Something not many of you know was that almost the entirety of Andrew’s and my relationship was online.  He died the morning of when he was on his way down to meet me.  I spoke to him the night before and said good night, I was too busy and distracted to notice that he sounded weird on the phone.

Talking to her today brought back so many emotions.  So many crazy memories of talking to him until the early hours, drunken messages from each respective group of friend’s parties, emails of love letters trying to outdo each other with words, report backs on each movement of every event in every day.

I remember the first time we realized that our chats had become something more… substantial.  It was a simulrealization.  Both of us stopped dead at the exact moment and went “but fuck!  Hold on, I think I am in love with you! Oh jesus.  This is TERRIBLE!”

I remember getting to know all of his friends and chatting to them on skype.  I remember being jealous over every little reference he made to any woman.  I remember going over an editorial issue with a phrase in his book one night for HOURS.  I remember hating the fact that he refused to let me call his place mine, but he could call mine his.

I laughed at the time about all our plans and how absurd they sounded while I made them with someone I hadn’t ever met.  I cried when he said that on our first “date” he would have to tie his willy in a knot.  I died when he said he’d rather smell me, see how I fit under his arm pit, how he’d test out how comfy my couch was for mid TV-watching sex.  I sighed when he commanded me to rid myself of the habit of letting my pets sleep in bed with me, as it would not happen if we were to share a life together.

Ultimately, after months and weeks and days and hours, when Andrew finally got his head out of his book and I agreed to stop being a pretentious snob, we made arrangements to meet.  We were both terrified.  Sadly, he died that morning.  So I still don’t know.  But I can guarantee you that I have never felt so close to someone as I did that stranger of a man who knocked me to my knees.

It’s been one whole year, the second death of someone I adore, 12 months of getting over him and about 5 men later.  This other dude I’m seeing is the only one who’s held my attention for longer than two weeks.  But I haven’t forgotten about Andrew.  I don’t think I ever will.

I’m not talking about dating online, but what about meeting someone via other means of the internet and holding a connection… do you think there’s potential for something more than just a chat buddy?

I most certainly do.

2.  Watch in horror
As your cousin Kelly (and numerous others) instantly comment on the status feed.

3.  Be prepared
For “what-the-fuck’s, who-is-the-lucky-man’s, when-did-you-get-a-boyfriend’s and how-much-did-you-pay-him-to-pop-the-question’s.

4.  Reply with disgust:
Marriage is for quitters and that the word ‘blister’ refers to your sister and HER fiance.

5.  Realize that you’re too late as your mother screams down the phone not a second after you’ve answered her call:
“No mom, jesus – I am not pregnant!” you reply in a calm manner.

5.  Attempt to, in your utmost effort’s best, explain where the misconception came about:
“Oh my god, the baby’s name will not be fucking Lawrence if its a boy, I don’t care that its a family name.  Wait, I am not even pregnant!  Mother! Please, for the love of Winston Churchill, will you PLEASE calm down.  Kill the whooping, I didn’t say yes to anything!  We’ve been dating for a few weeks for god’s sake, I AM NOT ENGAGED!

6.  Not having much luck:
“Yes, I will tell him that Kev demands two cows and a chicken for Labola…”

7.  Call cousin Kelly to ensure confirmation that it was just a misunderstanding.
“You stupid whore, look what you’ve done!”

8. Reassure your mother of your intentions of not being a lesbian with commitment issues:
Yes, we’re still dating, Mom.  Of course you would be the first person to know if I ever chose to marry.  Could I at least shtup this poor oke before you hound me about marriage? No, I don’t know if he has “a big willy”.

9.  Finally starting to get closer to clearing the air:
*Sigh* I promise to tell you when I shtup him.  Okay Mom, I love you too”.

10.  Update your Facebook status:
“SheBee wishes to clarify that she is not fucking engaged. Morons!”

1.    Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not write ‘I like it dirty’ on the back of The Date’s car (equally as filthy as yours) at a carwash.  It will only cause your cheeks to flush when he teases you nonstop for the duration of the date.

2.    If you gracefully trip over a loose brick in the park’s paved pathway, after a delightful picnic, telling the brick to go and “fuck itself” is probably not the best demonstration of femininity. This becomes clear once you look over to The Date and his eyes are pretending to not be large and a little amazed at your prowess and command of the language which would shame most sailors, and their mothers.

3.    Do not answer a compliment of how good you look in those jeans with ‘thanks, but you should see how unshaven my legs are and you’d know why I wore them’.

4.    When The Date arrives at your front door after only two hours of being separated by previous day date, preferably you should not have your dads checkered and holey grey pj’s on.

5.    If The Date decides that joining you at your house to support your friend who is on TV instead of drinking beer with his friends, you should not greet him in the foyer by saying, “what, did you come back with chloroform this time?”.

6.    When lying on the bed after six hours watching TV, contrary to popular belief “I am pretty impressed. You haven’t let your hands roam or anything” is not the best way of complimenting one’s gentlemanship.

7.    Equally, his earlobe for choice of complimentation is probably one of the most random body parts and will only leave The Date bewildered and confused after you bite your tongue and look at the ceiling fan.

There should be a guide book or something of how to behave on these things.  Oh wait, there is.  It’s called Cosmo.  Pity I always choose FHM instead.

Amazingly, he wants to see me again. I actually wouldn’t mind it that much

*****************************

Jaun had proposed to me. He didn’t have a ring, but he was as serious as cancer. Me? I freaked out properly. Marriage wasn’t on my cards, it never had been. Up until this point I had never even wanted to get married. No one had ever made me feel like I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them, until now.

The problem was, I hated where he lived. I loved living on the coast too much. He loved the coast too, but would never be able to match the salary he was earning up there, down here. I refused to move to where he was. Too much crime, too much traffic, too much noise, and his mom was there. I hated her almost as much as she hated me. It just wasn’t possible for me to even consider moving there.

Let me tell you about one weekend with her:

After much nagging on his part, we spent one weekend at his moms place. He had decided that since it had been nearly a year, and he had met my entire family, it was only fair I met his. We had both been putting this off for various reasons. From what I had heard, his mom stood for everything I did not believe in:

• I was English, she was Afrikaans. To her, this seemed like a cardinal sin.
• she was a house wife, had never worked a day in her life. I had been self sufficient since I was 14 and plan to never be a kept woman.
• I had a baby at 18, enough said.
• When they had get togethers, the women were only allowed in the kitchen while the men took over the house. That weekend I sat outside drinking with the men.
• The minute I walked into the house, she said to Jaun in Afrikaans ‘I refuse to speak English. If she wants to be here, she can speak Afrikaans’ I understood every word, and replied to her in broken Afrikaans as sweetly as possible trying to disguise my disdain, that I would be happy to speak her language, provided she allow me to draw her pictures if I didn’t know the right words.

I was informed that ‘decent’ girls didn’t stay out of home until they got married, and she even asked me where Jaun slept when he stayed at my place. I wasn’t prepared to lie so I told her he stayed in my bed, with me. (Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Witch) She was horrified and turned around to Jaun and reprimanded him by saying that she hoped to god he used those condom things as she didn’t want a bastard from that engelse meisie (english girl).

As you can imagine, I couldn’t wait to leave and was so disappointed that a precious weekend with Jaun was spent trying to assure his Mother I wasn’t spawn from Satan. I don’t think it worked, to this day Jaun says she shudders when he talks about me. She would have been a MonsterInLaw. I would have never been part of their family, as much as Jaun thought it was possible.

The bottom line was that I knew in the long run things would go badly. We couldn’t have a long distant relationship if we were going to be married, jobwise nothing would have changed, and I felt that things were getting harder daily. And so I turned down his proposal and the next day, in our last moments of the holiday, we both cried as we said goodbye for the last time.

For a while we still called eachother every day, and SMSed constantly, but eventually we decided it was too painful and broke off all contact. One night I went out with mates and hooked up with a randome oke. The next morning I called Jaun to tell him how crap I felt about the dude not being him. We laughed about how terrible the situation was and fantasized about what our life could have been like if things had been different. A week later he phoned me to tell me how badly one girl he’d kissed slobbered all over him. She slobbered all over him, the stupid woman. Eventually we slipped into a comfortable routine of calling eachother when it felt right. Every call ended of with “I love you and miss you so much, but oh well”.

We both understood that it was easier to miss each other together than seperately. Three years down the line, things are the same. I have met others, but none like him. I’ve been in love, but not like it was with him.

Jaun has moved in with a lovely girl by the name of Jacqui. Speaking to her on the phone is always weird but pleasant enough, often I chat to Jacqui if he can’t answer straight away. Its a bittersweet situation, but at least it isn’t an ending. I still love him dearly, but he is happy, and that is all I could have asked for. I will find my Someone, eventually, when the time suits both of us.

The saying is true, ‘if you love someone, set them free. If they come back, its meant to be’. Jaun did come back to me, just in a different way, and you know what? Thats okay.

• Here is an interesting one about a guy who got pissed at his two mates so stabbed a chick, went home & knifed his mom, then spiked his dad while sleeping in his bed, stole his moms car and drove to a little clutchplate town called Orkney.  As Karma would have it, he crashed the car which then forced him to leg it a while til he got to a rail way track, where he was then squished to death by a train.  Bugger!
• Another one to read is about a 23 year old undead man. Apparently.  Pay R5 to see the boy who lived (again)!
• Wanna steal our almost gold-like status electricity?  Be careful, you might just get the befuckery beaten out of you and walk around with a frikken snake tied around your neck!

Life in South Africa.  Never a dull moment.  Hey, I got through this entire post without having the electricity trip, once!

I make an effort with every single person I meet, be it online, in person, at the shop or out and about with my mates.  I give each person common courtesy and am polite unless the person deserves less.

When I met Andrew, we had read each others blogs for a while before, and had a fair idea of who each person was.  I was cute and cuddly and sweet (har har) and he was an asshole.  He admitted to lying all the time, showed no respect for woman and generally just came across as horrible.  Yet.  When he spoke to me, he was different.  He would hate to admit that, but he was gentle and kind and caring.  When he finally came clean and told me he’d fallen in love with me, I was shocked.  This went against everything his blog stood for.  He was a player in a flashy car, when I met him, he was dating three girls at once.  He loved no one.  Yet here he was professing his love to me.

One of the first questions he ever asked me was ‘why bother with a liar’ to which I replied ‘who says I’m bothering?’ but the truth was, I did bother.  I took hours out of my days at work, home, sitting at friends houses, to talk to him and probe deep into his soul, and he let me.  I got to know the real Andrew, and it both scared and excited us.  Andrew was worth it.  I’ll never regret meeting him or falling in love under such strange circumstances.

Its not always so rosy though, is it?  I mean, aside from Andrew ending up dead, things were perfect for us, but that doesn’t always happen when you make an effort with someone.  Sometimes, you can really put yourself out there and get nothing back.  Or you can get a little bit back, but then just when you think you’re getting somewhere with someone on an intellectual level, they turn around and bite you on the ass.

Sometimes trying to get someone to open up and befriend you back is like drawing blood from a stone.

Sometimes, people just aren’t worth the effort you put into getting to know them.

Anyway, as per usual I was SheenaSuperhero again, and had the two victims with me at the house. I calmed the said party down, brought out some wine, and ended up getting pickled all by myself. Feel quite guilty now, surely it wasn’t the right place or time to be self involved? I think it was the fact that I’d been running around putting out fires for one family member since five, then when i finally got home and breathed, another family member called to say the very same thing was happening there too!

I finally got home just after nine, and cracked open some calmyoudown, which promptly ended up calming ME down…. waaaaaayyyy down. So the reason for me telling you this, is to cover my ass and have an alibi/excuse for saying what I am about to say, bearing in mind that I am hung over, and the after effects of alcohol genuinely do effect mood swings the next day:

In light of last nights activities, and someone’s profile I have read, I am inspired to do a list of my wants/needs/hopes in a man.. The perfect man…. does he exsist? I’m waiting to see.

- Looks truly do matter. Not the kind you are thinking of, the kind of looks and signals he gives out with his eyes. I truly believe that eyes are the windows into your soul. Therefore, when someone asks me if looks matter, i say HELL YEAH THEY DO!

- I want someone who will be good with kids. Not just in the future, he needs to be good with kids now. Kids are a huge part of my life. Personally, socially, professionally. Personally, I had a child of my own. He needs to know this, accept this. Be fine with me having photo’s of her lying around, be fine with my mom talking about her. Be fine with me crying on her birth day, or even her death day. More importantly, he needs to be fine with me not doing any of those things. The wound has healed, let me be. I may be sad from time to time, but I am ok. He should WANT to know about her, and feel comfortable asking questions. Socially, my friends all have children. MY best friend is mother to my two godchildren, I spend lots of time with them, which means he would have to aswell. Professionally, I deal with kids from broken homes all the time with life line. They phone in and I listen and talk and try to help where I can. Sometimes there stories are sad, more often they are horrific. I would need to sit down after a hectic shift over a cup of coffee and tell him all about this, and he would have to kiss me on my forehead and hold me close.

- Affection is so important! I love being hugged. And kissed. And touched. Touch my knee when we’re in the car, under the table, on the couch, in the line at woolies. Don’t confuse this with tonsil hockey, and spit swapping in front of old people, thats just disrespectful, but I’m not shy to love in public. He shouldn’t be either.

- Family is a huge priority. I’ve already spilled the beans about how huge my family is. And pretty intimidating at first. But once my family sees that he makes me happy and is not a psychopath/paedeofile/robber/axe murderer/rapist, they will accept him with open arms. And probably make him do all the braai’ing for a while. Until he has the balls to call shotgun. I would never embarrass him, humiliate him and would not be scared to stand up for him infront of my family, but they are important to me and he needs to try and get along & make the effort.

- Independance. I like to be on my own, its rare and not many people are this way, but I amuse myself and like quality alone time too. I drive my own car. I pay my own bills. I have my own accounts. I have my own friends. Don’t try change that. I won’t let you. But I am up for compromise; Lets go in two cars. U can stay if you aren’t ready to come home. We’ll split the bill half way, or this time I pick it up, next time is on you. We’ll visit my friends tomorrow, yours today.

- Have the ability to understand me. I am an open book. I right my own script. I will tell you how I am feeling. When I’m mad, happy, embarrassed, confused. Just ask. I love surprises. I’m spontaneous. So easy to please. I’m not high maintenance. All I ask for is honesty, laughter, companionship, love. I need to feel secure in our relationship. He should let me buy things for him. Sometimes they’ll be cheap and nasty, but humorous and teasing. I once bought a red heart shaped G-string for a guy on valentines day. I have also bought things that cost a bit more. Let me spoil him, and cook him great food. And when the food is not so great, tell me why and what you would have preferred.

- Allow me to be stupid. Although my IQ is higher than most (well, it used to be. I took an online test recently and it has dropped a few points) I can be a complete ditz. I walk into walls with or without my glasses. I say things outloud that should never be verbalised. I ask dumb questions. I randomly divert a conversation to that moth flying above our heads, or the waiter who just bent over. Bear with me. Its an interesting ride.

- Have patience with my trust issues. I have been burnt, as I’m sure you have too. My burns seem to unfortunately be on thriller movie level. You know that movie that you saw once where you couldn’t predict what was coming next, and when it does come, you could never fathom something like that happening in reality? They probably got the story line from my relationship track record. Show me I can trust you, win me over, and I’ll be yours for as long as you want me. Hopefully forever, because I am ready for that sort of relationship. I’m tired of being the only single girl at the doodaa with friends.

- Accept my career. I have a 24/7 kind of job. I get calls at 11 o clock on a Saturday night. Sometimes I won’t get any. I carry my laptop with me wherever I go, in case I need to do an urgent email. I am my own boss in the way of where I work, or when I get to go home, but that doesn’t mean I can skip my responsibilities either.

- Lets go camping! I don’t need hair dryers, make up or electricity! I can get dirty! As long as there is running water, showers and a toilet, let me show you how good I am at making camp coffee with condensed milk and a potjie pot on a fire!

- Sex is Awesome! Say no more.

- Let me be coy with my body. I have had a baby, I have stretch marks. I have a bakery going on around my belly, never mind rolls. If you’ve ever seen the movie “White Chics” I’m like t
he Backfat Sally girl, except not so bloody skinny. Deal with it. I have plans to do stuff, just let me do it in my own time. Unless Perfect Man plans on being my personal trainer, of course.

- Love Music! Even the slow, sad stuff. Especially the upbeat modern stuff. Let me sit in the bath and listen to Jack Johnson on full blast. When I’m in the shower, and doing my best Gregorian impersonation, you can laugh as much as you like, or even tell me to shut up.

There is so much more I can think of, but I will bore you with the details. The Perfect man… is there such a thing? I most certainly hope so!