So, we found a wallet at work today. Dropped under the seat in the waiting room by an elderly patient.
I suggested we open the wallet, check the driver’s id and cross-reference it to the patient list so we could ring the person.
I was accused of:
- Being nosy.
- Invading people’s privacy.
- Being rude.
- Being “young”.
- Being too impulsive.
Are you serious? I mean, what the heck?
What are you supposed to do?????? (Angry question marks!) Have I been breaking some major wallet etiquette all my adult life? Can you imagine losing your wallet and never finding it because some total numpty refused to open it in order to protect your “privacy”.
I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE. FUCK THAT NOISE GENTLY WITH A CHAINSAW.
The ludicrous thing was that I was the only person in a room of 5 that thought this was odd. Then they spent 30 minutes alternating between berating me and condescending to me.
I’m shocked, shocked I tell you, that the roof did not lift clean off with the force of my eye rolls.
I’ve posted before about how Mr Sleep and Salami and I met, but I’ve never posted about our very first “adult” date.
We decided to get together, have some dinner and hang out in the spa. We were both still living at home at the time and he was expecting people to be out.
As it turned out, his step-father was very ill that evening so we were asked to avoid using the spa bath as it was right next to his bedroom and he needed some rest. Not put off in the least, he picked me up, we grabbed some wine and settled in with some dinner and a movie. I was so nervous!
I don’t drink very much, but I thought a glass or two wouldn’t go amiss – I ended up not drinking any wine at all. Unfortunately, he was so nervous that he managed to drink all the wine. Both bottles.
So for our first date, there we were watching Karate Kid and making awkward, jittery conversation.
Ahhhh, romance – you’re all jealous, I know it.
I didn’t realise how much he was drinking until he he stood up and tried to recreate a fight scene 🙂 Now, over the years it has become apparent that he just cannot do a reproduction crane kick like I can (Hiiii-yaaaah!), but he tried. With the glass of wine and his mum’s china cabinet on the receiving end. At that moment, I looked down to find the second bottle of wine was almost empty…
I started to wonder how I was supposed to be getting home if he was driving me? Forethought was not a strong point for either of us back then. We’re better now, I swear (Swearsies. No matter what you heard, it’s all lies).
After about another 5 minutes, he started to go quiet – I thought he might be falling asleep – when suddenly he stood up, managing to be both wobbly and nonchalant, and just casually sidled out the balcony door, shutting it quietly behind him.
I just sat there, slightly embarrassed, confused and no longer concentrating on the movie. This balcony was tiny and lead nowhere so it’s not like he was going anywhere, checking out the non-existent view or fetching something.
After about 5 minutes I ventured outside to find him spewing sheepishly and unattractively all over the garage roof. I realised then that I would need to call a taxi (too cheap) or stay over (I felt safe enough).
So I stayed, he slept the deep sleep of the intoxicated and the rest is, as they cheesily say, history.
I have lived in the city all my life. I love the countryside, love the big views, the clear starry nights but there’s something about the city that will always appeal to me.
When I was younger and living at home (high school!) I was consistently driven around by my parents. Johannesburg was not considered safe by them and public transport was not an option for me. I travelled quite a bit, and experienced other cities in my teens, took public transport there, but the city I called home was strictly a driven experience for me.
Eight days before my 18th birthday I moved to New Zealand to spend time with my brother, to go to university and (I thought) to finally start living!
On my very first day there, my brother drove me to the city centre (Queen St) and dropped me off to spend the day looking around while he was at work. I don’t remember many details about this day, but two things stand out in my memory.
It was the first day that I felt like I was no longer a child (how wrong that turned out to be!) and there was a moment when I looked out into the street and realised that that was exactly where I was meant to be. I was in the right place, at the right time.The view I had at that moment was from this exact angle, from Albert Park looking down onto the Victoria and Queen intersection:
I went on to live on that street for a few years, which was just a spectacular time.
I’ve realised, in my subsequent travels, that I feel that way in every large city. I used to think it was just an Auckland thing but while I love the place, it turns out I’m geographically promiscuous. My relationships with the cities I’m in thrive even if only for a few days. The feeling is the same in each one, for a few seconds, sometimes more, I look around and feel a conflicting sense of excitement (almost nerves) and a sense of peace. Sydney, Krakow, NYC, Washington DC, London, Lisboa – they’ve all done it for me at one time or another.
I’m hoping that in the next couple of years we can manage a major move overseas into a big, big city. There are commitments that need to be fulfilled here, but in 18 months I want to be across the world with butterflies in my tummy as I look up at the huge buildings and make another city my mistress. I want to get all my senses going, I want to laugh, cry and love somewhere completely different.
I’m sorry, Auckland, but just the thought of a different concrete jungle is getting me all excited to leave you. I can’t stop googling the place I want to go. I can’t stop talking about it.
It’s going to be a hard break up, but one day I’ll come back. You’ll be different but you’ll be just the same.
I’m not sure what I’ll be but I know what feeling I’ll get when I see you again – that won’t change.
Day 05 — This is embarrassing but on average I cause the toilet to overflow about this many times a year because of deposits I made…
I haven’t been looking forward to this quesion very much, this is mortifying, but I’m going to be honest. This doesn’t happen to me, but it has on one occasion and it was the most embarrassing experience ever. Ever. I have two “most embarrassing experiences” and this one is right up there.
I was a young, impressionable (I thought) lady in a fledgling relationship with a gentleman who had no awareness of my bodily functions (Women don’t poop! Or sweat (they glooooooow)! Or fart (they’re love puffs, I swear)!).
I was forced one day (after much panicking, hand wringing and agonising) to go fetch said gentleman and admit that I had blocked his parents’ loo and flooded their bathroom.
His whole family got involved in the subsequent unblocking and cleaning. I had to stand there while his dad wrapped his hand in plastic and got right in there.
I’m going to stop there because I actually can’t talk about it anymore. I’m cringing too much.
“A blogger friend I’ve known for over five years told me she has been blogging anonymously all t his time and most of what I know about her is her fantasy. My reaction to the news is…”
Obviously, as I’m new to this blogging thing, this isn’t a viable scenario for me for another four years and nine months! I’ve had to think long and hard about my personality and how I think.
I’d be so utterly confused. My emotions would probably ran the gamut, from surprised to horrified to curious. I know what I’m like, I think I’d go back and probably read through any correspondence, check any comments go through her archives and try and determine what has shades of truth to it and what is a fantasy.Whether the facts were lies but the opinions were truth – that would make a big difference to me.
Then I’d start grilling her (WAIT! IS IT A HER??? Or have a been commiserating with Barry from Long Island who still lives in his mum’s basement? (Not that there’s anything wrong with that life choice.)).
I’d want to know why she wanted to be different, whether her real life was something she wanted to hide or escape from or whether the fantasy just complimented it.
Most importantly, I’d want to know 5 years worth of real stuff! I’d want to know as much as they’d let me about their lives so that I could make up my mind again about the online friendship.
I know what I’m like – I couldn’t cut them out or anything like that – but there’d definitely be a shift in the dynamic, you know, to me hounding them with questions about what was real and what wasn’t.
Day 03 — Regardless of my current status, do I believe a person should save themselves for marriage…
I’m writing this for the second time because WordPress is playing with my head and losing my posts.
I come from a strictly Catholic family. It was difficult, and very hurtful, for my parents when 5 years ago I opted to LIVE IN SIN with my boyfriend instead of getting married.
That’s what they saw in my future. That’s what they still see, but whatever.
My parents forgave us, and we managed to move past it all. Years later I don’t regret a thing. I’m living the way I want to live with a man I adore – who I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with. If we weren’t still together, though, I wouldn’t regret what I opted to do.
For some people it’s an easier question – try before you buy – and I think that’s a valid choice. It’s not up to me to judge, and I do tend to think that the No Sex Before Marriage movement can encourage children to make a permanent move when they are horny and inexperienced which they may regret later. Marrying the wrong guy at 18 because you don’t see another choice can lead to pain and suffering later on – no matter what your religious beliefs, I’m not sure that’s what God had in mind for the sanctity of marriage.
He told me if I wasn’t ready by 6:55 this morning he would leave me behind to take the train. So I raced through everything, slammed the door behind me and was in the car starting it by 6:50, backing angrily out of the driveway while he rushed to keep up.
He said I totally would have said the same thing.
I ended up leaving my phone at home.
That’s what I get for being an asshole.