Sunday expedition.

Sunday morning was less than ideal. My car battery had died Saturday night which I only discovered after a night of frivolities in Obz. It was also less than ideal that we still thought it a good idea to push my car down a oneway with no lights on in an attempt to get it started. Now the little car was parked far away from my friends' house and as I realized when in bed – without gear lock. Thus I had horrible dreams, completely convinced my car would be stolen, and already tried to come with financing, unsuccessfully I should add, for a new car while trying to fall asleep.

Reality came crushing down in sunny Obz when my car was not only unharmed, but we also managed to get it started within two minutes. Then I took the little car for a spin and to town and gave it all around lots of TLC. Though it seems I was the only one with a sleepless night for all the worry, the car showed no signs of suffering from any abandonment issues.

We – the car and me that is - went to the Garden Centre for some shopping to calm my nerves only to almost run into the Frenchman with now-not-so-new-anymore girlfriend. Does it ever pass? This feeling of how much one hates running into an ex without make-up after a sleepless night? They were coming out of Pick 'n Pay and luckily I was able to dodge the bullet, eh, the awkward hello and lying how good it was to see him. I quickly nipped into the movie store and then off to Woolies. There the magical thing happened. In the queue which was very long which was great, because there was: me, a really cute guy, lots of looks and little smiles, and some more looks and little smiles.

And so the equation goes:

Caudalie moisturizer, which makes you look glowing: R 350 

Woolies groceries: R 280
Flirting with a cute guy when not wearing any make-up and after almost running into an ex: Priceless

And this is why I like Woolies so much better than PnP...

Sérieusement?

Remember Grey’s Anatomy and Meredith’ and her “Seriously?” whenever someone did or said something really unbelievably stupid? I always thought it made her sound a bit stupid herself. I don’t anymore.
As I mentioned a lot of stuff and people irked me last week, but the Frenchman really took the cake. Yes, you read correctly – the Frenchman. I thought I should just silently grumble and get over it, but Thekla (I guess I wasn’t so silent after all) said, I owe it to my reader to share.

We, the Frenchman and moi, were just engaging in a friendly chat of SMS messages, geared towards him finally fetching his necklace from me. It was all well and good till we went into the How is your life and what are you up to? territory. Upon me telling him, no, I was not married yet, neither a lesbian, and not 40kgs heavier than last time we met, I received this answer from him:

Totally ok with girls :-)  This was in response to my non-lesbian comment, harmless enough. My body is refining (very) slowly. Started gyming as prep for Ironman training for next year. Also harmless and only interesting in the regard that I wonder how someone who smokes like a true Frenchman will do Ironman? Still not married…Been going out with xyz* for a year now.  I pondered on the fact that this was sort of a strange statement considering that he was still sleeping with me a year ago. Cleary remembered by clearly only me as it was 2 weeks after my knee surgery and he brought me bread to bed the next morning so I could take a pain killer. Then again…who is counting…the women or the months? And went to get snipped to avoid accidental offsprings! Cake. Taken. I need a haircut and a shave though! :-) Who the f*** cares about the haircut now??

After that I rest my case and Grey was right. Sometimes there is just no other reply, but a big, fat seriously?

*There was a proper name. I don’t like it. The name that is. Thus edited and of course because we shall not name the innocent, new girlfriends.

The Frenchman's final chapter.

Okay, so my weekend was less than peachy. The upside here is that now even a usually common Monday feels quite grand as I am just so happy the weekend is over. There is also a prego roll on the horizon for tonight. Yum.
This is just a short and sweet warning to girls anywhere in the world: Beware. Murphy’s Law works on weekends as well. I thought the bugger was off yesterday, so I left the house sans make-up, wearing sweatpants. After all it was just Sunday and what excitement could there be at Pick ‘n Pay? Excitement in a very tall, very French form right at the entrance by the baskets – voila the Frenchman. I thought it best to face him head on as I didn’t feel like hiding behind shelves for the remainder of my shopping. Off we went with the hugging and the niceties:

He: I thought about you... yesterday.

Me: Funny that. Me too. (Actually true, I was looking for a French translation.)

He: Reeeally? Accompanied by THAT look.

Dude. We are done and over. Do not give me THAT look anymore.

On we moved with our trolleys, talking about electric kettles. Next thing I am informed that he moved and his girlfriend helped him buy new furniture for his flat yesterday.

“Dear men everywhere, do not give a girl you once dated THAT look and tell her two minutes later you have a new girlfriend/ interior decorator. And dear men, on that note – don’t not ever pay for dinner and then tell me you spend a fortune on new furniture with your new girlfriend. Just don’t. Especially not after giving me THAT look. Sincerely, girls everywhere.”

I managed to lose him between aisle 12 & 13 and urged the cashier to hurry up. Exit now! At home I realized a glass of wine was in order, after all it was after noon, it was Sunday, and I had just had a bit of an exorcism, surely three good enough reasons.

Today I feel like phoenix from the ashes. A good feeling which even lasted after reading an email from him, telling me how good it was to see me. Still feeling good after reading a second email from him a few hours later, asking me if I want new episodes of our favourite show. But still...

“Dear men everywhere, do not give a girl you once dated THAT look, then tell her about your new girlfriend, and then send her emails. I mean – seriously? Just don’t. Sincerely, just me.” Just saying.

Égoïste translated.

Today should be Monday. It feels like a Monday. It is raining. I dreamed I went on vacation with both my parents, my brother and his family. If you know us, you will understand that this is not a pleasant dream. The Frenchman has a girlfriend. Big breath. Though I guess now the voodoo has no other choice but to work. For now I am still dealing with the ancient question of “What does she have that I don’t?” Has anyone in history ever gotten a satisfying answer to this question? Except the bitchy answer - she has the boy and you don’t.
Anyone? Anything? Come now, we can fly people to almost Mars these days, how is it possible that we haven’t progressed with this matter?
To find answers I started my own, small survey i.e. I asked my friend Naomi. Here is her answer: “Dude, don’t go there, it could be that she has smaller ears.... or she blows bubbles in his ear.” That’s why one needs friends! Before I could start arguing with her about ear size and such, I luckily remembered this piece of beauty and it made me feel all better:

I decided instead of whining around, asking stupid question, I will join the league of gorgeous women all over the world, call him a selfish prick, elegantly slam my imaginary shutters closed, and move on.