No, Favourite Man - you can't.
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Movember
'Movember (a portmanteau of the words 'Moustache' and 'November') is an annual month-long event involving the growing of moustaches during the month of November.'
No, Favourite Man - you can't.
No, Favourite Man - you can't.
Miracle Hair
How does he do it???
There's a bloke here at work that sports a constant unshaven look. His facial hair is ALWAYS at exactly the same length - sorta "got out of bed yesterday and haven't slept since" length, which I guess is about the right length for a hard-working geek. And that is what he is.
But hair grows. I've never seen him clean-shaven, and I've never seen him sporting a full-on beard. So either his hair grows extremely fast - as in, it's long by the time he gets to work - or he has some other method going.
Maybe he just needs a new razor..?
There's a bloke here at work that sports a constant unshaven look. His facial hair is ALWAYS at exactly the same length - sorta "got out of bed yesterday and haven't slept since" length, which I guess is about the right length for a hard-working geek. And that is what he is.
But hair grows. I've never seen him clean-shaven, and I've never seen him sporting a full-on beard. So either his hair grows extremely fast - as in, it's long by the time he gets to work - or he has some other method going.
Maybe he just needs a new razor..?
Credit where credit is due
Favourite Man is not your average bloke. He does dishes, laundry and cooking. While still remaining completely manly, of course! :-)
And yesterday he took it upon himself to gather a family meeting in the bathroom, and instruct the child in the fine art of toilet roll changing.
Namely:
Unfortunately my son coasts through life. He's bone-lazy, expects everything handed to him on a platter and throws a hissy-fit when it doesn't happen (is that normal teen behaviour or a portent of disaster?). He knows perfectly well how to change a toilet roll - he simply doesn't do it.
I guess the toilet roll is simply the tip of the paper-trail....
And yesterday he took it upon himself to gather a family meeting in the bathroom, and instruct the child in the fine art of toilet roll changing.
Namely:
- Open bathroom cabinet door
- Remove roll
- Start roll by finding the end
- Remove holder spindle
- Remove old roll
- Dispose of old roll in bin
- Fit new roll onto spindle (and here we got into an argument over which way the paper should roll... ;-) )
- Fit roll into holder
Unfortunately my son coasts through life. He's bone-lazy, expects everything handed to him on a platter and throws a hissy-fit when it doesn't happen (is that normal teen behaviour or a portent of disaster?). He knows perfectly well how to change a toilet roll - he simply doesn't do it.
I guess the toilet roll is simply the tip of the paper-trail....
Yes, still alive
Some of you are getting worried that I may have perished... :-) Nope, still here. The thing is this - the love of my life has been occupying all my time and attention, and any leftovers go to sorting out Olivia the Landy. Screen-time is minimal, the computer gets turned on merely to upload pictures to a Land Rover forum as work progresses, and then it's back to the arms of my dream man and the innards of my dream ride.
So yes, I'm still alive. And kicking (butt). It's just that blogging is taking a very serious back seat for the forseable future!
So yes, I'm still alive. And kicking (butt). It's just that blogging is taking a very serious back seat for the forseable future!
More Blog-lite
If you thought the Lite bloggging was bad recently, it's about to get a whole lot worse. My favourite man is going to be keeping me busy for a while with a variety of things that take priority over blogging! :-) Which is, of course, the "something big going down" I mentioned recently - and that's all you'll hear for now.
But watch this space - you may get a hint of some of what is going on behind the scenes one day.
But watch this space - you may get a hint of some of what is going on behind the scenes one day.
While Shopping
Being the end of the week, and food running low, I did a cross-town dash (well - dawdle... we went in Olivia) to Pick 'n Pay for supplies earlier this evening. And remembered why I'd taken to shopping on weekend evenings last year!
Perhaps it's just that side of town, but we do have some lovely men around here. And I was pretty surprised to have been ogled by a few while perusing the shelves. I guess there's more than one way to window-shop. (Hmmm.. was ogled earlier at the work-place mall too - must be something in the air)
I've mentioned before that I really like South African men. We have a great deal of wonderful blokes here of every variety. There's something about your average SA guy that you don't find in many other places, and hard to put a finger on. Perhaps it's merely a cultural thing - a common thread of background or recognition of particular genetic strain that may or may not be shared. But before I get all philosophical, I'll just say this.
There's nothing like Pick 'n Pay on a Friday night for eye candy. :-)
Perhaps it's just that side of town, but we do have some lovely men around here. And I was pretty surprised to have been ogled by a few while perusing the shelves. I guess there's more than one way to window-shop. (Hmmm.. was ogled earlier at the work-place mall too - must be something in the air)
I've mentioned before that I really like South African men. We have a great deal of wonderful blokes here of every variety. There's something about your average SA guy that you don't find in many other places, and hard to put a finger on. Perhaps it's merely a cultural thing - a common thread of background or recognition of particular genetic strain that may or may not be shared. But before I get all philosophical, I'll just say this.
There's nothing like Pick 'n Pay on a Friday night for eye candy. :-)
Laws of Attraction
This post has been languishing in drafts for nearly a week. I'd almost forgotten about it - almost.. - but was reminded of its existance over lunchtime.
So, with a bit of a tweak and an update, here it is!
------------
Meetings are interesting beasts. Sometimes they drone on for so long that you start to amuse yourself. You begin examining your meeting-mates in-depth on the sly, and using them to fuel all sorts of ponderings.
This time round I had a go at the whole Physical Attraction thing. What it is that makes one person more attractive to you than another. Funny thing this, but I could find something attractive about all the humans gathered there, varied as they were! If you lined them up next to each other you might not be able to see common ground though, to figure out just what I'd consider appealing.
I saw an online amusement-thingie (those fill in the blanks and we'll tell you your fortune type sites) a while back that had you measure attractiveness on a variety of faces, and then it either threw up your "ideal" or told you all about your personality. Which sounds a bit on the dodgy side, yet has it's entertainment value when bored.
But here's the thing. And this is after some meeting-pondering and beyond.
If you asked me to define my "ideal" of what I find attractive, I wouldn't be able to pin it down. Nor could you garner it by examining the last 10 year's worth of my crushes and madly-loves - except that "tall and nutty" makes up a good percentage of that number, and always has.
When I was younger I had a "wish-list" of traits - some of which make me shudder in horror today, but nevertheless. I guess it was the teen thing of pin-up boys, where you followed the herd when it came to drooling over men, and stuck up whatever centerfold was in this week's You.
Today - well I'm older. Wiser (we hope, though my idiocy factor is running high this week). More sure of me and how I move in the world I inhabit. And my "wish-list" has turned from outer to inner. OK, so the bloke with the incredibly bluegreen eyes and shock of dark hair I spotted in Pick 'n Pay had me do a double-take (unfortunately co-incided with his double-take.. blush :-) ), and now and then I'll go "wow" (no, not out loud! well, not usually) over a passer-by or think "hell, he's cute!" when introduced to someone. But as I said - line them up and there's very little common ground. All you'll gather from that exercise is that South Africa is populated by some damn fine men, whatever your taste is. (And that I seriously drool too much - but hey...!)
Which leads me - finally - to a conclusion of sorts. That it's the person inside shining through that I find more attractive than a bullet-list of handsome. You can have model-chiselled looks, but I'll say "no thanks" if there's no naughty gleam in the eye or layers of fascination to examine. Correction - probably wouldn't have said hi to the model type anyway, as generally speaking they're shallow and vain (and I'm shallow enough myself to brush them off based on stereotype alone! :-) ).
Laws of attraction? Nah - no set in stone laws here. Guidelines perhaps (a girl must have standards after all!), with a liberal dose of gut feel and connection-karma thrown in. A "I know it when I see it" thing, my own version of the X-factor.
Though if I turn over half-asleep in the dark, take one look and scream - that might be a subtle sign the guidelines need reworking.... :-)
So, with a bit of a tweak and an update, here it is!
------------
Meetings are interesting beasts. Sometimes they drone on for so long that you start to amuse yourself. You begin examining your meeting-mates in-depth on the sly, and using them to fuel all sorts of ponderings.
This time round I had a go at the whole Physical Attraction thing. What it is that makes one person more attractive to you than another. Funny thing this, but I could find something attractive about all the humans gathered there, varied as they were! If you lined them up next to each other you might not be able to see common ground though, to figure out just what I'd consider appealing.
I saw an online amusement-thingie (those fill in the blanks and we'll tell you your fortune type sites) a while back that had you measure attractiveness on a variety of faces, and then it either threw up your "ideal" or told you all about your personality. Which sounds a bit on the dodgy side, yet has it's entertainment value when bored.
But here's the thing. And this is after some meeting-pondering and beyond.
If you asked me to define my "ideal" of what I find attractive, I wouldn't be able to pin it down. Nor could you garner it by examining the last 10 year's worth of my crushes and madly-loves - except that "tall and nutty" makes up a good percentage of that number, and always has.
When I was younger I had a "wish-list" of traits - some of which make me shudder in horror today, but nevertheless. I guess it was the teen thing of pin-up boys, where you followed the herd when it came to drooling over men, and stuck up whatever centerfold was in this week's You.
Today - well I'm older. Wiser (we hope, though my idiocy factor is running high this week). More sure of me and how I move in the world I inhabit. And my "wish-list" has turned from outer to inner. OK, so the bloke with the incredibly bluegreen eyes and shock of dark hair I spotted in Pick 'n Pay had me do a double-take (unfortunately co-incided with his double-take.. blush :-) ), and now and then I'll go "wow" (no, not out loud! well, not usually) over a passer-by or think "hell, he's cute!" when introduced to someone. But as I said - line them up and there's very little common ground. All you'll gather from that exercise is that South Africa is populated by some damn fine men, whatever your taste is. (And that I seriously drool too much - but hey...!)
Which leads me - finally - to a conclusion of sorts. That it's the person inside shining through that I find more attractive than a bullet-list of handsome. You can have model-chiselled looks, but I'll say "no thanks" if there's no naughty gleam in the eye or layers of fascination to examine. Correction - probably wouldn't have said hi to the model type anyway, as generally speaking they're shallow and vain (and I'm shallow enough myself to brush them off based on stereotype alone! :-) ).
Laws of attraction? Nah - no set in stone laws here. Guidelines perhaps (a girl must have standards after all!), with a liberal dose of gut feel and connection-karma thrown in. A "I know it when I see it" thing, my own version of the X-factor.
Though if I turn over half-asleep in the dark, take one look and scream - that might be a subtle sign the guidelines need reworking.... :-)
Flights of Fancy
Dear SAA, Kulula, 1time, Mango & Nationwide (or any other relatively-unknown domestic airlines)
When are you planning to introduce snog-commute weekend specials on your Cape Town to Joburg flights?
Sincerely
Michelle
When are you planning to introduce snog-commute weekend specials on your Cape Town to Joburg flights?
Sincerely
Michelle
This Kiss
There's nothing like a really great snog, a passionate liplock where time stands still. Equally, there's nothing as horrible as a bad kisser...
My very first kiss was when I was 15 - yah, I was a late bloomer. I had just hit a new high school - boarding school - and to my surprise ended up with a boyfriend quite quickly. That first kiss was behind the library on a Friday night, after our compulsory evening meeting - and I was totally inexperienced. We locked lips - but French kissing? I knew nothing of that! I had to have it explained to me, then attempted... but I did catch on quite quickly.
And have loved kissing/being kissed ever since.
There's one that completely stands out though. I had a best friend - a guy who I'd gone to school with, and who studied at the same place I did after school. We were a nutty team, always doing crazy stuff like rubbing blue Smarties on our lips and walking around a mall smiling at people. Driving home from Tech with our eyes closed while the other partner in crime directed. Writing entire letters to each other in rhyme - making up words if necesary. Getting "involved" beyond friendship was out of the question, we didn't want to ruin what we had.
But one day we happened to kiss...
I can't even remember what led up to it. All I know is that we were travelling the train from town to city. But once our lips met stations passed unseen. Time went by without causing a single radar blip. I think the conductor must have come past looking for tickets, but we didn't notice. And what seemed like seconds later, we were at journey's end! Now THAT'S a good kiss!
Unfortunately it was a once-off, we never kissed again.
Worst kiss? The bloke who tried to "French" me without a hint of tongue involved. Just this open mouthed slobbery blankness. Gross!!!
I've been kissed in public, kissed in secret, kissed on the dancefloor, kissed in the back row of the movies, kissed long and hard, kissed butterfly-light. Kissed to begin something - kissed to end it all. Greeting-kissed, comfort-kissed, passion-kissed. Kissed all over.
Isn't it strange how the meeting of soft flesh between two people, a stimulation of the nerve endings around your mouth, can be so expressive? So incredibly sensational? So addictive..? Add in the anticipation of that first one with someone new - will it be a match made in heaven or a taste of hell? - and this simple touching of skin on skin turns into one of the most complex experiences. From the perfunctory peck to the passionate embrace, a kiss runs the length and breadth of meaning. A single kiss will tell you more about where you stand in the other's estimation than a page of words.
It's been a while since I indulged in a good kiss or had a run-in with an excellent kisser. I think I'm going to have to do something about that.. :-)
My very first kiss was when I was 15 - yah, I was a late bloomer. I had just hit a new high school - boarding school - and to my surprise ended up with a boyfriend quite quickly. That first kiss was behind the library on a Friday night, after our compulsory evening meeting - and I was totally inexperienced. We locked lips - but French kissing? I knew nothing of that! I had to have it explained to me, then attempted... but I did catch on quite quickly.
And have loved kissing/being kissed ever since.
There's one that completely stands out though. I had a best friend - a guy who I'd gone to school with, and who studied at the same place I did after school. We were a nutty team, always doing crazy stuff like rubbing blue Smarties on our lips and walking around a mall smiling at people. Driving home from Tech with our eyes closed while the other partner in crime directed. Writing entire letters to each other in rhyme - making up words if necesary. Getting "involved" beyond friendship was out of the question, we didn't want to ruin what we had.
But one day we happened to kiss...
I can't even remember what led up to it. All I know is that we were travelling the train from town to city. But once our lips met stations passed unseen. Time went by without causing a single radar blip. I think the conductor must have come past looking for tickets, but we didn't notice. And what seemed like seconds later, we were at journey's end! Now THAT'S a good kiss!
Unfortunately it was a once-off, we never kissed again.
Worst kiss? The bloke who tried to "French" me without a hint of tongue involved. Just this open mouthed slobbery blankness. Gross!!!
I've been kissed in public, kissed in secret, kissed on the dancefloor, kissed in the back row of the movies, kissed long and hard, kissed butterfly-light. Kissed to begin something - kissed to end it all. Greeting-kissed, comfort-kissed, passion-kissed. Kissed all over.
Isn't it strange how the meeting of soft flesh between two people, a stimulation of the nerve endings around your mouth, can be so expressive? So incredibly sensational? So addictive..? Add in the anticipation of that first one with someone new - will it be a match made in heaven or a taste of hell? - and this simple touching of skin on skin turns into one of the most complex experiences. From the perfunctory peck to the passionate embrace, a kiss runs the length and breadth of meaning. A single kiss will tell you more about where you stand in the other's estimation than a page of words.
It's been a while since I indulged in a good kiss or had a run-in with an excellent kisser. I think I'm going to have to do something about that.. :-)
Gone
Whatever happened to men that would fight tooth and nail for you? Are we just not worth it anymore?
(woke up with this question bouncing around my head, unfortunately - got no answer)
(woke up with this question bouncing around my head, unfortunately - got no answer)
Hopeless!
I've just dashed down to our mall to get the weekly goodies that keep body and soul together, but one small incident while there made me realize a horrible thing!
It happened like this: I popped into Wordsworth Books to check if they had something I want, and behind the "maps and travel" case I had to step over a bloke sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by various maps of South Africa. On the way back I nearly stepped over him again, but in a snap decision stopped and asked, "Going anywhere interesting?". "Yup", says he, "just trying to find out where!" I pointed at the rack behind us filled with international guide books and told him, "It's not like you don't have a choice!" - but he reckoned he wanted to start small, with stuff in the area.
At which point I was already flustered and blushing thanks to being bold enough to talk to a stranger - and not even one I was "trying to pick up"!!! So I kinda threw in one more comment and buggered off...! Face probably still aglow.
Which made me realize that as much as I put on a show of bravado every day, I'm still really really shy. And too shy to pick up guys, for sure! I mean, this was just a few phrases exchanged with some bloke who looked like your average done-working-for-the-week business type, though I'm not sure I've ever seen a businessman type sitting crosslegged on the carpet in a shop. More like an "computer geek during the week, 4x4 on weekends" type of guy. And although I definitely wasn't doing any picking up, I thought afterwards I should have stuck him for a coffee and discussed where to go in the area (never hurts to meet new people!).
So that's my big mall lightbulb moment. I'm hopeless at picking up guys (I may be equally hopeless at being picked up! :-) ). I'm even hopeless at simply chatting to strangers. I'm too shy. I blush too easily. I get all flustered and stick foot firmly in mouth. I only think of the right thing to say when it's too late.
Like I said, hopeless.
It happened like this: I popped into Wordsworth Books to check if they had something I want, and behind the "maps and travel" case I had to step over a bloke sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by various maps of South Africa. On the way back I nearly stepped over him again, but in a snap decision stopped and asked, "Going anywhere interesting?". "Yup", says he, "just trying to find out where!" I pointed at the rack behind us filled with international guide books and told him, "It's not like you don't have a choice!" - but he reckoned he wanted to start small, with stuff in the area.
At which point I was already flustered and blushing thanks to being bold enough to talk to a stranger - and not even one I was "trying to pick up"!!! So I kinda threw in one more comment and buggered off...! Face probably still aglow.
Which made me realize that as much as I put on a show of bravado every day, I'm still really really shy. And too shy to pick up guys, for sure! I mean, this was just a few phrases exchanged with some bloke who looked like your average done-working-for-the-week business type, though I'm not sure I've ever seen a businessman type sitting crosslegged on the carpet in a shop. More like an "computer geek during the week, 4x4 on weekends" type of guy. And although I definitely wasn't doing any picking up, I thought afterwards I should have stuck him for a coffee and discussed where to go in the area (never hurts to meet new people!).
So that's my big mall lightbulb moment. I'm hopeless at picking up guys (I may be equally hopeless at being picked up! :-) ). I'm even hopeless at simply chatting to strangers. I'm too shy. I blush too easily. I get all flustered and stick foot firmly in mouth. I only think of the right thing to say when it's too late.
Like I said, hopeless.
Men/Women
Nice little gender-understanding debate kicking up dust today in blogworld. Champagne Heathen posted about an inability to understand men. Robert countered with an inability to understand women. Age-old tale, but doesn't seem we've made any progress in spite of evolution or survival of the fittest or millenia of The Dating Game.
Personally, I think women are really easy to understand. Keep us happy, love us (or at the very least adore us sufficiently), give us a cuddle now and then, make us laugh, and that's all there is to it! Men on the other hand... well, EISH! Don't get how their minds work at all. And I'm unlikely to either.
So I've given up trying. I simply shrug and say "whatever" when yet another quirk, another illogical action, another shady secretive something-or-other shows up. I no longer try to second-guess what the heck goes on in their heads, nor what makes them tick.
Men are just men. Some are damn good, others are horrifically bad. Take them or leave them - and leave them be when you don't understand what they're on about. Instead of spending all that effort trying to figure them out, just sit back and let them try figure you out for a change. Much less work! :-)
Oh - and one final thought. Not understanding each other perfectly makes life pretty interesting. Imagine if we "got" each other all the time? How absolutely boring!
Personally, I think women are really easy to understand. Keep us happy, love us (or at the very least adore us sufficiently), give us a cuddle now and then, make us laugh, and that's all there is to it! Men on the other hand... well, EISH! Don't get how their minds work at all. And I'm unlikely to either.
So I've given up trying. I simply shrug and say "whatever" when yet another quirk, another illogical action, another shady secretive something-or-other shows up. I no longer try to second-guess what the heck goes on in their heads, nor what makes them tick.
Men are just men. Some are damn good, others are horrifically bad. Take them or leave them - and leave them be when you don't understand what they're on about. Instead of spending all that effort trying to figure them out, just sit back and let them try figure you out for a change. Much less work! :-)
Oh - and one final thought. Not understanding each other perfectly makes life pretty interesting. Imagine if we "got" each other all the time? How absolutely boring!
Men I've Known
No, not in the Biblical sense, silly! :-) Geez, wouldn't want this blog relegated to the "blocked for adult content" category, now would we!!!
I've been thinking about some of the guys I've known lately - one or two of them have played a part in night-time dreams, actors in the scene or repeats of the kinds of things we'd get up to together. Usually voices out of the past - except for last night, which starred a voice from the present. Sometimes they bring to the fore things I've been thinking about, playing them out as my brain processes them during my sleep. And I realized I've been blessed to know some amazing guys in my lifetime.
I've always gotten along better with men than women, so my best friends have often been guys. Most have never gotten into a "relationship" beyond a deep friendship, and many endure to this day as a close bond that simply picks up where it left off when we last saw each other. One friend in particular springs to mind - my best friend through the last years of high school and into tech days. We did everything together, we were constantly rolling around laughing at some joke we'd made or some strange thing only the two of us found funny. We'd write letters to each other in rhyme, making stuff up if we couldn't find a word that fitted. We'd be goofing off in malls and between classes, setting each other strange competitions or simply talking for hours about everything under the sun. When we saw each other recently after a few years, we were right back into it with barely a pause.
Another I've known for 32 of my 35 years. I nearly married his brother! I can't recall us ever getting into a tiff, we've just had a constant deep friendship that spans years, distance, circumstance. He's more brother than non-relative, and we can talk about absolutely anything without having to pick our words.
Many women don't get the deep connection I can develop with some blokes - they see it as strange, sinister, that I may have "alterior motives". But it's not the case.
This week a dream led me to remember three guys in particular.
Brendan Bubb was a high school friend. Built like a gymnast with classic broad shoulders and slim waist, he had the kind of muscles you wanted to run your hands over to feel them move (and was an excellent kisser... ;-) ). He dated quite a few of my friends, but he and I were mostly just buddies. He was the kind who'd give you a shoulder to cry on during those awkward teen years, make you laugh, or just be there to hang with. He thought nothing of going out of his way to see that you were doing OK, or sit and chat when the clique circle shifted past you and left you alone. He knew my secrets, I knew his - and it made for an easy-going friendship with nothing to hide. We lost contact after school. And then a few years ago news reached us that he'd been killed in an accident. There's a blank spot in this world without his unique personality.
Roderick Wright (jokingly called Mr Right) was another friend that went back aways. I think we knew his family when we lived in Zimbabwe, or something - details are lost in the fog of the past. But we kept running into each other every few years and kept in touch by occasional letter (in the days before email) or greetings through mutual friends. One youth camp in Bloemfontein saw me, him and Dueps (another nutty bloke) running around all over the place - freezing our butts to metal slides in frosty playgrounds late at night, attempting to find any sort of nightlife (impossible in Bloemfontein) and checking out the talent at the camp, on both sides of the gender divide. He told us tall tales of forays across the Angolan border while in the army, of meeting up with terrorists by mistake while looking for the horses under his care - and coming back with an "A" shaved into his chest hair by them.... but no other damage. And then 10 years ago I heard that he, too had been killed in an accident. Another gentle, crazy soul that leaves an empty space now that he's gone.
Craig Cooper was the golden boy in our church group. One of a family of good-looking guys, all the girls would go nuts over him. A really nice guy though, and at some stage we did become friends. His path took him in a different direction - although I sometimes heard news of his family and what they were up to, I didn't see much of them, or hear about Craig. Until 2 months ago. He committed suicide, leaving behind an ex-wife and three small children. What would make a guy who seemed to have it all do that? How desperate had he become that death was the only way out? I wish I knew, and wish I had known enough to see if I could help while there was still a chance.
These three are remembered, and lost. In my life for such a short time, but they left a lasting impression that even now shows up in dreams and thoughts.
I've been honoured to know many other amazing men too. Ones that still fill this world with their incredible personalities and presence. They're unique, awesome, crazy, fun - and friends. They enrich my life in ways I can't describe, filling in the ebb and flow of the journey with insight, wisdom and richness. Many I feel a deep affection for, a respect and admiration that has nothing to do with the usual girl/guy stuff. Some I may even love - usually platonic, but sometimes I slip up thanks to their complete and utter deliciousness... :-) (hey, I'm only human!). One or two of them I think are simply the bees knees, the best thing since sliced bread.
But whatever role they play in my life, I'm thankful they're there. I'd hate to be without them.
I've been thinking about some of the guys I've known lately - one or two of them have played a part in night-time dreams, actors in the scene or repeats of the kinds of things we'd get up to together. Usually voices out of the past - except for last night, which starred a voice from the present. Sometimes they bring to the fore things I've been thinking about, playing them out as my brain processes them during my sleep. And I realized I've been blessed to know some amazing guys in my lifetime.
I've always gotten along better with men than women, so my best friends have often been guys. Most have never gotten into a "relationship" beyond a deep friendship, and many endure to this day as a close bond that simply picks up where it left off when we last saw each other. One friend in particular springs to mind - my best friend through the last years of high school and into tech days. We did everything together, we were constantly rolling around laughing at some joke we'd made or some strange thing only the two of us found funny. We'd write letters to each other in rhyme, making stuff up if we couldn't find a word that fitted. We'd be goofing off in malls and between classes, setting each other strange competitions or simply talking for hours about everything under the sun. When we saw each other recently after a few years, we were right back into it with barely a pause.
Another I've known for 32 of my 35 years. I nearly married his brother! I can't recall us ever getting into a tiff, we've just had a constant deep friendship that spans years, distance, circumstance. He's more brother than non-relative, and we can talk about absolutely anything without having to pick our words.
Many women don't get the deep connection I can develop with some blokes - they see it as strange, sinister, that I may have "alterior motives". But it's not the case.
This week a dream led me to remember three guys in particular.
Brendan Bubb was a high school friend. Built like a gymnast with classic broad shoulders and slim waist, he had the kind of muscles you wanted to run your hands over to feel them move (and was an excellent kisser... ;-) ). He dated quite a few of my friends, but he and I were mostly just buddies. He was the kind who'd give you a shoulder to cry on during those awkward teen years, make you laugh, or just be there to hang with. He thought nothing of going out of his way to see that you were doing OK, or sit and chat when the clique circle shifted past you and left you alone. He knew my secrets, I knew his - and it made for an easy-going friendship with nothing to hide. We lost contact after school. And then a few years ago news reached us that he'd been killed in an accident. There's a blank spot in this world without his unique personality.
Roderick Wright (jokingly called Mr Right) was another friend that went back aways. I think we knew his family when we lived in Zimbabwe, or something - details are lost in the fog of the past. But we kept running into each other every few years and kept in touch by occasional letter (in the days before email) or greetings through mutual friends. One youth camp in Bloemfontein saw me, him and Dueps (another nutty bloke) running around all over the place - freezing our butts to metal slides in frosty playgrounds late at night, attempting to find any sort of nightlife (impossible in Bloemfontein) and checking out the talent at the camp, on both sides of the gender divide. He told us tall tales of forays across the Angolan border while in the army, of meeting up with terrorists by mistake while looking for the horses under his care - and coming back with an "A" shaved into his chest hair by them.... but no other damage. And then 10 years ago I heard that he, too had been killed in an accident. Another gentle, crazy soul that leaves an empty space now that he's gone.
Craig Cooper was the golden boy in our church group. One of a family of good-looking guys, all the girls would go nuts over him. A really nice guy though, and at some stage we did become friends. His path took him in a different direction - although I sometimes heard news of his family and what they were up to, I didn't see much of them, or hear about Craig. Until 2 months ago. He committed suicide, leaving behind an ex-wife and three small children. What would make a guy who seemed to have it all do that? How desperate had he become that death was the only way out? I wish I knew, and wish I had known enough to see if I could help while there was still a chance.
These three are remembered, and lost. In my life for such a short time, but they left a lasting impression that even now shows up in dreams and thoughts.
I've been honoured to know many other amazing men too. Ones that still fill this world with their incredible personalities and presence. They're unique, awesome, crazy, fun - and friends. They enrich my life in ways I can't describe, filling in the ebb and flow of the journey with insight, wisdom and richness. Many I feel a deep affection for, a respect and admiration that has nothing to do with the usual girl/guy stuff. Some I may even love - usually platonic, but sometimes I slip up thanks to their complete and utter deliciousness... :-) (hey, I'm only human!). One or two of them I think are simply the bees knees, the best thing since sliced bread.
But whatever role they play in my life, I'm thankful they're there. I'd hate to be without them.
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