A dinner date function

On Friday evening I had an event with my dating service. This dinner took up "two function credits" and the email that accompanied the invitation read "if last year is anything to go by, you will definitely not want to miss this dinner".

I knew that my exams would be over so I booked. This was the perfect opportunity to 'scout' for some new dates and check out the other girls with whom I would be 'competing' with.

The event was hosted in the upmarket French restaurant, Brasserie de Paris, in Waterkloof, Pretoria. 

I was quite nervous as one would expect. Well, I am a INFJ personality according to the Myers-Briggs personality test - I do not like small talk. That and the fact that the dress code was "smart/cocktail". Thank goodness that my best friend is a stylist.

Dressed in knee high boots, stockings and a cocktail dress with my hair curled I set out.

I walked into the room and was immediately greeted by the lady from the dating service. She escorted me to my seat on a long table (thank goodness) where I found my name tag. Que the stares...

Happy Birthday to me!

About a week before my birthday every year I go into ‘reflection-mode’. I start considering the probability of my parents meeting, of that turning into a long-term relationship and the chances of that lasting long enough to result in offspring. I mean, look at the luck I’m having here – and I’m not even a ginger like my dad.

Then I start thinking about the fact that I’m the result of the fusion of one particular egg with one particular sperm.

Then I start thinking about the supremely unlikely and utterly undeniable chain of events that led up to my existence. All of my ancestors lived to reproductive age - going all the way back to Adam and Eve… (working in some theology there).

When I start thinking about the probability of all of my ancestors meeting and all of their sperm-meets-egg odds. Think about this, if even once the wrong sperm met the wrong egg, I would not be sitting here. In fact, some scientists estimate the probability of your being born at about one in 400 trillion.

One in 400 trillion.

Therefore, I reckon birthdays are definitely a day worth celebrating. You were the size of a watermelon (well, I was at 3.36kg) and you made your way out of an opening the size of an orange and you arrived into the world. At that very moment you changed the entire world, because you altered the dynamic of your family and your community and your city and your country and our world. That makes you pretty significant, as far as I’m concerned.

I entered the world on Monday, the 15^th of June 1987 at 15:10 afternoon which will make me 26 tomorrow.

 

On my very first birthday

My date with #6

I finally had a date with Number 6! I say finally because we were introduced two weeks back. After the initial phone call and checking of schedules, we agreed to meet in the next week, but we didn’t set a date. A week later, after not hearing anything from him, I sent a message to try and fix a date.

Our schedules just didn’t seem to line up. I spent last weekend in Thabazimbi with a friend at a real boere Wildsfees and we even saw a contestant  from the Boer soek ‘n Vrou show who entered last year… I’m taking this as a good sign.

Anyway, back to my date. The only time that suited him was on Tuesday evening. I was writing my first exam on Wednesday, but I thought ‘we really need to get this date going’. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop at 20:00. I pitch at the coffee shop at 19:55. At 20:05, at the risk of looking like my date had stood me up I go into the bookstore next door… Browsing…browsing… buying a book…ordering my own hot chocolate…reading my book…

At 20:18 I get a message from Number 6 that he is in fact in the bookstore. And then I see him.

Since he doesn’t have a Facebook account I had to go on his WhatsApp profile picture which is a ‘professional’ photograph. You know the photo where a man leans against a wall, hands in his pockets and stares longingly into the distance… My friend said he probably had make-up on as she noticed the discolouration comparing his face, ears and arms. Ha! I thought that was hilarious. He was not that bad. Hell, I even had a gay friend say ‘Oh, he’s cuuuuute’.

 

This is not Number 6... unfortunately!

My brief aan Fanie

Die inskrywingsdatum vir Boer soek 'n Vrou is verby en my brief is in. Yeah! Nou is dit net die gewag tot 25 Junie om te hoor of ek as een van die 10 meisies is wat deurgaan om my gekose boer te ontmoet - as hy ooit een van die top 5 boere is! Die reëls het my toe gekeer om aan 4 boere te skryf - jy mag net vir EEN boer inskryf en toe het ek maar my gut instinct vertrou en vir Fanie geskryf. Hy is tog so oulik met daai aksent en van almal het hy regtig eerste my oog gevang.

Die hele proses om in te skryf was soveel pret dat ek nie eers hartseer sal wees as ek nie een van die 10 meisies is nie! Die photoshoot sessie was ongelooflik vreemd omdat ek nie regtig 'n meisie is wat hou van 'n poseer en tittewyt nie. Dit is darem voorafgegaan deur 'n lekker sessie in die winkels, 'n afspraak by die haarsalon en ek het selfs my grimering laat doen! Ha! My foto's moes ek ongelukkig self edit - moenie 'n fotograaf vertrou wat jou R200 vra nie. Ek was in 'n toestand daaroor. Goeie nuus is dat ek darem nou 'n nuwe kiekie het vir my blog! Yeah!

Die pakkie opmaak was 'n fees! Ek het toe nie my beskuit bak vermoëns vertrou nie en eerder op twee oulike 'geskenkies' afgekom. 'n Sakkie lang vuurhoutjies vir braai en 'n bietjie 'Holbrandkerrie'. Ha! Ek het gedink dis nou die ideale ding om my sin vir humor ten toon te stel.  Ek dink my pakkie het heel oulik gelyk - dit gaan definitief nie terugstaan vir die ander meisies se pakkies nie. Daar word moeite gedoen, hoor! Dis nie net so eenvoudig soos om op 'n gewone exam pad iets neer te griffel nie en in 'n bruin koevert te stop nie.

My brief... hierdie een was rof! Ek het 'n hele naweek gevat om dit te skryf en toe nogsteeds elke dag bietjie verander. Ek het van 7 bladsye af verkort - ek wou my hele lewensverhaal vir die arme man stuur. Dit was 'n moeilike storie om so vir iemand te skryf wie jy nie ken nie en dit voel regtig met tye soos 'n dating CV. Die skryf van die brief het my laat dink, my laat kyk na my eie lewe en my uitgedaag om my 'kern' op te som. Ek wou nie een van daardie meisies wees wat die tipiese 'ek is avontuurlustig, ek hou van reis en lang stappies op die strand' briewe skryf nie. Ek wou uitbrei. Ek wou gehad het my persoonlikheid moes duidelik deurkom. Ek dink ek het dit dalk reg gekry.

Hoe fraai lyk my pakkie nie? Ek is maar een vir nostalgie - so, ek het my brief met die hand oorgeskryf, parfuum gespuit en dit met 'n lintjie toegedraai.

Hier onder is my brief wat ek aan Fanie geskryf het. Ek het ook 4 'professionele' foto's gestuur en 4 'Polaroid' foto's sodat ou Fanie darem kon sien dat dit wat ek in my brief geskryf het,  waar is.

Hou vir my duimvas! 

Boer soek 'n Vrou

To my English readers: This post is in my home language Afrikaans. It’s about a strange dating type show where girls essentially enter to meet a farmer. Culturally, this may sound weird and I’m sure if you try and put this post through Google Translate it will sound even weirder. Don’t bother. I’ll write the next post in English again as my next date has been introduced and we plan to meet up this week.

  

Afrikaans pappa! Hierdie inskrywing kan slegs in my ou hartstaal geskryf word en dit voel skoon vreemd om nie in die ‘taal van die vyand’ te dink nie.

Ek is seker daarvan julle het al van KykNet se program Boer soek ’n Vrou gehoor. Verlede jaar sou ek ingeskryf het omdat ek ’n weddenskap met ’n vriendin verloor het, maar kort voor die inskrywings gesluit het is daar darem vir my gesê dat ek nie meer hoef in te skryf nie. Ek was ongelooflik verlig want ek het nog nooit regtig die program gekyk nie.

Ek het so paar episodes laasjaar gevang, maar nie regtig veel opgelet nie. En toe is dit 2013, en ek is steeds alleenlopend en toe herinner my liewe vriendin my dat ek miskien hierdie jaar moet inskryf.

Hier is hoe die program werk: 10 boere oor die land word gekies en aan die land voorgestel. Daarna kry meisies die geleentheid om vir hierdie 10 liefdesbriewe te skryf waarna dit aan die boere voorgehou word. 5 boere word hier geelimineer omrede net die 5 boere wat die meeste briewe ontvang het aanbeweeg. Die boere lees dan hulle liefdesbriewe en kies dan ’n sekere aantal meisies om te ontmoet. Ek dink hierdie is 10 meisies – ek sê mos ek het nie regtig opgelet in die klas verlede jaar nie. Mos.

Na ’n kort onderhoud/gesprek met die boer kies hy dan 4 meisies om saam met hom plaas toe te gaan en dan stuur hy een vir een huistoe totdat hy nou met sy ideale plaasvroutjie opeindig. Pragtig.

Snaaks genoeg wil ek hierdie jaar inskryf en dis presies wat ek gaan doen. Ja, ek weet wat die meeste mense se reaksie is. ‘Neeeeee, Jeanine! Dis nou desperaat. Jy weet dis ’n klug en die hele land gaan dit sien’. Ja, ek weet dit. Maar regtig? Ek verstaan nie dat mense gereeld gaan draf en hul eetgewoontes kan aanpas om hulle nuwejaarsvoornemens te hou nie, maar as dit by ‘dating’ kom dan sit hulle net agteroor en wag vir iets om te gebeur. Julle ken die ou sêding: jy kan nie die lotto wen as jy nie ’n kaartjie koop nie.

The scum of the dating world: The Players

It’s funny how life works. My last post explained the very reason it’s a good time to fall in love. Unfortunately, I spent my time since then consoling my friends as it seems everyone is breaking up.

I asked two of my friends for permission to share some of their experiences as I believe both of them have come into contact with that type of men that have a certain bad-boy allure that drives some women wild. They know how to make a woman feel special and really turn on the charm to get what they want. You know the type - we call them ‘players’.

It is really difficult to define a ‘player’. You will definitely not find a dictionary explanation. Some call them Pick-up-artists, Casanovas or even ‘dating predators’. In the simplest terms possible, I find good synonyms to be asshole, loser and jerk. You may have your own favourite terminology, of course, but the man himself is always the same.

The aim of a player is to win your affection and the mark that this has happened is often that the relationship becomes sexual – they have achieved their conquest. However, this is not always the case. Players these days are more cunning.

For me a player is so called because he is actively partaking in a game. Let’s say you have a rugby player who is partaking in the Super 15. He has to abide by certain rules, he needs to practice and above all the needs to know what the aim of the game is. The same is true for players in the dating world. They have certain rules by which they play. I’ve listed the most obvious ones and I’ve tried to make a few suggestions as to how you can spot whether he is following them…

'Tis the season to fall in love...

In the first quatrain of his 73rd sonnet, Shakespeare used autumn as a metaphor for aging

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

But in the face of deterioration and mortality, Shakespeare reminds us, love can not only endure, it can grow stronger.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long

Okay, so maybe you don’t like poetry that much. Maybe you hate it. Maybe you hate it as much as autumn. It is the time for colds and flu and feeling miserable. We are only now starting to approach the half way mark until the end of 2013 and the falling leaves inevitably remind us of the passing of things. It is in this time of year that people all around start feeling depressed. Some even suffer from a form of depression called seasonal affective disorder when the days shorten, the nights get longer and temperatures drop.

Well, Prof. Till Roenneberg, a chronobiologist at the Institute for Medical Psychology in Munich, knows that autumn totally bums people out. What is a chronobiologist? It’s the dude in the white coat that studies a specialized bundle of cells that regulates our cyclical processes or biological rhythms (brought on by example: seasonal changes) and how that affects our physiology and behaviour.

Roenneberg discovered that we bounce back from the cold autumn blues by seeking to create more warmth on the inside. We fight the autumn depression with… falling in love!

You are going to love this.