Too Little Too Late

If 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 Glee 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.

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?

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? 

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.

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...

"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."

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?

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. 

When it comes to the cancellation of our favorite relationship, I couldn’t help but wonder, why is the final season always the best?  

Down with Love (A V-Day Special)

Love is a many splendoured thing, love, lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love…Sigh! 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.

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...

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?

"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? 

"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.

"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."

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..."

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?
 

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?

Cheat Day

At 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 2am 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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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?

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."

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.

"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."

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?

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?

When it comes to committing the ultimate crime of relationship carbocide, at what point should we stop pigging out?

New Terrain

If 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.

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. 

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?

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.

"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.

"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."

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?

"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."

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. 

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?

Les-be-honest: Part 2

Gays. 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?

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

"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.   

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?  

"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."

"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? 

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?

When it comes to the deviant nature of homo-erotic fantasies, les-be-honest, who's really hunting who?

Page 6

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?