How the honey moon phase ends

It’s tragic really. I fear that, in limited cases, when the honeymoon phase ends the whole thing must be done away with.

How it can all end:

A. Seeing texts from an old flame that are entertained.

B. A fight about money.

C. A really really insensitive joke.

D. Finding a dating app.

E. Getting caught in a lie.

Maybe all of the above. In this case it was D, cross pollinating with E.

After four weeks of bliss. It’s not any kind of bliss, it was the real deal. Delirious, longing, yearning kind of attraction. We even have matching birthmarks on the same damn spot. A unique shape, both look like surf boards. Made for each other romantic nonsense that’s so lovely to fall into.

How the cookie crumbles.

On the spur of the moment we decide to go out for dinner. So he gets to my place, he wanted to change the music, to something more upbeat. He then goes to the bathroom quickly. I head to his phone to see what awful music he was plotting, his taste in music isn’t always to my liking. I get there – POW Grindr and Tinder. Apps he’d honestly deleted 4 weeks ago. I quickly open Grindr, he’d started a new profile see. He heads back from the bathroom. Sees that I’ve seen the apps. I leave him to it, and go outside to have a smoke.

While I’m out, a phone call comes in from a friend on his. He’s gleaming and going on about how he’s at his boyfriend’s place. Makes me say hello to said friend. I have a brief chat with the lady – (I’m going to come back to this one) then he jumps into the shower. Leaves me with his phone, intentionally, I imagine, so I can see that he’d deleted the apps. Guy emerges from the shower. I ask him, did you quickly delete those apps? Embarrassed, he admits, at which point I say, we don’t have to talk about it now – and he got dressed for ‘date night’.

I contemplated for a few moments exactly how this date night is going to be. It’s delicious you see. I’d had lovers before, and things like this would completely ruin the entire evening. I was determined for this not to be the case. I chose whatever high road Alain de Botton would be very proud of. We get into the car and off we were.

It was tense, and I found myself trying not to be passive aggressive. I was trying to channel the best parts of me really. Trying not to have any octave changes in my voice. The usual traits of a seething scorned lover. I don’t know how effective I was – but we got to our table without much harm.

He carries on with mundane conversation about laptops and chargers and colleagues. It was all hogwash really, bottom of the barrel conversation. Cognitive dissonance at its most heightened form, it’s a horrid thing when you’re confronted with it. He was like a fish out of water, in a pan – basting itself – splitting fins. He finally gathers himself – with a coy “Okay so there’s an elephant in the room”. I knew that he was so far gone that I told him in earnest: “Whatever you’re about say, make sure you’ve thought through it – because I’m going to listen and engage.”

These words clearly meant nothing to him. Not a Goddamn thing! The below is going to both amuse and shock you at how in one lie your entire intellect can be fucked, ridden hard and left wet!

“So you know I can’t find my work phone. So I synced this one with my work phone. The apps were in the cloud, and they just downloaded again. They didn’t delete on the cloud. I was really surprised, but even my colleague confirmed that this is possible.”

What did I tell you? A five year old can poke holes into this entire thing. I did, he was back in the pan – ceviche actually, if you can imagine chopped fish still fighting for life. A bloody mess.

After 15 minutes of me convincing him to tell the truth. He finally spun another story. Not as bad, but you know how it goes – I had to make up my own mind at that point. The truth stop mattering. How sad?

It would hurt too much to retell the ongoing after this. The manipulative devices of future promises. Needless to say, the honeymoon phase has ended. I know have to decide how to proceed or if at all.

That’s that.

P.S. I was going to go back to that bit where he’d made me chat to his friend on the phone. Don’t you just hate it when people do that? I’ve always felt like it’s a cheap tactic to legitimize you and make you ‘known’ like it actually matters. I was going to give more examples, of such devices on this evening, but like I said. It would hurt too much.


What are people going to say, more on shame

As I said in previous post, I’ve been reading Brené Brown.

​Dealing with disappointment 

There are two kinds of people in this world, those who manage their expectations and those who don’t. Which one are you?

Managing expectations, what does that even mean? It sounds like the death of faith and excitement. Sounds like joy ain’t coming in the morning. Or maybe faith, excitement and joy must be earned to be expected?
One of the questions I often ask myself is ‘How did you end up here’. There’s no real answer to this question. It’s appreciating that many things you could’ve and couldn’t have influenced land you in every single moment you find yourself in. It’s a bitter/sweet thought that gives temporary reprieve from shittiness. 
It still all sucks
The never ending ode to disappointment is boring and lonely. 
The worst I’ve heard on this:

  • Work with no expectation
  • In this life you never get what you want, you get what you work for
  • You reap what you sow

Disappointment fuels all the mechanisms that allow you to feel small. When you feel small everything feels massive and like it’s never going to end. 
How to deal with disappointment? Understand 

Doing stuff and a drink

Alcohol has a way of numbing all your senses. Of all the activities I have in my life, work is quite honestly the only one that doesn’t allow drink.

So here I am on a sunny Saturday. 

But did you die?

At my second sad beat in two days. These things man. 

The Best of 2016

I’ve figured that everyone is tired of 2016 and glad it’s over (nearly). Got me thinking about my 2016.
Was it awful? Sometimes. Was it great? Sometimes. 

Stop this nonsense and come back home

For three and a half years I was told, in so many different ways how I’m not cutting it as a boyfriend. Somewhere out there’s a contemporary template that everyone carries around and it has a list of doos, definitely doos and I will lose my shit if you donts. I was often on the worst side of this rigid template.

My history tells a story of someone who doesn’t much value themselves. Everything that you are, and everything that you’re not is exploited in a relationship. It’s just how it happens it seems. So I never questioned this opinion of me. The definition of complacency. Must have been frustrating for him.

It’s not about that though is it? Who did what? Maybe it is, but I’m not wired like that. Lists, templates, rules and expectations. What business did an A type personality have dating me? But then he did, we did. For three years and half.

I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t a long time coming. I wanted to last for long. I could’ve, complacency again? In the same breath, I’m just telling my side of the story. But because he’s still so deeply inside of me, I can feel him screaming for his side to be heard still. For three and a half years it’s what I heard. But he’s gone now. But not so gone? What the fuck is this? I’m being haunted! This is exactly what it is.

It’s the weirdest thing though. I’ve never ever ever ever had anything like this in my life! It’s not like pain. It’s like the fear of imminent death. Like I’m going to die at any minute. I’m going to die. I can wake up, and go to work. I don’t think I’m depressed. But I might just die.

So I want to say ‘stop this and come back home, you are killing me’.

P.S. A new me will be birthed through this death. A little macabre…but what else is there? Life and death…

All my life I had to fight and all my life I must

I’m not much of a fighter, but now I realised that I absolutely need to be. The other day I wanted to repair my shoes, they literally just needed glue. I went to Levingers in Lonehill. I give them my shoes and they tell me it’s going to cost R200 – two shoes for glue. I’m taken aback by this, but I think whatever let me pay. The costs of finding another place will add up, also I’d been procrastinating on it for a while. After paying they tell me it’s going to take 4 days. I was shocked, R200 and 4 days for glue. But I’d paid already, so I swallowed my disappointment and I left.

On my drive home I remember thinking of the things I just accept because conflict and inconvenience give me ulcers. The reality of it is that I’ve never had these ulcers and maybe it’s time for them. Everything started feeling so personal.

I ruminated on being a gay man and how that came with the struggle of my identity being fingered. The endless teasing where I had to puff my chest out to defend myself in the face of ridicule. I thought about how tough I had to be in fighting that battle. I got used to it, I got stronger every day and it worked out. As anyone would tell you, it’s not easy, even though it gets better. It’s a fight with yourself and everyone else.

Then I started thinking about a very dark time at my last company. I worked for a trash company that kept losing human resources, and the work would always fall on my lap. I remembered how I just took the abuse and never complained, never fought back, never said HELL NO. I bowed out of that company, same way I did with the shoe place. With my tail between my legs, like a helpless dog. Which is fitting because I was worked like a dog.

Now I’m sitting with all these thoughts and I’m having an ‘enough is enough’ moment. I am so done! This is not happening anymore. I’m going to get very uncomfortable and sick to my stomach every single time I’m taken advantage of. I’m going to get all the ulcers. Everyone gets to be happy but me. I am the one who has to go through these should’a-would’a-could’a motions. I am so done!

There’s no grace in this. It is becoming clear that I have crippling pride. It’s pride that’s marinaded and soaking in shame. The shame of appearing not to afford R200, the shame of being gay, the shame of appearing incompetent and unwilling.

There’s a quote somewhere out there about comfort being the undoing of us all. I’ve suspected that that’s the thing that’s been holding me back. In comfort there is no grit, there is no courage. It is Maya Angelou who said ‘Courage is the most important of all the other virtues. Without courage you will not be able to perform the other virtues.” There’s so much truth in this. You have to courageous to seek justice. You have to be courageous to have faith. I also remember something that my late grandmother said. She identified something in me. Told me that I needed to be brave in my life. I asked her what being brave meant, she said it’s to trust God and his promise to you. A wise woman! This is how I’m going to honour her! Grit all the way!

Post script

This outlet is so important to me. This post is a clear sign what the issue is. It take humility to share. Also I’m reading a book by Brené Brown – I thought it was just me. It’s giving me much insight to the tapestry of my life. Looking forward to sharing.


Rude bosses

One of my directors was so rude to me today! It was awful! I couldn’t deal. Fell into a spiral of depression for a little bit. 
“The way people treat says a lot more about them than it does about you.” isn’t enough. Sometimes all you just need is to say ‘fuck you’ to someone and your heavy heart will rest easy. But you can’t can you? 
A few weeks ago I read a story about a woman who was arrested after taking a dump on her boss’s desk after winning the lottery. This, I believe, is the result of a thousand pending fuck yous. 
What then do we do until we win the lottery? How do we suffer through the piling fuck yous? I know for sure HR does not have the capacity for every single instance of sheer rudeness. So what then? 
Sigh, growing contempt is a terrible burden on anyone’s soul. We’re going through enough. I have to let go, I have to always let it go, for my own sanity. It’s the best I can do for now.