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If 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.

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? 

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?

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.

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.

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.

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?

"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.  

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.   

When it comes to trash-talk in the professional environment, I couldn't help but wonder, can women live on gossip alone?

Fri(end)?

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. 

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?

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)?

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 

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!" 

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?
 
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. 

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, 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.  

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. While personal evolution is different and necessary for each and every one us, it can sometimes leave us strained and disconnected. 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. 

When it comes to besties and lifies, how do we stay close without compromising too much of our current selves?


    

Say 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?

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.  The vows and the Vicar, the guest list and the gifts. And yes, oh yes, the perfect dress.  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? 

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? 

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.  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...

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”.

The welcome bubbles helped set the tone and calmed Brenda’s nerves who had no idea what to expect.  It wasn’t long before we found ourselves immersed in a movie montage sequence of crushed lace, organza and A-line waist drops.  

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.   

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.
 

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?        

Grind-err??

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. Walk-men, wedding invitations, VHS, vinyl and print media. 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?

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. 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.

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.

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...

“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.”

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.

“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?’ “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.”

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?

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: "Hey. Musc? Yeah. *Dick Pic* Hook up? Fuck yeah. Cum over!" For real. And now look at us. Three years down the line, still going strong and couldn't be happier."  

When it comes to being single in a digital world, I couldn’t help but wonder, what was the download?    

The Godfather: Part 1

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.  Accepting the title is almost as important as making the decision and commitment itself, which is why every parent should consider their choice wisely…

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.  Of course our rivalries weren’t short of tears and bloodshed, but there was never an issue big enough that we could not overcome.  

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? 

“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. 

Here it was. The one thing my sister asked me to do for her and I couldn’t even say yes.  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?

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?   

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.  “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. 

My dearest Izzy. One day, you will come across this post and wonder why I could reject the opportunity of being your godparent.  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.

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."     

When it comes to choosing the ideal godparent, should we decide with our head or with our heart?

The Perfect Match

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.

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.

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.

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.  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.

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?

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? 

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?  

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.     

When it comes to perfect matches, how do we know if he's the Brie to our Chardonnay?

Thirty-eish

They 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 "character" 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 except 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?   

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.   

When it comes to getting older, I couldn't help but wonder, do things only get better from here?