People-&-Social

Lists appear to have suddenly become the leitmotif of the few blogs I read. From Don Miller sharing his fiancee’s list to Esco imagining the All Nigerian Girl, to AnyaPosh, Miss Enigma, Sting and all the lasses doing that 30 day blogging thing, everyone appears to be sharing bits and pieces of lists. When I was much younger I was a big fan of lists - on everything from five year goals and plans, gadgets to buy to what I wanted in a spouse - complete with excel spreadsheets which calculated weighted averages across the various categories. The one thing I didn’t bargain for was that it would become a mechanistic check-the-box-or-check-out exercise - that happened - nor did I question the basis on which the items were identified, or if indeed I was at a time and place where I could expect those qualities from others. ...

Amidst the continuing babble of concerned friends, I may have hit upon my very own final solution. Granted it is decidedly more benign than the Nazi version, but as a strategy to buy myself much needed respite, it has worked like a charm. When asked awkward questions about being single when hanging out with the lads, my answer goes along the lines of being too busy, but declaring that I am very open to recommendations from so-called ‘knowledgeable others’. ...

My earliest memories of growing up are inextricably bound up with the dirty brown house on 4th street, brick red sand and Di, or MG as we would grow to know her in our adult years. It was the summer rainy season of 1988 and the sun in all its gory beastliness was baking us all, turning our days into long drawn out battles with boredom, exacerbated by excruciatingly boring teachers. Us boys lived for the bell, the harbinger of our short and long breaks, an all too brief salvation from studying. I was barely eight years old, but I was fast making a name for myself as a nerd; complete with very thick lenses, a voracious appetite for non-academic reading and an extreme love for solitude. The only physical activity I engaged in was the odd football kick abut where I was about as useful as a goal post. I often got sentenced to playing the goal keeper, where I was as much likely to play a wanton pass as concede a daft goal. It was an age where competition hadn’t become second nature to us though, so it wasn’t often that a gaffe was punished beyond the pitch. ...

There is no better incentive to reassess the landscape of one’s failed loves than watching re-runs of NCIS on TV on a Friday night. Something about being slouched in a lazy boy chair, empty bottles of beer to one side and the TV remote on the other, stands in marked contrast to what typical Friday nights are meant to be - maelstroms of revelry, getting hammered and possibly getting laid. ...

I wake up to the sounds of a quiet house. It has taken all of twenty four hours but finally my benumbed brain connects to reality. Last night, EJ and I split up officially. It was very amicable - no shouting, no crying, no theatrics - just two adults recognizing that the time to end our tenuous grip on each other and move on had come. It is a strange place to be. We’re still friends, we intend to keep the lines of communication open, but our nine months of being official have ended. Now that reality has hit, I feel like a large, gaping hole has been torn in my very existence. ...

I walked away- with your face stolen from a crowded room……….. Now you are on my skin, in my mouth - and hair as if you were always woven in my walk… Yusef Komunyakaa said it much better than I could ever say…

The following is an attempt to be coherent at 3.45am. If the logic is fuzzy, the imagery abstruse and the conclusions bother on the insane, blame it on reading Malcolm Gladwell into the wee hours of the morning! In response to my rant/ sobfest in March about losing my friend Di, LoloBloggs pointed me to a post in which she argued that the right girl, wrong time argument was merely an excuse to prime women up for the inevitable future break up. Whilst that may be true in some situations, in one of those not-so random brain waves, it crossed my mind that the rightness or wrongness of the argument was peripheral to the fact that it fit the observed data for a reason - it is pragmatic! A further thought was a what-if, what if there exists a third dimension that when coupled with the right person and the right time serves as a useful predictor of how likely a person-connection is likely to proceed beyond the realms of casual acquaintance-ship? I would like to suggest that that third dimension is that of context. ...

She popped up on my IM window today – the first time in months that she has. In an oddly unsettling way, it seems odd that she appeared. Odd becuase a mere few months ago, we were seemingly inseparable. I was caught in two minds - to buzz her or not… Truth is there was never any closure. All we had was a slow drifting apart as we each sought to focus more on our own things…. In theory, we are still normal – still friends, still confidants - the only difference from the days of a somewhat burgeoning friendship being the fact that life has happened, and squeezed the ‘thing’ I thought could grow into a dry lifeless crust. ...

I am all for defining my people connections upfront (DTRs) …… The thing about them though is that they are tricky……. Too soon, and you run the risk of permanently pulverizing some real bridges before they even get built…….. Too late, and you’re mired in the morass of the ‘just friends’ zone….. That night we had the inevitable talk and faced the ineluctable moment of truth….. Faced with a choice she said….. ...

You know you are a chronic bachelor when… People at more than two diners know you on a first name basis - clearly you have eaten out sooooo much that you are now an honorary share holder. The favorite inside joke among your friends is about how ’easy’ your wedding will be - no need to seriously chase a little bride or a little groom as friends daughters and sons will provide that. The scrawny little kid who used to run around naked in the streets, plastered with sand has now morphed into a delectable mid-twenties chic, and she pitches in once in a while about wanting to chop your cake! You get unsolicited email addresses and phone numbers from your peeps. They have decided to take matters into their hands by bombarding you with options. Your father jokingly reminds you of how he met, chased and eventually married your mother. Sadly that is about as subtle as HE can get! You get quizzed about any girl you are remotely associated with. Even the one who owes you money and only dropped by to negotiate the payment terms! The Uncle who has not spoken to you in aeons suddenly invites you over for a family vist three times in a month and takes you on a cruise to singles church. Mr sharp man uncle is trying to showcase your talents to the crouching wolves and hoping your bachelor tinted eyes will suddenly wake up. Your favorite aunt snatches her baby bag from you whilst you are trying to help pack up after a family night out. Her argument is that she doesn’t want anybody to think you are either married or a single father. You are suddenly analyzing the pros and cons of taking the chase online. When you and your friends meet up after long absences they eventually pop the question. ‘Soooooo, gist me, what has being happening to you’. Oh and they don’t mean work!