Signatures later

My track record with the woman of this world is definitely deserved of a small piece of literary history. The last part of the statement might sound a bit arrogant but I am a firm believer that I am not fully appreciated in my time. I will one day be mentioned with the likes of Charles Dickens and The Eiffel Tower.

Approach this piece as a collection of short stories. This piece will not discuss all of my romantic endeavors due to pending lawsuits.

Primary School

E

It all started wrong. I was 12 and she was the friend of the girl I actually liked, so I asked her out. It was my first encounter with the world of subtle plays and complex manipulation that is dating.

It lasted two weeks and heightened her social standing by at least eight points. For those unfamiliar with the social standing points system, or SSPS, eight points is equivalent to having dumped Paris Hilton or being seen with Nelson Mandela at a sushi bar.

D

The next love was a year later, she was new to the school. Our year group went on a camping trip. I asked her out, we dated and two days later she left me for one of my friends. She later got a breast augmentation and he got to see her new devices.

I did not know what to do with the hate boiling within and so joined the school chess club.

Secondary School

J

We frequently vacationed in Zimbabwe before the Mugabe era. There was a girl who lived with her mother on the lodge where we stayed. You know the rest, we had trips on a quad, fled from a flock of tigers and listened to The Offspring.

She was my first kiss, my longest relationship and she had a bikini. The building blocks of some of the great romances of our time. We did the long distance thing but after a while broke up due to the complication of border crossing and heat stroke.

J

My next love was a girl that sat in front of me in grade nine Afrikaans. She had a cute nose, thick dark hair and had really good dress sense. Some time passed and I sent her an email declaring my undying love which did not go down the way I had imagined. Instead of appearing at my door in a cute dress with Bryan Adams’ Run to You in the background she changed her email address.

The crush extended for a couple of years till I realized my best friend had been dating her without me knowing. His family were undoubtedly richer than we were and his looks was somewhat more socially acceptable than mine. I felt beaten and considered plastic surgery but then remembered I had gone through to the second round of our school’s grade two body builder competition.

I was again faced with hate that I did not know how to channel so I auditioned for the choir, where I was laughed at. I moved on and began my foray into weekends of playing Counter-Strike.

University

G

The University era had begun with a first years camping trip. The second evening a girl appeared in our doorway, drenched with rain and looking all kinds of pretty. I increased the charm to 75% resulting in us clicking. The last evening we stayed up together laughing at the steam emanating from one of my friend’s back and funny things I said, of which there was a lot.

The next day I was informed of her current relationship with a national cricketing hero (referred from here on in as XY). I again had the urge to declare my love. I knitted a scarf which I gave to her with the words “I am giving you the chance to choose me over XY”. She declined and started crying. I still don’t know if she cried due to my declaration of love or my impressive knitting skills.

XY proved to be a cheat and I unknowingly filled the role of the gay friend. A role which I had since played more often than not. My receding hairline and excessively hairy arms made woman at ease in conversation for some strange reason. (read Bald is the new Beautiful for my take on this)

T

During the time of G I met a girl with the most incredible insight. I am sure of this because she found me attractive and funny. We dated and broke up inside three weeks. My mother said it was my dislike in horses combined with her parents having a farm that caused the rift in our relationship.

She is getting married soon and I haven’t received an invitation. I know it is not due to my body odour as I consume my  own body weight in antiperspirant on a weekly basis.

E

My next appearance on the stage of hormonally driven affection was with a British girl two or three years my biological senior. She was the kind of pretty that did not stop growing on you. We took a ride on a camel and I saw her underwear. I did not see the underwear while she wore it, I saw it in the heap of laundry on her bed when I went to pick her up.

We went out to celebrate her birthday one evening and while sitting next to me she touched my raccoon. I nearly fainted and she told me she did it because I make a funny face when placed in awkward situations. I reacted by placing my hand on her knee while asking her “what do you think about this?” she replied with a “higher” and I, in my best Jennifer Aniston accent, asked her again “what do you think about this?”.

A while later she returned to England and I was faced with the what ifs. We never even kissed, which to me is the same as forgetting to laugh after having accidentally produced a number two in somebody’s shoes.

Final Words

Although I have not mentioned all of my journeys with summer dressed, flower smelling, butterfly inducing woman, this should provide sufficient background to those confounded by my romantic maturity.

It is obvious that this piece is in no way finished and that my fascinating journey with woman will result in a book deal, a Huisgenoot wedding and Oprah appearances.