Aimee’s at It Again…

My blog is a relatively no-holds barred space.  I write about different things, and often from one extreme to the next.  I know that I have different readership, for which I am grateful, but I want to state, again, that I will not tolerate prejudice from those readers who disagree with the content of any of my posts – like the atheists about my religious/faith posts, or the Bible followers that disagree with my view on people like Aimee and her choices.  If you can’t respect that, then I’d rather have you unfollow me.

Thank you.

Now, if you’re still reading:

Read this post first, so that you have the background.

My exams are finally over.  *Happy dance*!  I got back from Cape Town on Friday afternoon, and was surprised to hear that Aimee was in town.  Obviously, we had to get together to catch up on what’s happened since our last visit, a fortnight shy of a year.

Poor woman.  She is totally fucked – in the physical sense of the word, but in the psychological realm too.  She’s not crazy (well, then again, she is in my inner circle, so maybe she is a bit touched), but mind-fucked.

A lot has gone down in the past year, which is the last time I saw her:

Junior got involved with a girl his own age and from what Aims tells me, he seems idyllically happy.  She seems okay about it, telling me that on the odd ocassion he’ll call, just to hear how she’s doing, which she appreciates, although he did tell her the other night that while he was in the shower, he thought to himself that he should phone her.  Hello?!  He’s involved with another chick, yet he thought about Aimee when there was steam surrounding his naked body while hot water was pounding his flesh.  Well, maybe it wasn’t just hot water…   In the back of her mind though, I think she knew even if they had got their groove on, it would have been short-lived.

Mr. Married Willy is also out of the picture.  I say, “Thank God!” even though she is devastated.  While all he initially wanted was the intellectual sex, they decided to meet in person a while ago, but he couldn’t get out of the house, “for fear of making my wife suspicious” and then again recently, but nothing came of it.  I said he got cold feet, she said he got a cold heart, which shriveled his dick and crumbled his spine.  I get her anger, but he is married, although I know better than to bring that up because it’s not what she needs-, nor wants to hear right now.

She tried to be brave when telling me of her disappointment, but I know she’s hurting.  I’m not sure if she was in love him, but she was curious, and with her vivid imagination, I think she had some kind of picture in her head of him getting a divorce, then having rip-roaring, sheet-tearing, chandelier-swinging sex with him, and possibly, some kind of future.  It’s a definite no-go after he made some shitty excuse about not being able to see her.  Snap!  That’s the sound of the little bit of frayed line that held whatever-it-was-they-had together.  I want to phone him and tear a strip off of him, but she’s put a leash on me, so she’s planning her own revenge.  She knows who his wife is, and it’s easy enough to get in touch with her on Facebook.  She has every last text message, and e-mail exchange of the almost two years they’ve been corresponding, and she has no qualms about forwarding them to his unsuspecting wife.  I can only hope she changes her mind because while he deserves to be miserable and alone, his children didn’t ask for this.

There’s no shortage of virile men around Aimee though.  Mr. Freak, now known as Mr. Hot Bunz is still in the picture, which surprises me, especially after her disconnection from the moment the last time and because Friends with Benefits is not her style; being a fuck-buddy, with the right guy is.  For those of you not sure what the difference is:

Friend with Benefits:  Person who is a friend, with whom you enjoy spending time, doing friend-stuff, but it may or may not end up with you doing the horizontal mambo.  When either one is in a relationship, then the benefits are forfeited.

Fuck Buddy: You both fuck each other senseless and then sleep in your respective homes.  There is nothing friend-like about the arrangement.  You’re basically carnal rabbits in a cosmic pheromone-filled warren. Synonym: Booty Call.

So, now that you have the nutshell meanings, Aims is the kind of girl that’ll hook up for the occasional one-night-stand, and if he has her coming like a garden hose, she might even enter into a fuck-buddy arrangement with him, but it will never involve doing ‘relationshippy’ things, like drinks at a fancy bar, walks on the beach or a movie-night, with pizza and wine, nor will it ever involve him/her spending the night.  It will be wanton sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

But it’s different with Mr. Hot Bunz and it’s messing with her head.  He’s become her friend and a confidante.  I’ll chalk the latter off to the fact that I live too far away for her to pop in for a heart-to-heart over a glass of good red.  She hooked up with him the same night Mr. Married Willy stood her up, and it blew her mind, but she feels guilty now.

“Oh. My. God!  Aims, you’re not…”

Yes, she’s in love with him, and she has made the epic mistake of telling him how she feels.  Kudos to him for not getting into his car and riding a million miles in the opposite direction, even more so when she may, or may not have told him in a hazy sleep-awake moment that she loved him, or someone else.  She knows she heard a loud, “What?” from a voice, but she’s not sure if it was his voice, or if she dreamt the whole thing.  If she did say it out loud, I hope it was that she loved him, because she’s already had one strike.  I also hope that if he is an actual knight in shining armour, that he will at least be open to something more, because while Aimee almost never has her shit together, she is a one in a million girl and when she’s in a committed relationship, she’s in it for keeps.  All she needs is a good guy to take a gamble on her.  I know if he does, he will have struck the biggest jackpot imaginable.

To balance things out, Aims finally stopped gushing about herself and Mr. Sexy Ass, just long enough to ask about how things are with my love life.

“Less complicated than yours”, was my response, which is the truth, but some days I wish I had her open mind, smoking hot body and happy-go-lucky (for the most part) attitude towards life and fiery rabbit-love.

I have a feeling too, that another year isn’t going to pass before I give you an update on Aimee’s Escapades, given that she is seeing Mr. Sexy Ass more often now.  So, ‘til next time…adios!

I.S – a repost from 2009

Lefty blogged yesterday that if it were up to him to decide which woman deserves the title of Sexiest Woman, it would be Salma Hayek. Personally, I too think she is gorgeous. R’s brothers girlfriend, N even looks a little like Ms Hayek herself.

So I got to thinking, what do I deem as sexy? There are many, but the one that springs to mind immediately is:

Intellectual Sex

Wit / chirping is extremely sexy. It’s flirtatious, fun and great to break the ice. I find being able to engage in what I like to refer to as “intellectual sex or IS”, makes the actual bedroom act so much more thrilling. Please note though, that “intellectual sex” is good, while a “mind fuck” isn’t always.

I have a mate Jerome, who lived in Cape Town who has the women dropping at his feet as if he were Adonis. And yes, while he is quite good looking, it’s the fact that he chirps them constantly that keeps getting them coming back for more – in more ways than one.

He and I actually became friends when he was eavesdropping on a conversation Eliabeth and I were having. I told him we weren’t talking to him, to which he replied, “Oh, I’m sorry, am I the only one in the restaurant you didn’t want hearing your discussion?” I blushed and stammered and well, nine years later, we are damn great friends.

Going Christmas shopping with him for his girlfriend’s Christmas present last year had the people in the store telling us we sound like an old, married couple – we thrive on this kind of feedback and well, honestly, to a point, get off on that banter. It doesn’t cross physical boundaries, and in well his case more than mine, we can leave each other’s company and know that the person we are going home with is going to enjoy what comes next.

How many of you enjoy I.S?

Every Now and Then…

…I read an article in a men’s mags, or an article about men in one of the female glossy ones.  Quite some time ago, I wrote this on my old blog in reply to an article entitled

41 Ways to Melt a Woman’s Heart

(Apologies for the tiny font, but I can’t figure out how to make it bigger and I have simply cut and pasted the original answers off my old blog.  Another related post will follow shortly.)

My comments to the original article are in blue.

I love reading articles from men’s mags, but with a woman’s brain…

Courtesy of

There are many things that make a woman weak at the knees. Now find out how to truly melt her heart…

Article: Nicole Beland from Men’s Health

Ask her to dance.

(I can actually relate to this – even if I don’twant to dance with some random man, it is nice to know he wanted to dance with me)

On windy days, brush wayward strands of hair from her eyes and mouth.

(It doesn’t even have to be a windy day – just play with my hair anyway…)

When she’s coming down the street, across the room, or up the stairs to meet you, walk towards her as soon as you see her.

(Absolutely couldn’t agree with this more – a woman should have to walk up to a man to be greeted.  When he sees her, he should hug or kiss her hello – everything else can wait for a few seconds)

Kiss her between her shoulder blades when she turns her back to you to go to sleep.

(Hmmm, this may leadto other activities, dependent on hormone levels…)

Put your arm around her when you introduce her to your friends and family.

(This does make us as women feel special – that we are allowed into the man’s space and it gives us a sense of security – in a “don’t-worry-darling-I’m-not-going-to-feed-you-to-the-wolves kind of way.)

Grasp her hand when a scantily dressed, beautiful woman walks by.
(Again, possibly a security thing…I quite honestly would probably comment on how hot or not said chick looks.)

Call her when you’re feeling sad.

(I have a guy-friend who does this sometimes – and even though I can hardly offer advice, we bothput down the phone feeling a little better about life.)

Kiss her eyelids.

(I don’t know so much about this one…rather kiss my forehead.)

Ask to see a picture of her when she was a child.

(I don’t know so much about this one either – simply because my parents weren’t the sentimental type, so there aren’t really photo’s of me as a child…maybe on FB somewhere, like school ones, but those are eeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkk!!)

Wash her from head to toe in the shower.

(See 4 above…)

If she’s crying on the phone, go over to her place. Immediately.

(The cynic in me is saying “first find out why she’s crying“, but yes…do.  She needs a shoulder and if she didn’t want yours, she would have phoned someone else.

Stand her naked on a sturdy chair and lick between her legs.

(This may do than just melt her heart…it may melt her resolve, and her insides…and…well, see 4 above)

Occasionally call her by her first and middle names.

(Middle name I can live with – first name usually means I’ve done something wrong – or that a man is losing interest in me.)

Buy her your favourite rock album of all time on vinyl.

(It is actually scary to think that I know what vinyl is.)

Order coffee for her, remembering exactly how she likes it

(or her favourite alcoholic beverage…and, if you’re involved with her – be able to make/pour it just the way she likes it.)

Undress her and put her to bed when she falls asleep in the car.

(and hang / fold her clothes up before turning in yourself)
Mention your upcoming anniversary before she does.
(It will show your commitment to the relationship – and will set you aside from the rest of the male homosapiens that cannot/do not want toremember dates)

Send her something in the mail. Anything.

(yyyeeeessssss!  We love to get parcels!)

When she’s feeling insecure, stare into her eyes and tell her there is no-one in the world who could be as right for you as she is.

(but, be sincere – otherwise she will resent you later if things don’t work out)

Call her just before you get on the plane.

(Yes, and preferably when you’ve arrived safely at your destination – you never know, Osama Bin Laden’s cronies may be on your flight)

Pick her clothes up off the floor.

(and do as for 16 above)

Try desperately to make her laugh when she’s feeling down.

(After all, it’s her smile you fell in love with, not her frown).

Take her to see your favourite sport live. Pay more attention to her than to the game.

(And shout for her team, even if your team is playing – and winning)

Touch her arm when you leave the table to go to the bathroom. Touch her again when you come back.

(Touch is sensual – and women thrive on that sensuality)

Shave just before you see her. She’ll notice.

(Women do notice this – the same way men notice whether or not we’ve shaved- or waxed our legs.)

Hug her when she gets jealous. Hug her hard.
(Again, be sincere.  You may also need to “hug her hard” to prevent her from scratching another woman’s eyes out!)

Worship her breasts.

(Preferably with offerings of whipped cream or chocolate body paint to be licked off hard…and, see 4 above).

Give her jewellery.

(We love things that sparkle…)

Hand her two towels when she gets out of the shower. (The second one is for her hair.)
(Learn this and you will score serious points – alternatively, dry her off yourself…)

Ask her specific questions about her work.

(I can attest to this – it is something special when a man asks me more than the superficial “so, what do you do for a living…”.)

Keep her favourite cereal on hand.

(If she is a cereal person – otherwise, make sure you have her favourite blend of coffee or tea on hand – and take it to her, in bed.)

In the middle of a conversation, tell her you love her.
(Yes, tell us – contrary to what you might think, women are not all clairvoyant.  We also like to hear you tell us you love us).

Send her very expensive flowers when you screw up.
(Really expensive constitutes more than a simple dozen roses.)

Take her to a cabin with a fireplace. Build her a fire.
(give her a glass of wine and make passionate love to her on a mat in front of that fire)

Moan her name when she goes down on you.

(yip, it does wonders for the sex goddess within us.)

Read her a story when it’s her turn to drive during a long road trip.

(or when she’s lying next to you in bed)

Offer to fix something at her place that you realise is broken.

(don’t wait until she asks…because if you do, she may actually just ask that really gorgeous single hunk that lives next door.)

Notice when she’s wearing something new.

(don’t just notice…say something about the new outfit – and note, the new outfit includes shoes)

  1. Make love to her standing up, against a wall.
    (Yes!  Or, stop the lift and make your own Fatal Attractionscene…)

Kiss her hand in front of your most die-hard bachelor buddies.

(A kiss on the hand may be quite continental…but diamonds are a girl’s best friend…)

If she’s too stressed to want sex…

a. Run a bath for her.
b. Give her a full-body massage.
c. Ask if she wants to wrestle.
(she doesn’t need to be too stressed to want sex for you to these things – a little thought can lead to great rewards).

This is Your Captain Speaking

Yes, that’s right.  Yours Truly has been nominated as the Office Ladies’ Soccer Captain.  So I guess that would make me Captain MTM.  In an attempt to build some team spirit between the different departments around the farm, it was decided by the Powers that Be to host a Ladies’ Lunch Time Soccer Game next Thursday.  By some autocratic decision I was made Captain of a team consisting of all the office ladies (there are squeals about broken nails and having to tie up their hair), the older generation of the harvesting ladies and some packhouse ladies.  Everyone is already laughing, so the team spirit is already on the up and up. 

Our team is playing the much-stronger Field side, so it is a given that we are going to get annihilated – without a shadow of a doubt, but what we lack in skill, we make up for in dedication and creativity.  Sandra said she thinks we should come dressed totally wacky (she is thinking shorts, long socks and a ballerina’s tutu).  I told every one on my team I want a suggestion of a name for a team name, as well as team colours.  In the democracy that is my office, I will chuck all the suggestions in a hat and get one of the gents to select the “winning combination”.

One of my team members, Evangeline sent me a mail asking, “Captain, what exactly does a midfielder do?”

My reply was quite simply, “Kick the ball and hope to hell nobody trips you.”

Last weekend’s Halloween party was a blast.  Liza and Elizabeth really went to a great deal of trouble and fun was had by all.  !

The following people attended:

Rachel and Kyle, dressed as a witch and Frankenstein

Philip (Elizabeth’s brother), dressed as Captain Hooker, the gay pirate.

Roger, dressed as a very blond John Lennon

Mary-Ann, dressed as a witch

Liza dressed as Liewe Heksie

and her other half, Keith, as the Devil

Elizabeth, dressed as Casper the Friendly Ghost.  She had a head-piece too, but the designer cut a square piece (instead of two round holes) for her eyes, so she left it at home because she thought she resembled the Klu Klux Klan.

Andrea and Mike (Elizabeth’s sister and her boyfriend), dressed as Miss Kienie (translated to be Maybe Not) and a nameless boxer (I loved the shiner!).

Imi and Zane (Elizabeth’s other sister and her boyfriend), dressed as they were, with masks to cover their faces – they hadn’t planned to come to the party, but at the last minute decided they would.

Emilynn, dressed as a (very convincing) zombie

and last, but not least, Yours Truly as a vampire

We took a drive through town on the back of Keith’s van through town.  We got some interesting reactions.  I nearly lost my teeth a couple of times.  Emilynn, seriously in the spirit of scary spookiness walked up to an unsuspecting couple necking in the car, knocked on their window and scared them – to such an extent that the gent lit up a cigarette, started the car and drove off.  It was SO funny!  Here are some group photos we took:

Andrea and Mike baked a cake, perfectly suited to the theme.  The spider was made out of a Whisper, a piece of a Bar One and a Sweetie Pie.  The spider web was liquorice.  I thought it extremely creative.

On the quandry – I’m still in two minds about what to do…it’s been a very long time, so what’s another couple of days?  I’m sure he knows how I feel – he can’t possibly not, given the interaction and hints I have been dropping through the years, but part of me can’t help wondering if I actually tell him, that it might change things. 

Mom had the idea of going out for dinner, but I’m still at work so it remains to be seen if that will indeed materialize.  Some days I really hate this place…

The Past Fortnight in a Single Blog Entry

I haven’t blogged for ages! Work is keeping me busy, as usual, and with the writing course thrown into the mix, there isn’t much time for me to do much else, BUT I did finally take some time out this past fortnight to let my hair down a bit.  I am going to really try to blog at least twice a week, and then hopefully daily as I used to because it is imperative for me to exercise my writing muscles.

Anyhow, about letting my hair down…

Many of you already know this, but for those of you who don’t, I still live with parents, I’m still single – longing to be attached – and I’m constantly reminded by a number of people around me that they can hear my biological clock ticking – catch twenty two there as well, because it’s not like I don’t want to experience the joys of sex (casual or otherwise), but my mother will not (and bear in mind I’m already thirty one!) allow me to share a bed with any man under her roof, and I’m made to feel quite guilty for going out when Dad is working away, so I don’t get to meet anyone for a casual quickie at his place either.

I have a guy-friend (who is turning into a Friend With Benefits (FWB) – note not a Fuck Buddy (FB) (there is a difference) who I invite around when the folks go away, and it helps to release the tension, but it’s not really what I want (and I don’t think he does either, if he’s honest.) We both love each other on some level, but we also both know that a relationship will never work between us.

Okay, so before I go on, maybe some of you would like to know what the difference is between a FWB and FB. It’s simple really. A FWB is someone you can go out with, to movies, dancing, whatever…without it necessarily ending up with the two of you in bed. If it does end with a session of rumpy-pumpy (I hope you don’t mind me using your catch phrase Only Cin)( ), then the FWB is usually still there in the morning to share a cup of coffee (and if time allows, breakfast too). A FB on the other hand is someone you call to release sexual tension with, and who is not interested to wake up with you the next morning.

Oddly enough, this person who is turning into a FWB has been in my life for over a decade already, and despite a number of occasions that things have got a little heated between us, he only kissed me for the first time a little over a year and a half ago. It rocked my world, but it also left with some unanswered questions. I will often tell him when I’m ringing off a telephone conversation, “Okay, love you, bye”, to which his reply has always been, “me too…” I have never expected to hear those three words from him. Ever.

So, Mom and Dad were away for a few days and he came over and after a little too much wine we ended up in bed and things got very hot and steamy.  It was fantastic!  In the aftermath of the awesomeness, I was lying on his shoulder when he said, “I love you.  You know that don’t you?” I was too stunned to say anything, so I pretended to be asleep.  Some of you are probably thinking, “they’re obviously really good, if not best friends, they love each other, so why not give a relationship a fair chance?” The answer is simple – I love him.  He loves me.  BUT he also loves many other women, can’t hold down a job, has a bit of a drinking problem and a number of other personal issues which it wouldn’t be fair of me to mention on my blog.

Anyhow, back to the awesomeness…while things have got hot and steamy between us in the past, this was the first time we’d actually opted for a full out home-run game.  It was carnally passionate, yet so tender.  It felt so right because it was so good, but  it also left me stressing for the past week, because my period was late, but it eventually did arrive on Friday, so I’m not pregnant.  What a relief!

This past Friday night I went over to Elizabeth’s house for a braai – to celebrate her brother, Patrick’s 33rd birthday (and finally being assured of NOT being pregnant).  A braai at their place is always fun, but this particular one wasn’t just fun…it was GREAT fun.  But, with great fun usually comes a great hangover the next day, or in my case, a sore ankle.  I know that at some stage, in an attempt to be captured on camera for a group photo (which was set on the self timer), I made a dash across the verandah, slipped and fell on my bum!  Note, my bum, NOT my ankle.  Patrick’s colleague, Roger was also there and apparently Roger is rather taken with Yours Truly.  In fact, he thinks I’m rather fetching (yes, that is the word he used).  I will admit, I’m flattered, so I’ve given Patrick the okay to give Roger my number.  I am in no way saying that anything more than friends is going to develop, but I’m being open-minded about it.  He is younger than I am (which, if anything did develop, would be a first for me, because I generally prefer older men), but he seems mature for his age (a mere twenty-four), and a gentleman too.

Right, that may leave some of you asking “what about Jake the Pilot or Mark the DJ?” In a nutshell, Jake and I are no longer in contact.  I’m not going to go into the reason why, but suffice to say, it is a sensitive issue.  As for Mark, we still exchange the odd text message, but there will be no romance there – he’s just not that into me…it took me a while to realize it, but I’m actually okay with it. 

On other fronts:

I emailed my second assignment for my novel-writing course to my tutor last week and received an 82.4% result!  I was very happy about it.  I have received the third module already and will begin working on it this week. 

Work is still hectic, with various farm audits coming up this month.  I have been swamped with paperwork and then a certain retail chain that we pack for gave us 48 hours notice of their audit of us, which had me running around like a mad person, but everything that needs to be in place is, so I know it will go swimmingly.

Mom took Elizabeth, Aunty Carol and Uncle Barry and I out for lunch today and on our way home we stopped at a local antiques place where Mom bought me a beautiful pair of amethyst and marcasite earrings.  They are absolutely gorgeous.   Perfect for a first date…

Creative Writing: Secrets (PG 18)

This is a repost of a Creative Writing Challenge I took part in during 2008.

I say, “I have a secret.” Immediately each one of you reading this post will think, “don’t we all?” As it is a secret, it is not meant to be told, so sorry to disappoint you, my lips are sealed, but, seeing as I really want to take part in the challenge, I found a picture on the ‘Net to inspire me.  The piece is partly fact, partly fiction…

(Image courtesy of:

Locked away in the deep recesses of my mind, I have a secret. A lustful secret…

I’ve known you for what feels like forever, yet, I looked at you the other day and it was like I was seeing you for the first time. The need I felt for you at that specific moment was so carnal, so urgent, so totally uninhibited, that I could feel the dripping wetness between my legs.

I don’t know what came over me, but right then and there, I wanted to tear your shirt off ’til the buttons shot in different directions…

To kiss you with the passion that for so long I have unwittingly harboured for someone else. To taste your sensual lips. To feel your heat in my mouth. I wanted to lick each contour of your well-honed torso…to trace each crevice with my expeditional tongue.

When I got to your belt I would stop… Make you watch as I slowly peeled off my top to reveal my pert, hard nipples, lick my fingers and slowly tease them myself, before lowering them into your waiting mouth.

The mere thoughts of your strong masculine hands cupping my breasts in your hand, then taking them into your warm mouth was enough to turn the dripping wetness into a gush.

Once I had your belt undone, I would tie both your hands above your head, to the bed with it, leaving you with just enough leverage to watch how I would undo your well-fitting jeans, slowly peel them off with a glint in my eye, and do the same with mine. I would take a few stolen moments to entertain my secret desire to bring a third person into the mix, then proceed to teasing the pulsing bulge between your athletic thighs with my hungry tongue, before taking your full manhood into my mouth, pleasing to like that until you are on the brink of exploding. Then again, I would stop…

…slowly untie your arms and let you do to me exactly what I need you to do, what I want you to do, what I want you to want to. Even though you know me as a gentle soul, the passion you will have experienced since this encounter began will tell you that I don’t mind it rough. Then, just as I am about to come, I will take you inside me and an earth-shattering orgasm will unite us.

I know though that this will only remain a secret fantasy in my lustful mind, because you are a Man of the Cloth, married to someone I hold in high regard.


Miley Cyrus sings a song called G.N.O, which is the apparent acronym for Girls’ Night Out. Ironically enough there is nothing in the lyrics of the song about the sleep-deprivation-hangover that usually follows – especially if one is on a G.N.O. with Rachel, although honestly, this wasn’t a planned G.N.O. It just turned out that way…

The past week I’ve mentioned our plans to go dancing…well, the evening started out disasterously slow, thanks to the rugby team we support, the Stormers, losing the Super 14 title to the Blue Bulls.

She pitched up just after 19:30, armed with her ever-trusty Russell Hobbs straightener and tamed my unruly mane into a sleek do that would qualify me for a Pantene hair commercial instantly.

We headed off to the club where we had agreed, and reconfirmed with our friends the previous day to meet us. Well, neither Warren, Aaron, nor Edith and her boyfriend pitched up. We eventually popped onto our other local haunt thinking that they may have misunderstood us, but they too weren’t there. We opted for a drive through town and eventually, like stalkers, drove past the others’ houses – only to discover zero activity. This led us to think that they may have overindulged during the rigorous exercise of rugby-team-support. That still left us without partners to dance – and while we’re generally not shy to ask the single men to dance, there were just too many strange creatures out last night.

But…as always, Rachel had a contingency plan. Yip, the proverbial plan B. She phoned a chap she had met through work, Mark, who DJ’s at a well known place about 25 Km’s from town. He told us to hop in the car and meet him there – he would see to zero cover charge (yay, considering we’d already paid to go into both the other places and not really had any kind of value for money).

We arrived and immediately a young, student like chap leapt out of the DJ box to bid us hello – turns out he is Mark’s sidekick-of-sorts, Fred. He directed us to Mark’s den and Rachel did the necessary introductions. I have good fun with her when she introduces me to her Afrikaans guy-mates, because I always give them a blank stare when they tell me “aangename kennis” (translated: pleasure to meet you), and she proceeds to tell them I’m English and immediately they hear “British” and for a while, the game will carry on while I eavesdrop on the coversation and get a feeling for what the guy is actually like.

Fred wanted to dance with Rachel, but Mark jumped the queue and so I danced with Fred, who by this time had realized I was fully bilingual, but I asked him not to let the cat out of the bag quite just yet, because I was quite enjoying this little charade. He told me the fact that I can langarm (paired dancing as it is referred to here in South Africa) was a dead giveaway. I told him to remember I have apparently visited South Africa a number of times and that is the reason why I can langarm with the best of the boere (Afrikaner nation). He also told me that Rachel has something…because Mark hasn’t danced with anyone in about four months. Ironically enough, Mark isn’t really her cup of tea, and definitely mine.  He has graying temples, ice-blue eyes and he smells absolutely amazing.  Quite edible, in fact.

At last Mark asked me to dance, and it was magic. He dances quite well, although I must admit he tends to hold quite tight around the waist. And eventually it happened…he asked, “Is jy van Engeland?” to which I gave no obvious reply, and he backtracked, “so, are you from England?” I let us a roaring laugh and answered him in his mother tongue (with no evident accent) and he was stunned. He didn’t mind having the joke on him, because he was going to pay back the favour quite soon. Rachel and I both got to dance with a few other singles and then alas, the club shut its doors at midnight. And no, it’s not called the Cinderella Club…

Now fueled by our itchy feet, we told Mark we were heading off to George (even further from our originally planned club) to continue there. He told us that he would meet us there (as he lives in George). Gentlemanly enough, he drove with us all the way and then made (what we thought to be) a dodgy detour, so we went the regular route. We got to the club, which was packed and waited and waited, but no Mark…yet. Rachel tried to call him, but got the tin-voice instead. After about 15 minutes, she tried again, this time only to get ringing upon ringing, so she sent him a text wanting to know where he was. By the time we left the club this morning at 04:30, it still hadn’t been delivered.

A guy, kitted out very proudly in his Blue Bulls shirt started chatting to Rachel like they were old friends, so I assumed they were. Turns out she didn’t know him from Joe Soap, but he spent the whole evening with us chatting and dancing. He even warded off some more-scary-than-the-first-clubs-creatures. He told us his name was Patrick, but his somewhat inebriated friend divulged his secret telling us his name is Kyle. As I happened to glance over to the bar, I saw Mark, with some doll-faced girl. Immediately Rachel and I were both quite unamused, but we held our cool. I headed off to the powder room and upon my return Rachel tells me, “he had the audacity to introduce me to her. Her name is Linda.” I was equally hacked off, but for different reasons, obviously. As the night progressed Kyle and Rachel became more comfortable with each other and Mark and Linda were in my constant line of vision…

Just after 2 AM, Jessie James (the link is from my old blog) walked into the club, gave me a huge hug and we did some very-quick catching-up. I went to the powder room again, only to run into Mark, two drinks in hand, so I said, “fancy seeing you here. You’re an alcoholic in the making if you’re drinking two drinks at the same time.” He kind of fumbled his reply, “the one is for the girl I’m dancing with.” I told him he owed me dance and again, like an angel out of Heaven, Jessie was there. I excused myself from Mark (clean forgetting about my need to visit the loo), walked up to Jessie, interlocked his fingers with mine and gave him a decent kiss. He knew something was amiss, so he played along. Mark never did actually approach me at the table we were sitting for a dance. I walked Jessie out to his car (he’s working this morning) but eventually when Rachel and I went to go and have a loose dance, Mark grabbed me for a dance, and she wondered off back to Kyle. Mark tried to make polite conversation while we were dancing asking how long I’ve known Rachel. When I told him I’ve known her since primary school, he changed the subject to enquire as to if I know how they met. I say she told me that it was through work, and he says, yes, through the wonder of the internet. Rachel and I kind of pieced the pieces together in the car on the way home this morning. All the emailing back and forth for work is how they met on the internet.

After he had finished dancing with me he asked Rachel for another and then while they were dancing, asked her if they could get together for coffee. Audacity seems something he does have quite a bit of, doesn’t it. As she still has to do work for him, she couldn’t be downright rude, so declined politely stating that she already had plans. When we looked again, he and Linda were gone.

We eventually left when the club at 04:30 when it closed and Kyle walked us to the car. He asked her for her number, and as is our policy, she told him she doesn’t give her number out, but he’s welcome to give her his. So he took the phone out of her hand, keyed in his number, and then, very slyly missed called his phone from hers. It is very apparent that Kyle is very taken with Rachel. Seems Fred was right – she does have something…