on up towards me. He was confident in his approach and introduced himself as Doc Martin.<br />
<br />We developed a friendship over the next few weeks in which I would vent to him about my tragic relationship woes in exchange for an inside look at the life of a married man struggling to deal with the pressures of being a dad and the effects it had on his relationship. <br /><br />"It's no wonder so many men in my situation cheat on their
spouses. Their ego needs the validation. They become so subordinate and forgotten to this new love in
her life, so secondary and unimportant. I know this sounds selfish but
men also need to hear how attractive and important they are from time to time. Women
expect it constantly and we tell them what they want to hear even when they're 10 kilos overweight and bloated from pregnancy. We embellish because
it makes them feel special and loved. It's such a double standard, one
that can seriously damage the intimacy in your sex life not to mention ruin an already fragile ego." <br /><br />Who'da thunk? Do men secretly feel insecure and threatened by the relationship
between a mother and child? Was Doc Martin simply acting like a little boy
bitch looking for tea and sympathy to entertain his pity-party for one or was
there something seriously unspoken about the neglect men feel in this type of situation? Were daddy's issues the real deal or were they just an excuse to justify the behaviour that comes with your typical mid-life
crisis? Has the need for a more emotionally in tune man threatened the traditional traits of masculinity or are some men just as sensitive as
women? <br /><br />"If you ever want to put your relationship to the test, have a kid. They zap every, single, little bit of energy out of you. There's no time for anything else other than the routine you have in place, especially when you both work for a living. Don't get me wrong, I love the little fucker but I sometimes wish I could turn back the clock and just go back to a time where I did not have to feel guilty for wanting some quality me time. Your life becomes consumed by this unstoppable force and all your needs and goals get put on the back burn because you just don't have the time for anything else."<br /><br />Not making enough time for yourself as well as your partner is a common relationship mistake that most of us make, and a sure fire way to end even the strongest of unions. We are all individuals who have needs and in order to make a partnership work, we need to respect, acknowledge and support those needs, especially when you decide to add one to the equation. Regardless of gender or sex, both man and woman will be challenged in ways they never thought possible. It's finding the strength to work together during these trying times that will keep the fire that you both started burning. <br /><br />When it comes to defending the caveman, is it absolutely necessary to put daddy in the corner? Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-71430632216672210932015-02-25T20:06:00.001-08:002015-02-25T20:06:09.150-08:00Surprise SexAs human beings, we are prone to the confines of familiarity. Routine. Schedule. Institution. It helps us make sense of the world we live in, and while some of us go through life living in the moment and thriving on spontaneity, the rest of us take comfort in solid structure. Knowing exactly what to do and what to expect when a well-thought out plan is made, stuck to and properly executed is the closest thing to perfection we're ever going to achieve. With such specific goals to attain in something as short as a lifetime, there really isn't much time for the unexpected curve ball, especially when ones goal in life is to be as normal and consistent as possible... <br />
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When you enter a marriage for the first time, all you can think about is love and being set for life. At last; a life of stability and comfort. No more dates, no more "getting-to-know-you" and no more awkward first times. You've found your penguin. Yes, when you're a newly wed, the last thing on your mind is the possibility of divorce but just like shit, sometimes it just happens. After spending a lifetime getting to know the ins and outs of another individual, accepting their flaws and their faults and loving them exactly the way they are...SURPRISE! Irreconcilable differences. The marriage along with all the other creature comforts in a relationship suddenly crumbles and you find yourself right back at square one. No wonder they call it bitter.<br />
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As if the process of separating from your supposed happy-ever-after wasn't painful enough, we soon find ourselves being pressured into getting back into the saddle. We begin to worry about things such as dating and dating admin, getting to know someone from scratch, trusting someone enough to allow them into your naked space. Suddenly dying alone in a bachelor flat full of stray cats and microwave dinners for one doesn't seem so bad. There really are far worse things in life. <br />
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While post-divorce and rebound flings are always exciting, bright and new, it also means having to adjust one's routine in order to accommodate their newly single lifestyle. It means making the time to put yourself out there in a reality where the majority of decent men are already taken or on the prowl for veal...not aged, mature sirloin. The competition is stiffer than a frat boy's penis, and while online dating may assist in terms of convenience, it still means having to put in the hard yards to make yourself appealing. This entails going to gym, eating right and doing whatever it takes to look less like the emotional train wreck your previous relationship left you in. <br />
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Most people require a fair amount of time to get over their ex but when you're in your mid-thirties, divorced and horny as hell, that "half-the-amount-of-time-you-were-together-before-you-can-start-dating" bullshit simply doesn't fly. "I need to get laid before this thing between my legs falls off!" There's nothing like a little nookie with a perfect stranger to get one out of their routine and comfort zone no matter how daunting it may be at first. Just ask Laura, my 33 year-old divorced friend who has been flirting up a storm for the past year with any hot blooded, semi-decent guy she could get her hands on.<br />
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"Maybe it's the fact that Jon and I hadn't been intimate for a long time before our marriage ended or maybe it's the fact that I'm constantly on heat, but most of the post-divorce sex I've had really wasn't as difficult or awkward as it's made out to be. Of course crying and running out of a room the minute another guy lays his hands on you is something to be expected, and hopefully never repeated, but once you get over the insecurities that your previous relationship left you with, and the reality of being with someone else other than your husband sinks in, the sex can be very stimulating."<br />
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Was post-divorce sex like being re-virginized? Touched for the very first time by someone who wasn't your spouse? Was Laura suddenly born again? And what about the psychological implications of having unfamiliar sex? Should we see it as validation and a way of feeling good about ourselves, or is it the necessary release required to bring closure to the previous relationship? <br />
<br />
"Retraining oneself at being single again wasn't easy. For starters, I found myself shaving my legs more frequently, but apart from the physical and mental efforts, I found myself enjoying the freedom of not giving a fuck. All that meticulous planning around having this perfect relationship or this perfect life no longer seemed relevant. The pressure lifts and finally, you find yourself enjoying life again. The first couple of dates were weird as fuck, especially the ones where you run out of things to say before the first round arrives. What's worse is when you slip into conversation about the demise of your marriage making you look like a sad, angry, erratic nightmare. Funnily enough, these were usually the dates that ended in surprise sex. Forget rejection. Vulnerability is the ultimate aphrodisiac!"<br />
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Whether you're looking for that next meaningful relationship to fill the void or a ride into rebound valley, first dates post long-term relationship are never really smooth sailing. The manner in which we begin again varies from one person to the next, and while some people may live in hope of reconciliation, others are simply doing what comes naturally in this specific circumstance...moving on. If change is as good as a holiday, why not enjoy the vacation while it lasts? <br />
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When it comes to post-marital sex, how do we liberate ourselves without feeling guilty? Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-84780321030794138552015-02-18T21:04:00.002-08:002015-02-18T21:08:26.229-08:00Too Little Too LateIf you're addicted to series the way I am, and you probably are, you'll soon discover that there’s nothing worse than that fateful day when your favorite TV sitcom, soapie or drama has been given the boot. Will & Grace, Happy Endings, Beverley Hills 90210 (the first one). After giving us season upon season of non-stop entertainment and escapism, a network can suddenly turn around and pull the plug, leaving us stunned, depressed and ready to rant about it across their social media page. It’s devastating, cruel and
sometimes completely unwarranted especially when you consider all the unoriginal dribble that
gets renewed and picked up for five, six and sometimes seven seasons, and while <i>Glee </i>may have taken a nose-dive after the
original cast members graduated at the end of Season 3, it has since redeemed itself by delivering some of the funniest,
wittiest, bitchiest and heartfelt one-liner's in the history of television.<br />
<br />
I am not ashamed to say it...I am and always have been a total Gleek, and the return of the sixth and final season has really struck a chord in my heart. Everything from Becky Jackson's insidious insults to the cheerleaders and football jocks, from the carefully selected repertoire of pop-culture classics to the return of Sue Sylvester and her multi-colored tracksuits. The magic of High School Musical's darker sister on steroids was making a major comeback as it entered its Swan song days. Why on earth could they not have gotten this right a season ago when the ratings were low and the show was struggling to keep its head above the water? What took the creators so long to recapture those glorious and precious moments that made this TV show such a hit in the first place? Were they tired or had the show gone as far as it could? <br />
<br />
As I cackled and hosed myself laughing at one of the more recent episodes, I found myself thinking about relationships and their uncanny relation to TV shows. Just like any good TV plot line, a relationship starts with a romantic interest. Throw in a bit of laughter, compatibility, sex, a host of supporting roles and just when you least expect it, a flash mob with perfectly timed choreography. Nothing is as good as the first few seasons, but what happens when the show begins to lose its sizzle? What happens when the twists and story-lines no longer seem to gel, and the show seems inconsistent? Is it time for some fresh and innovative material or is it time to put the show to bed? <br />
<br />
After five seasons of unadulterated drama and nail-biting cliffhangers, I decided to cancel my existing contract with Aiden. The network was not happy, but at the end of the day, I had to do what was right for me and essentially him.<br />
<br />
The production that had become our relationship was no longer viable in its current format. Of course the network tried all it could to salvage the show...focus groups, new surroundings, the reintroduction of Doctor Moriarty. They were willing to do whatever it took to improve the ratings, but somehow, it simply wasn't enough. It was clear that our relationship had taken a slow and steady decline for the worse, despite all the efforts made to revitalize the brand, leaving us with one of two choices: we could either cancel abruptly or end the relationship on a high note... <br />
<br />
"What happens after the initial shock, pain and anger subsides is something beautiful and unexpected. You start listening to one another. Communicating. The break up sex is incredible. You find humour again and gradually begin to enjoy each others company, despite the harsh circumstance that brought you here in the first place. True, there's a greater possibility of things ending on bad terms, but when you have characters with as much history as Aiden and I, ending the relationship with as much integrity, dignity and respect seemed like the right thing to do."<br />
<br />
The last few episodes of a series can be particularly emotional, especially when certain things that are said and done happen to bring up old feelings that you thought had long since gone. The physical attraction and the emotional connection reignited over that final candle lit dinner scene, one hot night of passionate sex...is it all just another gimmick to please the crowd or is this actually for real? Could there still be a chance of saving the show or is it all simply too little too late? <br />
<br />
When the future status of a relationship is pending, and the uncertainty of not knowing what happens next looms over you like the plague, the best thing to do is try to be kind to one another. We all handle break ups differently, some with a vengeance and others with a strong sense of amicability. At the end of the day, it's not about giving your audience what they want, it's about doing what's best for you. Who knows...perhaps a spin off series of the original might find itself crossing over from time to time but until that decision is made, the power to control the end is entirely up to you. <br />
<br />
When it comes to the cancellation of our favorite relationship,
I couldn’t help but wonder, why is the final season always the best? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-79379195631700338462015-02-11T13:32:00.002-08:002015-02-11T13:32:23.326-08:00Down with Love (A V-Day Special)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<![endif]--><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love is a many
splendoured thing, love, lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love…</i>Sigh!<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>Just like the ever-hopeless romantic love-fool, it all starts with a little song in our
hearts and a sudden spring in our step. That elevated sense of euphoria that beats any schedule 7 high that comes whenever we
lock eyes with that special someone who takes our breath away. It literally knocks you
off your feet and suddenly, you're flying high and the world seems
like such a perfect place. Yes, the power of love has a way of transcending its magic into our souls, spreading like cancer, and just like any terminal illness, the only cure for it is to go with the motions and wait it out.<br />
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Every year on the fourteenth day of the second month, we are reminded of this crazy little thing called love as we embark on one of the most commercially viable celebrations known to man; Valentines Day. The official Hallmark day for love glorified by anyone lucky enough to have finally found someone, a day to celebrate their love through simple romantic gestures such as a rose, a box of chocolates or a romantic candlelit dinner. What feels like a torturous, wicked game for singletons everywhere is actually just an extension of the eternal flame that burns between a man and a woman. True love sees past the pink smoke and careless whispers, making every day V-Day through simple acts of kindness and appreciation for that special one in a million. It's supposed to bring out the best in you...<br />
<br />
But if love means never having to say you're sorry, what about couples who constantly find themselves apologising for bringing each other down? What happens when emotions become more than words and words of love turn into weapons of pain, anger and resentment? When you've been with someone long enough, it's perfectly normal to have the occasional spat between lovers. It's to be expected; but what happens when the one that you want suddenly becomes the target of your own misery? Is that the way love goes or is it time to end that supposed endless love? <br /><br />"Down with Love" seems to be the mantra of 2015 with not one, not two, but three long-term relationships coming to a sudden end. As I found myself checking into the heartbreak hotel along with Bryan and Laura, I couldn't help but wonder...what could have possibly happened to bring about such a total eclipse of the heart? <br />
<br />"When I first met Peter I wasn't just bleeding love. I was haemorrhaging! I was crazy in love. I welcomed it with open arms and just knew that he was the one I was going to spend the rest of my life with." Laura, 31 had met Peter in high school and had been partners in crime ever since. After nearly ten years of marriage, she decided to ask for a divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. After hopelessly being devoted to one man for all her life, she had noticed that they were no longer compatible and stopped wanting the same things for their marriage.<br /><br />"We got to a point where we both felt so much guilt about the things we said and did to each other. That's a heavy burden to carry, let alone acknowledge. Knowing that you're the reason for constantly bringing the worst out of someone and making them question whether or not they'd ever live up to your exceedingly high expectations is a pretty kak one. It's torture. Maybe we stayed too long out of comfort or maybe we just need a break from one another to figure our own shit out. I know deep in my heart that we belong together but at this point in our lives, we're just playing on broken strings."<br /><br />And then there was Bryan. To know him was to love him. Six years into his engagement, he and his fiancee decided to call the whole thing off. " I suppose that's just the way love goes. One day you're falling and loving them truly, madly, deeply and the next thing you know, you're on a battlefield, trying not to kill each other. I always thought that love would keep us together, but sometimes it's not enough to heal the damages we cause unto each other. But the heart is resilient. I believe that it will go on..."<br /><br />
Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs while others simply
need a break from it all to figure out whether those unchained melodies are really for them.
Whatever vision of love you think you might have, sometimes it just isn’t
enough to justify a marriage or romantic relationship that finds itself in critical
condition. What might have been the greatest love of all the one day could suddenly turn into a highway to hell, bringing about the absolute worst in us. Is love just a losing game or does it just hurt sometimes instead? Surely, if things are truly meant to be, isn’t
letting of someone you love worth the risk of getting them back in the end? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it comes to the tragic demise of a bad romance, I couldn't help but wonder...what’s love
got to do with it? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-92029702302039158642015-02-04T13:30:00.000-08:002015-02-04T13:30:22.918-08:00Cheat DayAt some point in every girl's life, we're bound to come across one of
nature's most difficult challenges; the dreaded D-word a.k.a...the
Diet. Whether your goal is simply to lose those unforeseen festive
pounds or whether it's part of a whole new healthier lifestyle regimen,
dieting is about as necessary as waxing your fanny. And it certainly
doesn't get any easier the older you get, what with all those delicious
delicacies so readily available at the swipe of a loyalty card.
Chuckles, Krispy Kremes, a super-size McFeast Delxue meal at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1093855930" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ">2am</span></span>
after a heavy cocktail binge. It takes a lot of willpower to muster up
the strength, discipline and motivation to avoid those sinfully
delicious, chocolate-covered carbs and sugars.<br />
<br />
While some of us go to extreme lengths such as cleansing our systems
full of lemon-cayenne-pepper concoctions or starving ourselves to the
point of keeling over, most of us choose the saner and safer option of
daily exercise and a well-balanced nutritious meal plan.<br />
<br />Salads,
veggies, protein and water. Repeat six days a week with an intensive
cardio and functional training routine. These are the things that a good
diet doth make, and while the proof is certainly not in the pudding
that we begrudgingly deprive ourselves of, at least we have one day in
that hellish week to look forward to. My friends, I am talking about the
cheat day - that wonderfully glorious day of the week in which meal
replacements and dietary supplements are replaced with pretty much
whatever the hell we want. Pasta, pizza, speckled eggs. That
well-deserved splurge and purge after weeks of sticking to lean cuisine,
power smoothies and beastly Banting rituals. It's literally the one day
of the week that we can have our cake, and eat it.<br />
<br />
Never has a concept such as "Cheat Day" tasted so sweet, and even though
we should do our best to keep things in moderation, sometimes our
cravings are so intense that we tend to go overboard. One day can turn
into two and before you know it, your entire meal plan expands as
quickly as your waistline. All that hard work and commitment for
nothing. While some of us manage to go through our routine without even
thinking about it, others tend to over-indulge which can often lead into
dietary consequences.<br />
<br />
The whole concept of dieting got me thinking about couples and the
discipline it requires to maintain a healthy relationship. While a cheat
day once a week is absolutely necessary for our sanity when it comes to
food, how acceptable is it in a relationship? What happens when we get
bored and sick to death of the same mundane dietary routines? Do we give
into our cravings or do we remind ourselves about the health benefits
that come with sticking to a stable relationship? While most of us are
disciplined enough to soldier through, there are others who simply can't
resist the sweet temptation of infidelity...<br />
<br />
Samantha was down from London and as always, she was looking her best.
Maybe she was born with it or maybe it was her diet. No-one thought in a
million years that she could do it considering her notoriously
ferocious appetite for men once-upon-a-time, but Sam had achieved the
impossible feat of maintaining a healthy-ish eight-year relationship
with a man who was as bland as tofu. For eight long years, she lived off
a staple diet of commitment, communication and compromise without a
single craving for the sweet taste of man...or did she?<br />
<br />
A bottle of Pinot Grigio and several dick pics later, Sam began to spill
the beans of her several indiscretions over the past three years.
Without anyone knowing what she was up to, she had maintained a secret
diet of man-meat that included a Viking, an Italian, a German, the
gingerbread man, the married guy with a kid and of course, her personal
favourite, Mr. dark chocolate. "It's a slippery slope, one that I would
never recommend to anyone as loyal as you. It finds a way of eating at
you but at the same time, it's a helluva of thrill and highly
addictive."<br />
<br />
She began to tell me about the first time she had had an affair with the
married man. Two strangers sitting at a bar casually conversing over
the very best bottle of MCC, neither one of their spouses in sight. Both
bored with their draining daily routines and lack of spice in their
respective relationships. Chemistry happened. There was an instant
connection and attraction between the two of them and it wasn't long
before Sam was blowing him in the bathroom stall of this very local,
very upmarket Pub in London Town.<br />
<br />
"I know what you're thinking. Why don't I just leave Paul and put him
out of his misery? Well, because I love him and he gets all of me but
when it comes to our sex life, he just doesn't know how to turn me on
anymore. He's so vanilla. Everything is so safe, so missionary. Did you
know I have 65 tiles on my roof. 65?! I tried explaining my desires to
him and told him that I needed him to be more adventurous, more
experimental but he just didn't feel comfortable. One day I just said
"to hell with it" and started going through men like a thousand
flavours. Now my diet is full of variety which of course includes a shit
load of really effective sexercise routines."<br />
<br />
Is that why people cheat? Because they're bored, or is there something
so horribly lacking in their sexual chemistry that no matter how many
times you communicate, never seems to fulfill one's sexual hunger? Is a
little slip up every now and then necessary to keep us going despite the
possible pain and fall out or is it something completely unsavoury? Was
Sam just a greedy little skank incapable of staying faithful to her
relationship diet or was she simply trying to give her body something
that it so desperately craved?<br />
<br />
When moral fibre begins to lack in any relationship, how do we get back
on track? Do we continue the vicious cycle of cheating knowing that it
would break the fast of a healthy and well-balanced relationship, or do
we continue indulging until the excess guilt starts weighing us down?
Should we exorcise these impure thoughts before they become physical
actions or do we keep feeding the beast until it the evidence eventually
shows?<br />
<br />
When it comes to committing the ultimate crime of relationship carbocide, at what point should we stop pigging out?Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-85366675364067346122015-01-28T13:27:00.000-08:002015-01-28T21:31:56.146-08:00New TerrainIf the weather in the mother CT miraculously happens to be windless and anything above 25 degrees, you can bet your bottom Zim dollah that the majority of Capetonians will trawl along to one of our many gloriously notorious sunny beaches. The Cliftons. Sandy Bay. Muizenberg. It's one of the most common past times for individuals of all shapes and sizes. Families. Friends. The Gays. Whether you're cruising, tanning or simply just splashing about in the unknown depths of the salty ocean, this sub-torrential paradise is one of the most popular havens for all sorts of fun in the sun. <br />
<br />
For the minority of us, present company included, the beach is an offensive place. Not only is it frightening, noisy and somewhat disturbing (what with the latest male swimwear editions), but it's also far more dangerous than we let on. Heat stroke, stampedes, the occasional case of aquatic asphyxiation. I just don't see the appeal. Whether it has to do with my two near death experiences in the open waters, not being able to drink legally and at will, or whether it's the unwanted sand that always finds a way of creeping deeper and deeper into sink holes that no grain should ever travel, the beach will be always be a hostile and unsettling environment to me. <br />
<br />
My fear of factor fifty and competing against perfectly sculpted twenty-something year old bodies got me thinking about unfamiliar terrain and the difficulties we face when the decisions we make leave us stranded somewhere amidst the unknown. Naturally the safest bet would be to remove ourselves from these uncomfortable situations, sticking to what we know best, but when the heart can't take any more disappointment and when you've given something your all and it still doesn't work out, isn't it time to take the plunge?<br />
<br />
While everyone else in my inner circle was either getting married or popping babies, another couple had decided to call their five year tenure a long and painful day. It came as a shock to everyone around them, like that time Christina Aguilera beat Britney Spears at the best newcomer Grammy category. So unexpected and so painfully unfair. Joanne and Bryan, or collectively, Broannie, had made headlines with their sudden decision to call off their engagement and subsequently, their seemingly untainted relationship.<br />
<br />
"It's a horrible thing to consider but when you're both filled with a greater sense of relief instead of pain and anger, then you know you're ultimately making the right decision." If only more unhappy couples could be this brave and understanding. Too many times we choose to stay in a place that our heart no longer wants to be in, denying ourselves the chance to be truly happy out of fear of hurting someone else. Despite the anguish that goes along with the permanency of breaking up with someone you'll always love and cherish, to be able to finally admit that things just aren't working out takes courage worthy of even the bravest soldier. Such a fearful and terrifying notion it must be to shake up one's world of creature comforts and familiarity.<br />
<br />
"There's only so much one can take. So much one can communicate. So much one can expect before realising that if you were truly meant to be with that one person, you wouldn't have to change them in the first place. There's only so many times that one can hear the words 'I'm sorry' before it loses any kind of merit. It's a unique type of torture that we inflict upon ourselves. Waiting for things to get better when all the while you're only wasting time. Time spent drowning in negative emotions. Time spent breaking each other down to the point of being maliciously cruel. Time spent worrying about whether or not you're going to make it. That's the harsh reality of breaking up a long-term relationship." <br />
<br />
Such a sad state of affairs. I can only imagine the complexity of emotions that Joanne and Bryan must have been going through to finally get to this point. Was there really no hope or shred of light that could save their relationship? Had they finally reached the tether and point of no return?<br />
<br />
"The period of adjustment is probably the worst. There's definitely a sense of loss that comes with this untimely decision but sometimes you just have to rip the band aid off and let it bleed until it eventually heals by itself. The divvying up of friends and responsibilities. Getting used to that someone not being your shadow anymore. Starting over again. It's daunting but also liberating. Who knows what time will bring. Maybe our paths will meet again and we'll be cool like that Gwen Stefani song. Maybe we'll remain great friends. Maybe we'll realise that this was all a terrible bump in the road and maybe, just maybe, we'll end up saving each other from a life of misery and resentment. The long term results of such difficult decisions is really like your typical Cape Town weather; extreme but always uncertain."<br />
<br />
While a light breeze is always welcomed in the heat of summer, a blustering wind is not, especially when it brings about such sudden and unexpected change. There are no rules or niceties when it comes to breaking up with someone you love and care for, which makes the new ground even more difficult to tread upon. We hope for the best and prepare for the worst, knowing that somewhere in distance and time, things might just go back to the way they once were. And if they don't, well, there's always the beach. <br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">When you find yourself waking up to unfamiliar territory, I couldn't help but wonder, how do we survive the harsh conditions of breaking someone's heart? </span>Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-29000443747533408142015-01-21T14:09:00.001-08:002015-01-21T21:43:09.832-08:00Les-be-honest: Part 2Gays. You know them as the fun-loving friends of Dorothy. The fabulous glitter-wielding, feather-wearing forms of comic relief whose complimentary tones of genuine candour could bring laughter to even the darkest of days. Whether they adhere to the typical stereotypes of campy, hip-swishing effeminate queens; muscle-bound, beer-guzzling jocks who unbelievably know what tries and centuries are or even the tattooed and shaven K.D Lang-loving lesbians; the gays will always find a way of brightening up a gal's day. Not only have they become more and more socially accepted in today's metro-modern society, but they have always been good for a girl's self-esteem. Whether it's the sympathetic shoulder to cry on or even the latest fashion advice, why would anyone want to pray the gay away? <br />
<br />
But the rainbow, like most things in life, has two sides to the spectrum and sometimes you come across a pack of he-devils and she-wolves that give this peaceful tribe a rotten reputation. If you're living in a city as queer as Cape Town, you're bound to come across at least one of them, the select few of sociopathic sirens whose sole mission in life is to convert and traumatise heterosexual beings into a permanent state of sexual confusion. Ladies and gentlemen; I give you...The Flipping Gays.<br />
<br />
It's no wonder why right-wing religious bible-bashers believe them to be soldiers of the antichrist sent to destroy the supposed natural order of the world. The Flipping Gays are devious in their approach and know no boundaries when it comes to sexual pleasure. Why deny it? You know you want to. As pleasing as the act may be, there is still a level of disrespect when it comes to the seduction of someone who is comfortable with their own sexuality. Of course it could've been that one time at band camp, but when it's forced and calculated with malicious intent, it's time to bring out the sexorcist. <br />
<br />
Despite their existence, I strongly believe that at some point in everyone's life, even the straightest of straight has at the very least thought about it. That heavily repressed curiosity to have a sexual encounter with someone of the same sex. It's so taboo. So forbidden yet so necessary. It's an itch that the aforementioned bloodhounds would be more than happy to scratch, and while they may aid in bringing these tempting thoughts into action, doesn't it all come down to the choice we make at that particular moment? Could the very thought of it derail everything you found comforting about your sexual preference or could it actually liberate a secret suppression that's been tightly hidden behind one's closet door?<br />
<br />
I sought guidance from professionals in this game and while they were known for embellishing the tales of their sexual conquests, you simply won't believe it unless you've actually witnessed it for yourself. For years I would watch them in awe, hunting in clubs and bars for unsuspecting victims, secretly wishing that I too could break that moral code and turn someone into something they weren't if only for the night. Was it their hyper-sense of confidence that made them seem so utterly irresistible or was it their penetrating persistence that permeated through all sexual barriers, no matter how hetero one thinks they are? <br />
<br />
Kitty McKitty was a lesbian friend of mine who wasn't in any way what you would call a "conventional lesbian". She epitomised the male fantasy of lesbionics and came in the form of an exotic, petite, voluptuous brunette with honey-kissed skin to boot. She was charming, witty, direct in her approach and had the confidence of a thousand gods. Her sniper-like skills were legendary when it came to turning the ordinary girl's fantasy into a hard core reality. When she had a fresh target in sight, it was almost a guaranteed hit.<br />
<br />
"I have a taste for the exotic you see. When you've been eating prime steak for all your life, you develop the occasional craving for veal." Yes. Some people actually do talk like that I'm afraid and what Kitty was saying was nothing short of the truth. I had witnessed her smooth moves for many years and always found it entertaining they way she managed to get it right. Whether it was some freshman debutant trying to make her college boyfriend horny or a yummy mummy cougar fresh out of a divorce, Kitty always gave her conquests a night to remember. <br />
<br />
As I sank into another one of Kitty's latest shenanigans, I couldn't help but wonder about the women she had bedded. Was she really the culprit praying on unsuspecting victims and their respective vulnerabilities or do some women simply throw themselves willingly at the chance to experience this once in a lifetime sexperience? <br />
<br />
"This last cougar's curiosity literally killed her cat. I had been chatting her up for about a week before I finally got a dinner invitation back to her mansion in Houghton. After some fine wining and dining, she wanted me to come up and see her bedroom. I told her that I was comfortable sleeping in the spare room but I could see that she wanted a bit more than friendly companionship. She took me upstairs and clothes began flying. I removed my boots and threw them vigorously to the ground. It was at this moment that I heard a thump. I thought nothing of it and continued to give her the dessert that she desired."<br />
<br />
"She had fallen asleep in my arms after a night of intense pleasure, another conquest for my journal. At around 3am I got up to empty the alcohol we had consumed over dinner. I noticed my boot resting on something furry, a stuffed animal perhaps, but upon closer inspection, I noticed that it had actually been Mr. Whiskers, her 17-year old cat that had somehow been K.O'd in the crossfire of hot lady-loving passion. I panicked so I quickly moved the body into the room next door hoping that Lydia would wake up and believe it had died of natural causes. The only thing that died was her hard on. Bye-bye Kitty. Hello remorse. I'm not sure whether it was the guilt of last night's scissor action or the fact that she suspected foul play, but she kicked my ass out on the street without a ride and without half of my clothes." Is that what you call hitting two pussies with one stone? <br />
<br />
We all have deep-seated sexual desires that most of us are too afraid to ever act upon. We've been conditioned to believe that anything slightly askew from missionary, hetero sex is shameful and forbidden. It's this taboo that makes it so appealing, so when the opportunity arises to act out our filthy fantasies in the dark, we're going to take it, secretly hoping that it will never reveal itself in the light of day. While the snake may have lured Eve into the garden of Eden to taste the forbidden fruit, at the end of the day, wasn't it Eve who made the decision to take a bite? <br />
<br />
When it comes to the deviant nature of homo-erotic fantasies, les-be-honest, who's really hunting who? Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-19924232039859621182015-01-14T13:26:00.000-08:002015-01-14T13:30:15.517-08:00Page 6If there is one thing that no girl can live without, it's her daily scoop of salacious gossip. Whether it's Hollywood's latest morsel on Kim K and Miley Cyrus's senseless yet profitable shenanigans, or something more personal and closer to home, we're all guilty of indulging in the juicy whisperings of somebody else's scandal.<br />
<br />
For some us, it's purely innocent; another way of passing the time. Mindless banter designed to make conversation with our peers and colleagues all the more interesting and sometimes, tolerable. But for the few big baby bitches who run the relay of rumours as if their life depended on it, it's a completely different language. We call them the instigators of crap whose sole purpose in life is to make themselves feel better by undermining somebody else's misery and shortcomings. A smidgen of chatter under one's breath is certainly not a crime, but when the outcome starts to cause deliberate pain and humiliation, one has to ask: where do we draw the line? <br />
<br />
If you find yourself working a typical nine-to-five job, ten-to-one you'll probably find yourself positioned in some kind of open-plan office structure, or as I like to call it, the death of productivity. And just like any beehive, you're bound to have a queen or two that sits on her ass all day doing nothing but bark orders and laying eggs. They usually come with a swarm of busybodies waiting to serve her every need, as if she were God herself. Slowly but surely, the culture begins to spread, working its way down from one worker bee to the next, and no matter how much you try to avoid it, you're bound to entertain the latest buzz in some way or another. Is it only a matter of time before you become the victim to her repetitive sting or does the need to rule with hate simply come from some sad form of insecurity? <br />
<br />
When Charlotte started her new job as a sales rep for one of the biggest pharmaceutical conglomerates in the country, she had no idea what kind of a hunting ground she was about to tread on. Not only was she the CEO's niece, a disadvantage that clearly caused rumours of nepotism, but she was also young, pretty and smart. The ideal candidate for the firm's clan of clacking cows that had nothing better to do than gab about anybody and everybody to anybody that would give them the time of day.<br />
<br />
Most people just went along with it for fear of losing their jobs. They were after all senior management and to challenge them meant that you were clearly insubordinate. Day in and day out, Charlotte had to endure their menacing mumblings to the point where it actually began to affect her work. The swell of negativity spread far and wide and Charlotte noticed the impact it had on her peers, who would either engage and join the ranks of queen bee status or simply cower in a heap of insignificance. The latter would often find themselves playing victim to this heinous hierarchy and were often the subjects of their callous conversations, no matter how fabricated and far-fetched the rumours seemed to be. Charlotte couldn't stand for it any longer and began to feel the urge to punch someone repeatedly in the throat.<br />
<br />
Instead of going Jerry Springer on her ass, Charlotte politely adopted the assertive approach and took the Queen of Bullshit aside for a private one-on-one, woman to woman. She confronted her about the horrible things she had been saying, warning her that if she did not adjust her conduct, she would have to lodge a formal complaint. "What I really wanted to say was, 'Congratulations on another joyful day of gossip, hypocrisy and judging people who are different than you'". While Charlotte may have borrowed the saying from one of those viral e-cards, her feelings about women who talk shit about each other were fiercely strong. <br />
<br />
Judge Judy did not take the confrontation particularly well and stormed out of the boardroom in a huff. The next few days felt like high school where Charlotte had been constantly pressurised to meet her targets better and faster than humanly possible. They completely ignored her, snickered behind her back and even started a rumour about Charlotte sleeping with one of the international distributors at the annual end-of-year function. Regardless of whether the rumour had been true or not, what right did this bitch have to stick her nose where it clearly wasn't welcome. Just how insecure can one person be? Was she teased in high school and now making up for all that childhood ridicule or was she just a stone cold natural bitch?<br />
<br />
"She's clearly in need of a hug and validation. How people like that get to the top and stay there is beyond me". Just as Charlotte was about to give up, an anonymous colleague decided to fight fire with fire. The CEO had received an email in the form of a voice note containing a conversation between five nameless women about how things would run much smoother if they were in charge. It continued to display gross misconduct that contained traces of racism, homophobia and downright mutiny. Because of her value and relationships with the clients at that company, the boss man decided to let her off with a warning. A skid mark on her seemingly perfect reputation. Charlotte & Co: 1. Gossip Girl: 0. <br />
<br />
When you run your mouth off like a motor on diesel, it's bound to land you in the fire. While some of us do our best not to engage in office politics and self-inflicted drama, sometimes it simply isn't possible. While gossip may form an integral part of the way in which we socialise with one another, we also need to learn the difference between saying something for shits and giggles, and demeaning someone's character. As women, we owe it to ourselves to conquer the gaggle of geese that make our work life so unbearable. While investing in a solid pair of headphones may help from time to time, it simply isn't enough to put an end to senseless and hateful chit chat. <br />
<br />
When it comes to trash-talk in the professional environment, I couldn't help but wonder, can women live on gossip alone?<br />
<br />Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-17083189955556963462015-01-07T15:02:00.002-08:002015-01-07T15:02:40.167-08:00Fri(end)?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The most
difficult type of relationship to maintain throughout one’s life is not
necessarily the one you share with your significant other but the one you share with quality life-long friends. Let's be honest, what really came first? The husband or the
friend, and just like any romantic endeavour, friendships require a maintenance plan if they are ever to survive the harsh consequences of life-changing events such as marriage, children and international relocation. A pig-tailed pinkie promise is nowhere near as binding as a bond agreement or birth certificate, and sometimes, the path you thought you were destined to travel together suddenly takes a turn for the worst. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">There's nothing like the holiday season to catch up with what Charlotte would call your "lifies". A collection of fabulous friends that have been there for you through thick and thin and will continue to pull through no matter how much life may try to tear you apart. Just like the sweet nuptials we undertake at matrimony, they're the ones who'll most likely stick around for better or worse, through sickness and in health, till death do you part. It's a beautiful rarity to have just one of these precious connections let alone a solid handful, especially in this day and age of hustle and bustle where we can easily forget to make the time and effort for those dear to us. So when a series of events takes place that could possibly derail this lifelong union, isn't it natural for us to freak out at the slightest bit of compromise? <br /><br />So much change in such a short period of time. The world as I knew it had suddenly changed only three years ago when one of my longest and dearest friends told me that she was expecting her first child. It wasn't hard to convince the masses that the sudden spurt of tears trickling down my cheeks were tears of joy and not tears of mourning. Was this the last time I would see of my care-free, spontaneous friend as I knew her? Would she change beyond recognition? Although I had only seen her a handful of times that previous year, our friendship was always solid and based on quality, not quantity. She was the ray of sunshine that always offered the most brutal honesty with a balance of positive reinforcement. Was I about to lose her forever to a world of wet wipes and baby-proofing, a world that I had absolutely no understanding or desire to be part of (for now at least)? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Exactly one year later to the day, Gem had floated in on cloud nine and announced that her boyfriend of two years had popped the question. "It's going to be an Autumn wedding in 2015! We're so excited!" Again, tears began to fill my eyes as I felt the only words that one can say in such an instance escape my mouth..."Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!". Lies! In the back of my mind I thought a big bad wolf was about to steal my precious red away from me forever. She was my person, my Red, my Meredith. My dark and twisty relationship based on the commonality of being deviant Catholics. No one could understand the bonds of guilt and repression the way she did and it was this essence that kept us so closely knit. "Nothing's going to change! I promise." #sadface </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">A few days later, my raven-haired soul sister from another mister had said "Yes" to her perfect other. While the man in question was definitely a grower, the light he had brought back into her life was priceless. It wasn't long before those fucking tears come pouring down again like clockwork. I realised that this would probably happen at every life-altering event that I found myself part of and let's face it, this was just the beginning. It's not that I wasn't genuinely happy for them, because I was, but the irrational fear of losing my precious ones to a life of domestic complacency was something I hadn't given much thought to. I felt them dropping like flies and the only thought going through my head at the time was Freddy Mercury's toe-tapping-finger pointing hook..."dun! dun! dun! Another one bites the dust!" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Every single one of my thirty-young life partners were getting married or starting families or at the very least thinking about it. Why hadn't I? Was I defective in this department? Had I missed a step in the natural chain of evolution or was I maybe just jumping to the extreme that everyone changes for the worst once they settle down? Did it conflict with what I wanted out of life? Just when I thought I had reached a state of balance, I found myself caught between the present and the past, not knowing which way to turn. Was I subconsciously yearning for that type of stability and commitment myself in hopes of rejoining the rat-race of pre-nups and procreation or was I starting to doubt the comfort of remaining constant?<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">A recent rendezvous with three ghosts of Christmas past had offered a much needed break from all the showers and ceremonials that had recently taken place in my life. It had been nearly ten years since the original vipers of the Sea Point snake-pit had reunited underneath a full moon and apart from some obvious physical changes, they were all still very much the same. Vivaciously living the dream of commitment-free lives, they certainly put the "art" in party. As I had become somewhat of a prude amongst a bunch of rambunctious raconteurs, I asked the waitress to seat us as far away as possible from regular civilians as I am sure the details of our sordid shenanigans (which came out in full force) would most certainly offend even the most open-minded patron. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">On the one hand it had been refreshing to see that nothing much had changed. No matter how ludicrous and salacious (and sometimes completely embellished and fabricated) their wild stories were, I would always see past the smoke and mirrors into the depths of their contorted souls. While it would have been counter- productive to regress into my past ways, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I found solace in an unlikely source and was beginning to feel slightly less anxious about the fact that I was neither married nor parented. By offering a completely alternative insight and providing a contrast to the life choices that so many of my current friends were beginning to adopt, I felt more at ease with myself knowing that I was somewhere, consciously swaying in the middle. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Friendships, like relationships, are very much a
two-way street and requires effort from both sides. The things that we believe in are essentially the things worth keeping, and sometimes this means losing a precious one along the way. </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">While
personal evolution is different and necessary for each and every one
us, it can sometimes leave us strained and disconnected.</span> </span></span></span>Unfortunately, there's
nothing you can do about it other than
adapt and gain a greater sense of understanding for each others respective life
choices. We're not always going to be on the same page
and we won't always want the same things out of life, but if you remember the things that made you soul mates in the beginning, you might just have a shot in the dark. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">When it comes to besties and lifies, how do we stay close without compromising too much of our current selves?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-84401419351158473132014-07-27T22:45:00.000-07:002014-07-27T23:02:17.288-07:00Say Yes to the Dress...Planning something as epic as your wedding day can be just
as joyous as the day you decided to say yes. Who knew that a proposal as sweet as
any would essentially become the first official step along this rollercoaster
ride known as wedding planning?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
While most girls have had their special day figured out since
the day they could walk in their mother’s heels, modern day career girls have
been too busy living their lives to give a proverbial hoot about their big day.
The whole concept is quite an overwhelming mindset to consider. There’s the
catering and the samples, the colour schemes and bridesmaids dresses. The venue
and possible accommodation options, invitations and save the dates, the wedding
cake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vows and the Vicar, the guest
list and the gifts. And yes, oh yes, the perfect dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With so much matrimonial mayhem to coordinate
before the big event, is it any wonder why so many brides-to-be turn into vile
versions of Bridezilla? What’s a bride to do? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br />
<br />
They say that behind every great bride there has to be a
great bridesmaid, and fortunately for Brenda, she had not one; not two, but
five amazing bridesmaids. Five belles of the ball at her beck and call, each
one with their own strength and responsibility that would essentially guide and
assist Brenda through all these tedious choices in the months to come. Brenda
was a less-is-more kind of girl and if she had her way, she would have married
in court yesterday but alas, even she knew that certain ceremonials had to be
considered to keep everyone happy. What would become of Brenda in the next five
months? Would she rise above the stresses and pressures that came with planning
the perfect wedding or would she lash out at the slightest sign of
imperfection? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fortunately for the Bridesmaids of West Coast Village, Brenda was anything but
your typical Bridezilla beast. No, she was probably what you’d call the
anti-Bridezilla; cool, calm and most definitely collected. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anything, it was her honorary
self-appointed head Bridesmaid with OCD that required anxiety medication to
overcome the fact that Brenda had so much to do in so little time. With only 5
months away from the ceremony, Brenda’s Bridesmaids had to find inventive ways
of getting her A into G, and what better way to build up the pending excitement
than trying on a couple of dresses...<br />
<br />
It was a chilly Saturday morning when the four bridesmaids
of West Coast Village decided to meet up at Bridal Boutique for Brenda’s first
official dress fitting. Five dresses, four bridesmaids (the fifth would tune in
on skype), one Bride and one hour. What felt like mission impossible turned out
to be the perfect solution for a bride that had no idea where to begin. With a
little help from the shop owner and her assistant, Charlotte, Miranda, Annie
and I felt like we were in our own private episode of “Say Yes to the Dress”.<br />
<br />
The welcome bubbles helped set the tone and calmed Brenda’s
nerves who had no idea what to expect. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
wasn’t long before we found ourselves immersed in a movie montage sequence of
crushed lace, organza and A-line waist drops. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
Seeing herself in a wedding dress made her realise that shit
just got real, and even though none of the five selections had the X-factor, it
gave Brenda a wake-up call and some insight into what she could and couldn’t
pull off. “We’re not 22 anymore, hey!” Miranda playfully jibed as we ruled out
the possibility of the open boob tube. Dress #2 ruled out any kind of champagne
sash or rosette while dress #4 opened up Brenda’s mind to the possibility of
having a princess cut, a look she had never dreamed of pulling off. She loved
the lace and oh boy did she look flawless in a full length veil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
While Brenda twirled and posed for “Happy Bride” selfies,
she started to appreciate the amazing support she had before her. While she may
not have a clear idea as to what her perfect dress might be, she had five amazing
friends that would never allow her walk down the aisle looking like an
oversized cupcake. “Your time is up!” That was quick. Knowing that Brenda would
need a snack on her way to the next location, I quickly shoved a handful of
complimentary Lindt balls inside my purse.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it comes to all the fuss and muss that goes with
wedding planning, I couldn’t help but wonder, why all this stress when it comes
to a dress? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-21935991175786853522014-07-17T22:04:00.001-07:002014-07-17T22:04:49.007-07:00Grind-err??<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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In this fast-paced world of information technology and ubiquitous
upgrades, survival of the fittest depends on our ability to keep up with the ever-changing times. It’s a mutinous battlefield out there where the old and faithful
are often replaced with new and shinier versions of the same gizmo
designed to make our lives simpler, better and sometimes faster. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Walk-men, wedding invitations, VHS, vinyl and
print media. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>All it takes is one
generation to render another obsolete, and while most things in this digital day
and age are as quickly discarded as they are packed, shelved and sold, how does
one remain relevant within these rapid waves of innovation?<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>It’s a tale as old as the floppy disk: Boy meets girl, boy
marries girl, boy has mid-life crisis and cheats on wife with younger woman. Boy
leaves wife for younger home-wrecker who in turn leaves him for someone richer and
older, until one day it’s too late for him to realise that he made the biggest
mistake of his life. Unlike modern-day technology, some men are incapable of
advancing into higher forms of intelligence. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>They become temporarily blinded by visions of
their former youths, a fantasy that got lost somewhere along the way as a
result of being with you. Like Blu Ray, they require something a bit more visually
stimulating, and even though the clarity of a care-free single life sounds far
more appealing, it’s only a matter of time before they realise they’ve: same shit, different package.<br /><br />In a perfect world the ex would die a lonely death and call
for you at his deathbed whispering regrets about you being the best thing that ever
happened to him, but in reality, being tossed aside and traded in for a newer,
younger model can have devastating side-effects. Not only is your confidence
and self-esteem tried and questioned, but for the first time in a long time,
you find yourself alone in a dating matrix that now seems so foreign to you; a
digital space where conventional modes of courtship no longer seem current.<br /><br />Friday night at the Ruby Bar brought together all sorts of
fabulous gays and gals, single, coupled and aged between 28 and 40. It was
happy hour which meant cocktails were cheap and conversation was dirty. By the time
I sank into my third glass of Boschendal Blanc de Noir, the conversation had switched
over to something called Tinder. At first I thought they were talking about
Ke$ha and Pitbull’s latest single, but it didn’t take long before I realised
exactly what was app...<br /><br />“It’s the heterosexual version of Grinder, love. The mobile
dating application? You have heard of it, right? It came out the same time
Ricky Martin did.”<br /><br />My gayest of all Minute-Maid Marcy, had just opened my eyes
and ears into another dimension. To me, it seemed like online dating on
steroids but to hopeful singles everywhere, it was an addictive catalyst to
one-night stands, promising potentials and even second chances. I couldn't believe it. Some genius
had actually created a smart phone app that could detect respective homo and
heterosexual prospects within a specific radius of one’s location. And you
could pinpoint them too! A mosaic of bite-sized profiles divided into tribes
and groups, likes and dislikes, dating expectations and chat windows, complete
with a mini-visual all for your convenience. <br /><br />“Yip. This is what it’s come down to. It's fun at first but it can also get
tiring.” I had met Sasha that evening, a 40-year old divorcee, professional athlete
who reminded me of Carrie Bradshaw. She’s one of those many incredible gals that leaves you wondering, ‘how the hell can you still be single?’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>“The worst is when you start chatting to a guy
you like prior to any kind of real date. You start chatting, and really hit it
off and you probably start liking him a bit more than you should, only for him
to do a complete Houdini on your ass. Poof. Like that. Gone. That’s when you
realise that you were probably one of ten chicks he was chatting to. Don’t
worry. Online rejection is nowhere near as bad as the real thing.”<br /><br />Had online dating evolved into the next generation making traditional
dating conventions dated and prehistoric? Were such high-tech modifications
easy to adapt to and if so, how does one navigate through all the lies and
bullshit? My knowledge on the subject was clearly limited to the online horror
stories I’d read about catfish killers and NSA PDA’s in the back of rusty
Chevrolets, but perhaps there was more than meets the "i". Was it more than just
sex? Did conventional dating methods need to evolve in order to
survive? Could we really find love in a cyber space?<br /><br />Marcy and Kevin did. Lauren and Jerry did. "I know it seems daunting and very new age for most people especially the older generations but anyone that can send an sms can certainly mac this shit. It's all about adapting. Old-school dating is like Betamax. It's Vintage." Oh Marcy. "I know the perception out there is that it's all about sex, which it can be, but it really is what you want it to be. Our first conversation on Grinder went something like this: <i>"Hey. Musc? Yeah. *Dick Pic* Hook up? Fuck yeah. Cum over!"</i> For real. And now look at us. Three years down the line, still going strong and couldn't be happier." <br /><br />When it comes to
being single in a digital world, I couldn’t help but wonder, what was the download?
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-89079796830731368382014-07-10T23:47:00.002-07:002014-07-10T23:47:28.271-07:00The Godfather: Part 1<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]-->When you grow up in a strong Catholic household, being asked
to become someone’s godparent is something that’s not to be taken lightly. Not
only are you responsible for a child’s care in the unlikely and unthinkable
event that anything should happen to the parents but you are also responsible
for the spiritual guidance and growth of this tiny individual who at this point
knows nothing more than boob, sleep and poop. While most godparents abandon
their pious duties the minute the squirming infant gets dunked and freed of
original sin, there are some that actually stay well beyond the buffet brunch. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accepting the title is almost as important as
making the decision and commitment itself, which is why every parent should
consider their choice wisely…<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s very rare to have a sibling that would literally die
for you. Ever since I was little, the only person I could trust whole-heartedly
was my youngest sister, Jasmine. No matter what predicament I found myself in,
and there have been many, Jazz would be there without a doubt or question. From
bailing me out of DUI’s in my wasted youth to standing up for me even when her
own moral fibre was being tested, Jazz was and always will be my hero and
protector.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course our rivalries
weren’t short of tears and bloodshed, but there was never an issue big enough
that we could not overcome. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the back of my cynical mind I kept thinking that her
eternal kindness would one day come at a price. I always felt this way about my
sister or anyone that showed kindness; mainly because of my resistance to the
concept of unconditional love but also because my sister was the kind of good that
I could never be. You don’t get something for nothing you know, and even though
my sister did more for me than I could ever do for her, I couldn’t help but
wonder….would she eventually expect something in return and if she did, would I
be as able and willing to say yes? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, my friend, are you ready to do me this service?” The
Godfather came to mind recently when my sister asked if I would accept the
position of being Izzy’s godparent. Any normal, rational sibling would have
said yes, but in a family full of potential Emmy nominees, I simply said, “can
I get back to you on that?” Yes. The look of horror on her face mirrored my
mothers. Just another disappointment I guess. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here it was. The one thing my sister asked me to do for her
and I couldn’t even say yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d think
after all those years of being my personal bodyguard, assistant and in a way,
my only true godparent, I would have jumped at the honour. Instead, I found
myself questioning her motives. Why me? Is it simply because I was her sibling,
or was it because she truly thought me competent of taking on such an important
role? How could she entrust me with such an important duty?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found the situation slightly ironic considering that my
sister, a devout Catholic (but also human) would ask me, a fallen angel to take over the reins of her daughter’s secular journey. On the one hand I did not want
to disappoint her (which is why I said yes, then no, but yes, then no) but on
the other I certainly wasn’t ready to take on such a significant
responsibility. I was in a lot of ways still a child myself in need of
spiritual guidance, and didn’t feel as if I was in the position to pass down
any kind of wisdom, especially when it came to the big G. My over opinionated
stance on religion would only end up disappointing my sister as it had our
father the day I decided to become agnostic. Surely my sister could see this.
Surely she wanted to immerse Izzy in the same belief pools and values as her
own? Was she following her heart again? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After careful consideration and much debate, I decided to
decline my sister’s offer. Of course, she did not take it well at first but I
know she’ll understand one day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No hard
feelings”, she said. Well that only made me feel even more wretched for not
being able to grant my sister the one thing she had ever asked me. Had I said
yes, it would have purely been out of love for her and not the child, who I was
still learning to love. Perhaps there was an underlying jealousy, a
subconscious envy that my protector had abandoned me in favour of her own flesh
and blood. Either way, my acceptance would not have been the right decision. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dearest Izzy. One day, you will come across this post and
wonder why I could reject the opportunity of being your godparent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will tell you because you asked and I will
always be honest with you no matter how much the truth hurts sometimes. I know
that you are going to grow up to be as kind and beautiful as your mother and I
will be there as your fairy godmother to help reinforce what’s important in
life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve never been one for titles but know that I will always be there for
you…when a boy breaks your heart, I’ll be there. When some skitch gives you a
hard time at school, I’ll be there. When you need a shoulder to cry on, I
currently have two. When you and your mother fail to see eye-to-eye, you can
look into mine. The love I have for you will be epic because of the endless
love I have for your mother and you will be an example of that love. To quote
one the best lines ever written: "Always remember: You is kind. You is smart. You is
important." <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
When it comes to choosing the ideal godparent, should we
decide with our head or with our heart?
</div>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-58868128316601422472014-07-03T22:14:00.003-07:002014-07-03T22:14:41.441-07:00The Perfect Match <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN-US">It takes a culinary genius to truly appreciate the delicate
craftsmanship that goes into a good food and wine pairing. Most of us, myself
included, simply nod in agreement when a wine connoisseur questions our ability
to detect the subtle hints of green peppers and figs in his latest vintage
of his Sauvignon Blah. To be honest, all I've ever smelt was alcohol and a
guaranteed good time ahead, but just like any good Merlot or block of Grana
Padamo, our tastes and maturity become more refined and discernible with age.
It takes quite a bit of swirling and swishing, sniffing and sampling before we
are able to find that perfect blend, a balance between an individually unique
flavour and someone else's intensity.</span><span lang="EN-US"><br /><br />Grilled fish with Sauvignon Blanc. Slow roasted pork belly
with a hearty Cabernet. Oysters and Champagne. If only the same guidelines that
apply to gastronomy could apply to romance, imagine how easy it would be to
find our own perfect match. But alas, love does not always provide the perfect
combination first time around. It’s far more complex and often requires a bit
of searching before the ideal fit can be found. Most of the time, romance can
leave a bitter taste, but for the lucky few that are brave enough to stomach
and endure the ups and downs, finding a soul mate to compliment one’s own
personality can be well worth the wait.<br /><br />There's nothing like a little couples weekend in some
remote wine country to get one's inspiration going. Christmas in July was upon
us and what better way to spend it than with the love of your life in a
romantic retreat nestled far away in the hidden valley known as Tulbagh.
Over hill and over river we went, through vast landscapes of muddy dirt roads
and acres of deep forestation. The two hour trek was well worth the wait, as
most things in life generally are, as we approached the gates of this magnanimous guesthouse
situated in the middle of nowhere. Guinevere was her name and she would be our
host for the next two nights of fine wining and dining.</span><span lang="EN-US"><br /><br />Love was literally all around us, from old love to new
love, rekindled love and still desperately searching love, but the couple that
stood out the most was definitely Brenda and Tommy. With only months away from
their wedding date, it was refreshing to see a young couple that truly
complimented each other in every single way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My first reaction to their engagement was tears, a horrible habit I had
picked up whenever one of my single girlfriends expressed so much joy. I guess
Miranda was right…when you know, you know.<br /><br />Whether they were tears of happiness or tears of sorrow, I
envied them for their evident compatibility. From their morning symphonies in
methane minor to the way in which they kept each other guessing, it was apparent
that these two individuals were clearly fermenting in each other's love. Even in their
bickering which would usually annoy the shit out of me, there was a sense of
tolerance and comfort. Yes, they pushed buttons and constantly
tested one another's patience, but even their quarrelling seemed cute. Was it
pre-marital bliss that made them the “it” couple to be or had they finally
found the yin to each other’s yang?</span><span lang="EN-US"><br /><br />I looked to my own relationship which at present felt a bit
like chalk and cheese. My relationship was less than perfect but still
preserved in bitter sweet love. So many opportune moments presented themselves this
weekend to rekindle a romantic flame that once burned so brightly, all ruined
by my own sour disposition. It certainly wasn’t Aiden. It was me. I had tasted
love so many times before that I’d actually grown intolerant to its entangled
essence. Why was I so afraid to let it back in? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /><br />Looking at these two peas in their pod, I wanted so badly to
have what Brenda and Tommy had found. The sad thing is that I had been there before; that place where
an innocent game of head stand or thirty seconds turns into a laughing fit, where
mockery of one's flaws was done in jest and not in pain, where laughter
was louder than any snore humanly possible. Do relationships need to go
through a bad vintage before it can produce something fruitful or are
some couples simply more compatible than others? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">No matter how cynical love can make us feel, we cannot deny that some people are simply meant to be together. When you see it in others, appreciate it and look to it as a sign of hope. Whether your existing pairing requires a bit more maturity and nurturing or whether you're still searching for something to whet your romantic appetite, it's out there. You just have to keep that heart open like it's your very own test kitchen. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><br /><br />When it comes to perfect matches, how do we know if he's
the Brie to our Chardonnay? </span>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-1990434521981004182014-06-26T23:26:00.001-07:002014-06-26T23:28:42.082-07:00Thirty-eishThey say the older one gets, the wiser we become, and while this little pearl of wisdom may be accurate in most cases, it doesn't mean that we have to be happy about it. No matter how optimistic one’s outlook on age may be, we can’t avoid the unnecessary and somewhat superficial panic that goes hand
in hand with getting older. Those calories that were once so easy to shed now seem impossible to lose as they find their final resting
place in the form of hips, back-fat and Oprah wings. Those delightful crevasses that allegedly give us "<i>character</i>" begin cropping up more frequently than we like to admit. Hair that was once thick, lush and flowing continues to sprout in abundance...that is everywhere<i> except </i>on your head. IBS, cellulite, balding, crow’s
feet. How the hell are we supposed to age gracefully when the act of
getting older seems to be so undignified? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the neurotic at heart, a birthday can be a depressing state of affairs especially when 40 happens to be the next big milestone. Not only does it increase the awareness of our body's inevitable decay but it also makes us question our life choices and where we find ourselves at a particular point in time. Just how much do we really change in a year? Are we really like wine that gets better with age or do we stagnate in pools of complacency, too afraid to plunge into the unknown? And then there's marriage, financial freedom and that timeshare holiday home in Betty's Bay. Why haven't these things fallen into place yet? Have we wasted precious time worrying about the future instead of living in the present? Did we party too hard in our wasted youth? What have we done with our lives and where the hell are we supposed to go from here? <br />
<br />
It happened. I turned 31 this week and just like Ryan Gosling's directorial debut, it came with a series of mixed reviews. I could have easily fallen victim to another year of self-deprecation but chose to look at the upside instead. For the first time ever, I focused on what I had achieved in a year instead of what I had not. I had nurtured my talents, produced a sports documentary, forgiven, forgotten, loved, allowed myself to be loved and made my theatrical return to an off-Broadway community theatre production. It was the first time I felt accomplished and comfortable in my own skin, and the first time I couldn't care less about what people thought about me or my opinions. Did I sometimes wish I had the liver and appearance of my 20-year old self? Hell yeah, but do I really want to relive the fresh hell and dramatic antics that come with being twenty-young? After thirty-one years I can finally say that I like who I am and what I have become...and it feels fucking fantastic.<br />
<br />
As I watched the flood of cyber-love stream in through facebook, twitter and whats app birthday messages, I felt a certain kind of love and appreciation that I had never felt before. I had made an impact on so many lives and left my mark deep in their hearts. People who cared and loved me for all the crazy that I am genuinely thought of me as beautiful and talented, and that certainly beat any worry I had about stiff joints and Vitamin D deficiencies. It was the first time I learned how to take a compliment for what it was. A compliment. While the actual day turned out to be a complete non-event, I thoroughly enjoyed reading these messages and appreciated each and every single one of them. You just don't get that kind of maturity in your twenties. <br /><br />Another life lesson I picked up on along the way is that our mistakes and failures are only as damaging as we allow them to be. We all fuck up at some point in our lives but it's how we pick ourselves up and learn from these blunders that makes these lessons worthwhile. I know it sounds like a total cop-out but when you enter the other side of 30, you finally see life as that incredible journey people tell you about and not a destination. We're all so caught up in rat races and finish lines that we completely forget to pace ourselves. We'll all get what we want eventually but only if we endure, even if it's only one baby step at a time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
And then there is the greatest love of all. Love for oneself. No one is going to ever truly love you back until you respect yourself enough to realise that you are freaking amazing. I'm not talking about that self-assured, narcissistic, my-shit-don't-stink kind of love but the self-appreciation kind where you no longer need someone to validate who you are. It's the kind of love that comes to light when you learn to forgive others and yourself for the past, the love that comes when you let go and embrace all things good as well as all the tragedies and maladies that measure our strength and define who we are today.<br />
<br />
I know it sounds as if I popped a handful of Valium and chased it with a dirty martini before I wrote this, but the truth is that turning 31 is really not that bad at all. There's a greater sense of calm knowing that who you were back then is certainly not who you are right now. Part of me is wiser, stronger and more self-assured than I was a year ago. I am braver and confident, more willing to take chances and risks, even if it threatens the barriers of familiarity and comfort. If you love yourself completely and wholeheartedly and keep good friends around you for as long as you can, you'll be surprised at what kind of human being you have the potential to become. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">When it comes to getting older, I couldn't help but wonder, do things only get better from here? </span></div>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-78915987200536248182014-06-19T23:59:00.002-07:002014-06-19T23:59:18.433-07:00Resurrection <i>For those who believe in resurrection, death is inconsequential. It's
not an ending, but rather a new beginning...a second chance. A reunion.
But the very idea of resurrection is so seductive a concept, it's easy
to forget that before you can rise from the dead, you have to spend a few
days in hell. - </i>The fantastic script-writer responsible for Emily Thorne's melancholic monologues at the beginning of every episode of Revenge.<br />
<br />
Previously, on Sex in the C.T...break-ups, babies, save the dates and unholy reunions. Who needs television when life presents its own dramatic doses of tragedies, romantic comedies and fantasies every day? It's amazing how much drama can ensue in just two short months, and while the time away was absolutely necessary to reflect on life-changing events, I have truly missed sharing my antics, and the trials and tribulations of the relentless characters that I am so blessed to have in my life. Consider this my resurrection back into the blog world, an open letter to the people that have inspired me, and the readers and followers that have kept my passion very much alive. But first things first. What ever happened to Kelly and Joe? <br />
<br />
Before my untimely sabbatical from the blogospheric universe, my relationship with Aiden had suffered what the French call <i>la petit mort</i>. I had finally terminated our four year relationship after months of
agonising indecisiveness and speculation. What was probably one of the most unstable periods of my life had not only affected my ability to write but also my ability to
function as a normal human being. Hurricane Katrina had nothing on the vortex of doom I had become during those tempestuous days that followed the aftermath of our break up. I found myself alone for the first time in four years without a hope or a shred of light to bring me out of the darkness.<br />
<br />
Flashback to that fateful Tuesday morning in April when I had reason to believe that
Aiden might be having another affair. With whom and how was unknown but I had let down my intuition once before and vowed to never make that same mistake again. Fueled by my own paranoia and insecurities of the past, I took his keys and kicked him out. I fell apart in the most dramatic sense as I found myself packing four lonely boxes and
black bags full of his belongings. Clothes, gifts, photographs. The
tears came down like waterfalls and I suddenly found myself puffing on
old faithful, a Dunhill Light or twenty after my seven month hiatus. How very disappointing.<br />
<br />
Throughout my possession of getting rid of <i>his</i> possessions, I found a box lying deep within the shadows of J.K Rowling hardbacks and contemporary pop-star autobiographies. A box I had somehow completely forgotten about. It's something we hoarders like to call a "memory box", a shoebox of tokens and momento's that we collect and accumulate throughout the course of one relationship. I'd destroyed many a box like this one including its respective contents with great ease but this one hit me like a ton of dicks. As I opened the floodgates of my romantic past, I came across the love notes he'd leave me to find in the oddest of places, the first red rose which was now as black as my heart, the customized P.S. I Love You wrapper, and who could forget those tiny little notes he'd written, hidden and re-wrapped inside a box of my favorite favorites. Shattered doesn't even begin to cover the way I felt in that moment. <br />
<br />
I didn't need this resurgence of feelings. Not now. Not ever. My mind was made up, but just like Pandora's box of horrors, I suddenly found myself questioning my own questions and actions. Had I perhaps been a touch dramatic? Was I maybe, just maybe, overreacting and misjudging the situation? Was this affair all in my head? The glass of single malt whiskey hidden in the bottom drawer was one thing but what proof did I have of his infidelity? <br />
<br />
The following Friday, after three torturous nights of not feeling Aiden's body beside me, I decided to meet up with him so that we could "talk things through" and address the issue at hand. It was like seeing a ghost. A sad, angry, disappointed ghost. I promised myself from the beginning that we would never be one of those tedious couples. You know, those insidious love-fools that make up and break up more often than the Sugababes. There's a logical reason why people break up in the first place. Lack of communication and resolution.<br />
<br />
That's when I realised that neither Aiden nor I had really worked on our relationship in a long time. We'd somehow become complacent, co-existing in a vicious cycle where taking one step forward only meant taking two very huge steps back. Sure the past four days had been hell on earth but wasn't the state of our relationship even more infernal? Would getting back together only mean jumping into a different kind of fire or were we finally on our way to heaven? <br />
<br />
It would be a total cliche to say that "we kissed and made up on the spot". Calm down. This isn't an after-school special. We did kiss and yes, we even had amazing make-up sex (which by the way is ten times better than break-up sex), but we're both a long, long way from happy. Just like the phoenix rises out of the ashes, real love is baby bird that needs a strong pair of wings before it can truly soar. Perhaps getting back together is a huge mistake and maybe we're falling into the common trap of
relationship co-dependency, but when you've gone through hell and back
with someone, and realise that life would suck without them, what's one more shot at the end of the day? <br />
<br />
When it comes to the resurrection of one's relationship, do we need to die a tragic death before we become immortal? Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-73329285815489580752014-04-16T22:26:00.000-07:002014-04-16T22:26:05.115-07:00The Last Supper<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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If you were brought up in a staunch Catholic household as I was, you'll know
all about the tedious ceremonials that occur over this so-called "holiday
weekend". While most normal children were out and about enjoying Easter egg hunts
and weekend getaways at Goudini, Roman Catholic kids were stuck in purgatory,
fanning themselves in stuffy church aisles with weekly newsletters as they
relive the biblical adventures of Jesus Christ. As if spending the past forty
days and forty nights deprived of our vices wasn't bad enough, our ancestors
felt the need to use this time as a period of reflection, a reminder that JC's
dramatic exit was always part of God's plan to
alleviate us of mortal sin.<br />
<br />
Trust the Catholics to celebrate something as morbid as execution and
immortality on a day that should be reserved for stuffing our faces with
chocolate bunnies and Cadbury Creme's. Although my faith in fixed religion went
up in smoke a long, long time ago, it didn't stop the story of JC's untimely
death from being relevant to my own set of trials and tribulations. Love, betrayal,
pain and deceit; the homoerotic subtext of twelve men breaking bread around an
illustrious dinner table. I'll probably burn at the gates of hell for making such
blasphemous inferences but if there is one thing I gathered from my sixteen
years of Catholic existence (and dating), it's that we all have a
cross to bear, especially when it comes to love and relationships.<br /><br />
Breaking up with someone you truly love is like fresh hell on earth and can easily
be compared to JC's excruciating crucifixion. Hung up, exposed, emotionally wounded
and scarred by all the pain and suffering. Tiresome and troubling until all you're
left with is a tomb of solitary confinement, half packed boxes of memories and
false hopes of resurrecting something that died a long time ago. While some
break-ups cross straight over into the realm of rebound, there are others that
feel drawn out and worn, like some prolonged act of contrition. The incessant quest for closure can be desperate and devastating, right up to the
point where break-up sex seems to be the only form of salvation.<br /><br />
The final supper can be a real feast of sexual and emotional intimacy, driven by a passion so wild that not even God himself could
tame it. The transfer of all those raw emotions from one body to the next can
be outer-worldly not to mention hot, but at what point does it become damaging?
Should all relationships have one final romp before calling it a day and if so,
what were the motivations? Are we really doing it for closure, a final
goodbye to end the relationship on a good note or are we doing it because we
secretly want our exes back safely in our arms where they belong?<br />
<br />
One night without Aiden might as well have been forty. It was the first time I slept in a bed alone in almost four years and the first time I felt separation anxiety. No
good bye kisses or hugs of console, just an angry accusation based on
insecurity and intuition. Were we seriously over this time or was this just
another phase that could be fixed with break-up sex? It felt over but there was still an air of uncertainty. The hunger pains for his touch grow steadily with every hour, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether we’d ever share one final supper
together? One thing was for sure, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a Good
Friday. <br /><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>According to the messiah of sexpertology, break-up sex should only happen when
both parties consent to the mutual outcome of their separation. It’s been often
compared to the night before a big diet; one mammoth binge session before the starvation
begins. Was I ready to wean myself off Aiden for good or did his absence
only fuel a brighter fire of lust and desire? Would it confuse the situation
and my supposed decision or would it bring our relationship closer to resurrection? Would it remedy all the problems we had before or was it a temporary fix to something that seemed destined to be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br /><br />
Trust. Appreciation. Respect. Once those elements are missing in a
relationship, you might as well nail yourself to a cross. The road to salvation
isn’t always a successful one and sometimes we just need to accept our
decisions, trust that fucker called intuition and get on with it. While
break-up sex can be a great source of uninhibited pleasure, it can also bring
out a whole new set of wounds, wounds that might take even longer to heal. Time can only tell what will happen between Aiden and I but in the meantime, thank fuck for chocolate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span><br />
When it comes to the crucifixion of long-term relationships, what are the consequences of one final supper? <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<![endif]-->Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-35800162553673829632014-04-11T00:09:00.000-07:002014-04-11T00:09:15.049-07:00Eeny -meeny-miny-ho! Remember the story about that fearless little girl with the golden perm who braved the big bad world all on her own? Confident, cute and unashamed of overstaying her welcome, Goldilocks has got to be by far one of the greatest literary heroines of all time. Unlike Rapunzel and Red, whose need for instant validation from the first man that came knock, knock, knocking at their tower door, Goldie knew that good things came to those who wait. She wasn't afraid of taking time to explore her options, even if it meant getting lost along the way. While she hadn't a clue about most things in life (such as breaking and entering being punishable by law no matter how blonde and ditzy you are), one thing's for certain...whatever <i>it</i> was, it had to be just right.<br />
<br />
Ever since the birth of modern-day feminism, women have earned a reputation for being too choosy, and they don't hide it either. Most women flaunt their picky-ness and wear it on their sleeves like a brand new fashion accessory. From the carbs they may or may not ingest to the expensive shoes they recently purchased on overdraft, right down to the men they date and subsequently marry. Every decision about love and life is calculated and weighed up against a checklist of impossible criteria; criteria that most men in this city fail to meet no matter how eligible they seem to be. This one's too small, that one's too big, that one wasn't quite right. Have we set the bar too high or are certain standards just way too unrealistic? <br />
<br />
For the first time in history women are just as powerful and successful as men if not more so which regrettably means one thing...no one will ever be good enough. The expectations are sky-high and most men simply don't cut it these days. We've come a long way from good looking charmers on white horses now that we've become our own heroes and breadwinners. Have we shot ourselves in the foot with all this gender equality and girl power entitlement? Are women expected to lower their
standards and expectations if they wish to find a suitable spouse and avoid a life of solitary confinement?<br />
<br />
Fortunately for mankind, women have always had the ability to adapt and compromise in such troubling circumstances, unlike Goldie, a 30-something year old entrepreneur, who refused to crack under society's pressure. Like most single girls her age, she'd been in the dating game for more than 15 years and clearly longed for the stability of a loving relationship. The only problem is "she hadn't quite met him yet." Most of her friends had already given up on trying to fix her up, resigning themselves to the idea that little Miss Fuss Pot was going to remain single for the rest of her life. Perhaps her lack of compromise was a bit pig-headed but there's something admirable about a girl who refuses to settle for anything less than perfect... <br />
<br />
"I have a very clear idea of what it is I want and I refuse to back down on that!" She did have a clear idea and she wasn't going to settle for anything less than a God-fearing athlete with deep pockets who'd respect and spoil her till her dying day. Her checklist seemed to be getting longer and longer as every year went by and started resembling a monthly shopping list. Although she had recently met a number of great eligible, single guys, Goldie had always managed to find fault in each and every one.<br />
<br />
"There's definitely a connection there but I just don't feel the chemistry you know?" "I couldn't possibly be serious about a guy who earned less than I did." "He's wonderful but there's just no attraction." She was by definition infuriating. Instead of just settling down with a sensible, warm-blooded man with
a stable income and average looks, Goldie had paved the way for a life of spinsterhood with her high standards and unrealistic expectations. Was she sabotaging her own life with these ridiculous hopes or did she really still have faith? <br />
<br />
"Every morning I wake up and ask myself, 'is today the day I meet the guy of my dreams?' Clearly I haven't otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. I've thought about lowering my standards but then I think about all my varsity friends who didn't and who are happily married to the most amazing husbands. Just because I'm single and thirty-several doesn't mean I'm desperate enough to settle for just anybody. I deserve greatness. It's hard trying to stay positive about the future with so many negative people around me telling me that I should give up on my notion of Mr. Right. I'm not OCD and I'm definitely not mental. If I end up dying alone then I'm cool with that too. I'd rather be single and alone than spend my golden years with someone that doesn't rock my world." <br />
<br />
While the notion of pursuing Prince Charming in this day and age is about as
realistic as Valeria Lukyanova's chest implants, there are
certain standards that a woman should never compromise on, no matter how
many toads she has to kiss along the way. Sometimes a little compromise can be surprising, and take us on journeys of self-discovery and futures we hadn't really imagined. Whether it's a matter of being in the right place at the right time, we'll never know. Fate and destiny have a funny way of playing out but it all eventually comes to light at the end. <br />
<br />
When it comes to Mr. Right and fairytale endings, should we wait it out or simply take what we can get? Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-84451497306450560032014-03-27T23:40:00.000-07:002014-03-27T23:47:41.682-07:00Versions of Violence<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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A few Sunday's ago at a recent family gathering, my father told me about the
new priest in his parish that quite literally practiced what he preached. Our
Lady Sovereign had been blessed with their very own rock-star dominee who
decided to visit the not-so peaceful community of Brooklyn Heights whilst
taking a much needed sabbatical from his popular online web-show, "<i>Hell
yeah, Jesus!</i>" My father, who was somewhat Catholic royalty, couldn't
believe how powerful and poignant his sermons were and thought his elaborate performances
were the hippest thing since Pope Francis' the 10th's twitter account. Of
course it all sounded a bit like Hill Song on steroids to me, a former
practitioner whose flesh would probably singe at a single speck of holy water,
but daddy dearest firmly believed that Mr. Preacher Man's methodology had the
power to convert even the unholiest of sinners. <br />
<br />
We often underestimate the power and long-term effects that words have on a
person’s psyche. While actions are believed to be far more audible than the
spoken form, words have the power to heal, change, inspire and motivate, make us the best versions of ourselves that we can possibly be. Sadly, they can
also have incredibly destructive side-effects, especially when used to manipulate
someone we claim to care for. Hurt, pain, suffering, severe emotional scarring. We
seldom think about the consequences of calling that chubby girl at school the
human blimp, or the effeminate boy who hangs out with the art crowd a raging homo. Instead, we do it to mask our own insecurities and boost our own sense
of control and power within that specific social hierarchy. <br />
<br />
But what happens when the bully-victim dynamic crosses over into our professional
and personal adult lives? What happens when the torment continues to happen on
a daily basis and becomes too much to tolerate? Do we fight back and move on or
simply cower underneath the covers of indifference? While some people evolve,
others remain exactly the same and carry out this obsessive need dominate
everything and everyone around them to the grave. They prey on weaklings with low
self-esteem and little to no confidence, fuelling their own masochistic desires
to break people down. A romantic relationship is nothing more than an arena used
to wield brutal strength on human punching bags. Sticks and
stones are infamous for breaking bones, but what
about words? Do they really do no harm or are they actually the most soul destroying
weapons of human destruction known to man? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stupid whore. Slut. I don’t know why I
stay with you</i>. It’s hard to believe some of the things we say to the people who we claim to love unconditionally, especially when we are fueled with fury and disappointment. Dina and Shayne had been together for nearly five
years, and even though they had there fair share of relationship troubles, it was only recently that the cracks in their relationship started showing. Shayne had
always been a bit possessive and controlling over her but not so much to the point
where friends and family needed to intervene. There were no physical bruises on
the surface but what people didn’t know was how turbulent and emotionally
unstable their relationship had become.<br />
<br />
After years of silence, Dina finally broke down, and opened up to a small
group of friends who had noticed how withdrawn and uninterested she had recently
become. She’d always had a low opinion of herself which her friends simply put to
her introverted personality, but lately, she was far more open about trashing Shayne publicly. She began to put her needs ahead of his own and made subtle, yet extremely awkward jabs about their relationship at every chance she'd get. “That’s just our sense
of humor guys,” she’d brush off whenever her friends tried to confront her about it.
What her friends and family didn’t know was that for over a year now, their
relationship had become beyond volatile. <br />
<br />
They argued all the time about issues of the past, barely communicated two words to one another and some nights, they simply slept in separate bedrooms. Dina felt like she was losing control of her life often feeling
like she was going out of her mind. She could no longer confide or express her true
feelings to Shayne because she was terrified that he would explode. “You want to
leave me so that you can go and fuck around? Of course you want to break up
because you’re constantly looking for the easy way out? You never loved me
because you don’t know the meaning of the word?” It worked every time. Was Dina trapped by Shayne’s emotional
guilt or was Shayne just a master manipulator? Did his words bear any truth at
all or were they just clever manoeuvres around her insecurities that would
prevent her from leaving? <br />
<br />
The push and pull had sent Dina into some very dangerous territory. She found
herself delving into some old habits and spending as much time away from home
in order to avoid contact with her so-called life partner. “It’s like we’ve
started living completely separate lives. I sometimes feel like telling him I’m
having an affair just so that he can hurt the way I did and leave. This is such an unhealthy
situation, one that has permanently scarred and warped my perceptions about
relationships. If I ever get out of this mess, I don’t think I want the
inconvenience of another person’s baggage ever again. What’s the point of
falling in love when it a) eventually fades away and b) leaves you constantly
disappointed?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><br />
Whoever said that words could never harm you has clearly never been in a
dysfunctional relationship. Of course, it could be a lot worse, but when words are used to abuse and manipulate, it's time to seriously evaluate the relationship. While most of these versions of violence are subtle and go by unnoticed, they still have the potential of leaving the
biggest mark of all. Do we get out? Should we stay? Are the voices inside our
head a result of this abuse or am I really a narcissist undeserving of love? Once the
grenade has been detonated, there's no telling if we can ever fully recover from the damage?<br />
<br />
When it comes to a war of words, when do we begin to surrender? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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<![endif]-->Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-84042318153899707732014-03-13T23:36:00.006-07:002014-03-13T23:36:57.201-07:00Demolition WomenIf you ever find yourself working in the hotel business for more than five years, you will come across a very expensive but altogether necessary exercise known as "refurbishment". In an attempt to justify the annual increase in preferential, rack and corporate rates, many leading hotels close shop from time to time in order to refresh their tired brand and essentially improve the product and overall client experience. Carpet samples and room extensions, fresh linens and tapestry. Basic amenities such as Charlotte Rhys hand soaps, rain showers and iPod docking stations. The extent of this transformation may vary depending on budget and desired outcome, and while the sole purpose of change is to lure and attract new clientele, it can also be used to retain the attention of more frequent, permanent guests.<br />
<br />
Being in your first long-term relationship can be like your first visit to a
five star hotel. Once you check in, you never want to check out,
especially when the service provided is top class and caters to your
every physical and emotional need. Twenty-four hour room service, in-house dining, complementary turn downs. It's no wonder they call the first six months the honeymoon phase, but just
like all things new, the novelty of such luxury can sometimes wear off too soon.
When you're constantly living the same routine day in and day out, the little things that were once regarded as attractive and appealing can suddenly
lose their charm. Sometimes, a slight modification can solve the problem without alienating the guest completely while others feel the compulsive need to totally revamp. It's perfectly understandable that a change is as good as a trip to Puerto Rico, but is it really necessary to whip out the
sledgehammer and reconstruct an entire person from
scratch?
<br />
<br />
"There's a right way of doing it and there's a wrong way of doing it."
Taryn, a 42 year-old sales executive had mastered the art of
relationship refurbs without compromising too much of herself and
without emasculating her partner in the process. "Every relationship
eventually goes through a lull and when it does, we find ourselves looking to change particular habits and personality traits within our partners to make us fall in love with them all over again. We want them to be more proactive with the domestics and responsibilities. We want them to push themselves harder in their career. We want to tell them this but because we are human beings we are sensitive creatures so we can't just blurt it out. It requires tact and delicate plan of action." <br />
<br />
So how does one begin to refurbish a relationship without riding in on a wrecking
ball? When open and
honest communication have the potential to backfire, how does one make alterations to their partner without coming across as a Nazi or fishwife? <br />
<br />
"James put on quite a few kilo's after Kyle was born and I didn't quite realise how comfortable we were becoming in that skin. He was quite active when we met which was one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place. Suddenly we weren't having sex even though I was horny as fuck so I knew that something had to be done. Instead of making him feel self-conscious or having any kind of awkward conversation where James might implode, I simply took action and hired a personal trainer. Twice a week for two months. Suddenly, we began communicating and laughing again. Not only did it save our sex life but because we were doing something together, it revitalised that connection and intimacy in our relationship." <br />
<br />
But how do we distinguish good change from pushy and possessive ones?<br />
<br />
"You get some real bitches out there who get some kind of a kick from publicly humiliating and bringing their partners down. I call them Demolition Women. They're the ones who believe in total overhaul. Once they get their hooks into a man and they're comfortable, the hard hats come out. They start telling him what to wear, what to say, how they should and shouldn't wear their hair, what and where he should spend his money. The Blue Balls as I call them. Demolition Women don't want boyfriends. They want a project, someone that they can mould and fit into their warped idea of perfection. Here's a newsflash sweetheart: no man is perfect! The best you can do is encourage him to be the best he can be. The rest is up to him. When you have someone's best interests at heart like that and they're willing to make the necessary changes that will inevitably bring out their full potential, that's when you have vacancy for life." <br />
<br />
Whether the improvement is external or internal, the general consensus
around changing one's partner in a relationship is generally not advised.
Whether it's his offbeat sense of humour that you used to find funny but
now detest or even a physical attribute such as the ten kilo's he's
gained since you guys got together, being honest with the person you
love without hurting their feelings is nearly impossible. No matter how
delicately you approach the subject, there's no good way of telling them
that certain qualities repulse and annoy you. You have to be subtle, sensitive and rational. While some partners see light renovations as something constructive and positive, some would rather have the relationship crumble to ruins before making any kind of adjustment. While minor D.I.Y's and home improvements have the potential to save a relationship, at the end of the day we simply have to love our partners just the way they are.<br />
<br />
When it comes to changing one's partner in a long-term relationship, I couldn't help but wonder, is it better if we do not disturb? Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575008367114925852.post-58119431215676333202014-03-09T12:04:00.001-07:002014-03-09T12:04:53.893-07:00The Lonely HeartThey say that no man is an island, but when you’re the only single
woman in her early thirties in a social group full of
boyfriends, fiancées and husbands, it’s pretty hard not to feel like a fucking loner. You've officially become the ninth wheel, the drifter floating amongst a sea full of loved-up couples, and even though you know your time will come - eventually? hopefully? did he die? - the pressure and expectation to
settle and become one of “them” can hit you like a tidal wave. Suddenly, the dynamic in friendships changes and you realise that if you don't follow suit soon, it's only a matter of time before you start becoming a liability. I mean, what self-respecting woman in a serious relationship wants to party
until 2am at a Sports bar while her single friend flirts
up a hurricane with some random Stormer's fan? What’s worse is that your recently paired friend who
was once fun to be around and in the same predicament as you has suddenly developed an opinion about your lifestyle and relationship status. The message is coming in loud and clear: <i>find a boyfriend or die alone!</i><br />
<br />
While the intention of wanting your token single friend to find the same joyful bliss love has brought into your life may seem honourable and humbling, it can also come across as selfish, underhanded and patronising. As if witnessing your best mate's new-found happiness, incessant texts to the point of not having a conversation at all and coo's of premarital bliss wasn't scarring enough, being the odd one out evokes a whole bunch of shitty feelings; feelings of doubt, fear and self-loathing, feelings you thought you had already come to terms with. Suddenly the possibility of being a grumpy old spinster with several cats becomes a very possible reality. The internal pressure is already bad enough to make you feel like a leper without all the tragic
looks of "don't worry, he's out there" and powerful pearls of wisdom that a 6-month relationship has
suddenly bestowed upon them. Yes. Congratulations. You found love and are happily on your way towards marriage and baby-making days...not to mention the possibility of divorce!! #justsaying <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jealousy is just one of the many other colourful emotions that comes with being the last one standing. Throw in a bit of confusion, sensitivity and resentment and you'll have the perfect recipe for alienating the friendships you once cherished. Of course we want nothing more than to feel genuine happiness for our friends and their good fortune but at the same time, we are petrified of losing them to kitchen teas, baby showers and play dates. Change is a natural part of evolution to a woman becoming a wife and mother, a change that a singleton might not completely understand right now. Are these just temporary feelings of insecurity and uncertainty until they catch the boat themselves or do certain friendships have expiration dates? Are great friendships doomed the minute an amorous knight appears on a white horse? Neigh, say it ain't so?<br />
<br />
"Friendships are very much like romantic relationships. It doesn't matter how long you've been
together, friends, like lovers, can
sometimes grow apart." Charlotte was my favorite single white female about to hit 33 with no potential partner in sight. She had been dating since the age of 16, saw the love of her life marry a Frida Kahlo look-a-like and was now the last one in her friendship circle to be married off. She'd never once felt miserable or deflated about her non-platonic endeavours and strongly believed that the sweet Lord above had an awesome plan in store for her. It was only until recently when she missed an invitation to some couple's retreat that she began questioning the severity of her singleness and the impact it had on herself and her relevant friendships. <br />
<br />
"When your gay friends start talking about adoption, it's a sign that it's time to start moving on and finding some like-minded friends. You'll always be friends because of the history and love you share with one another but the minute you fall out of sync with your bestie, then you might as well put out a wanted ad in the lost and found section." Charlotte's feelings of abandonment had forced her to go out and meet a recently divorced mother of two to fill her own social void. She was everything her friends weren't at the moment; available, mutually responsive and relatable.<br />
<br />
"What couples don't seem to realise is how self-involved they become. It really does become all about "them" and "their" happiness, almost as if there's nothing in your life that they could possibly relate to anymore. All of sudden you're treated differently, sympathetically, like not having someone to share your life with right now is the worst thing that could ever happen to a person. It's extremely off-putting."<br />
<br />
Did couples feel the same way about their single friends? Selfish shells of self-importance that have nothing more to contribute to the relationship? Reckless and pitiful reminders of the things they no longer regard as important? Marriage,
children, life partners. Of course we all want the same things but why should singletons be cast away the minute their timing is off? Should they find a way of trying harder to
keep up with the Joneses or should they wade through these temporary waves of loneliness and just keep swimming? <br />
<br />
"The most lonely aspect is how one day you're that person's person through all their hardships and agony and the next, it's like you barely exist. It seems like it was only yesterday that you were
trying on training bra's together and getting your first visit from
Aunty Flow. Your first boyfriend and heartbreak. The first time you had sex. Now, she's too busy reading mommy blogs and recipe books to spend a little q-time with the friend that used to be her emotional crutch." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Romantic relationships can make it difficult to retain one's independence and individuality especially when
you're thinking of taking the next big step. While some people are
able to remain themselves within a unit, others are quite happy morphing
into Stepford versions of themselves abandoning the past and looking only towards the future. While some friendships are able to survive the ultimate test of time, there are others that, just like relationships, were simply doomed from the moment she said, "I do." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
When it comes to friendships versus relationships, what came first? The boyfriend or the BFF? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Manni Bradshawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07172383242870715494noreply@blogger.com0