Posts Tagged ‘love

07
Aug
14

Tuesday

2014-07-21 22.12.24 I had to make a tough decision today. When J-Rab and I left South Africa, she took The Cub with her to Boston for two and a half weeks while I focussed on finding a job and a place for us to live in London.

Time slipped away and before I knew it, the two and a half weeks were almost up and I’d found nothing, so we paid to have J-Rab’s return ticket postponed for another two weeks, making her return date this Friday.

Problem is, despite countless meetings, interviews, positive conversations and optimistic recruiters, after a full month of being here I still have nothing.

19
Oct
12

To J-Rab On Our Five Year Anniversary

IMG_2267Ain’t it funny babe? The way every time I write one of these I make all these promises of how stinking rich I’ll be one day and how much I’ll spoil you on our anniversary and then the next one rolls around and I’m still pretty much broke?

Thank Christ you’re not with me for the money. It’s always been a source of great happiness for me that you’re not one of those girls.

The ones obsessed with material bullshit. Obsessed with shopping and girly pop music and puke-worthy rom coms and things that are pink.

It’s always been a great source of happiness for me that above everything, you are real.

23
Mar
11

Clifton Second and The Douche Parade

Monday was sick, not only because it was a public holiday, but also because we managed to get our shit together and head to the beach for what turned out to be a glorious day in the sun, sneaking red wine when no one was looking and laying in the sun, staring at the big beautiful blue sky.

We chose a spot right at the back of second beach and set up base camp, right behind some pretty innocuous looking green towels, nothing special going on there.

Then, about 15 minutes later the owners of the towels came back and turned out to be the second and third most gorgeous women on the beach (after J-Rab of course – BOOYA!).

03
Dec
09

Short Story: Summer Love

Summer Love

Once in a while, her face would slide off, and for the briefest, most terrifying of moments, I would be able to see her real head.

She did it right at the end of it all, on the last morning that we were together. Returning home from where ever it was that she had spent the night, I met her just outside the front door and told her that she had broken my heart.

I forget how exactly the conversation progressed, but eventually I found it necessary to threaten her, so I informed her of the fact that unlike the other spineless men she surrounded herself with, I wouldn’t be strung around like her personal yo-yo.

30
Nov
09

A post on unrequited love

While I was thinking what to write for today’s post, my mind dug up one of my favourite quotes from one of my favourite authors, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

The quote’s from one of his novellas called Memories of my Melancholy Whores. I read it about four years ago because my boss at the time bought it at a CNA before we boarded a flight to Cape Town.

 

 

The guy was really fucked up in a lot of ways, but was also a lot of fun. He basically only read books that had some kind of smutty angle and so bought the Marquez book based purely on its title.