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Tuesday, 8 May 2012

A Trip to Neverland

Wendy: “Don't you know what a kiss is?”
Peter: “I shall know when you give me one.”

For those of you who’ve never experienced a Brazilian wax or gone to Hollywood down under, you’ll never understand the battle between awkward ceiling staring and womb curdling pain that goes on in that little dry walled room. It had been 2 months since my last visit and my regular go to gal wasn’t there. I like her. She swears a lot and talks smack about boys. Nomsa asks me what I want... how do I tell her without sounding like a total skank that I want to sport something that has mass market appeal? I don’t wanna look like a 12 year old or a porn star; I want something classy... somewhere in between the two. I make the mistake of looking directly up and rehashing the events of the night before. Carly, you will never do this hung-over again. Never.

I met Peter a few months ago through work and he’d asked me round for a night of cocktails at his posse in Sandton. Shortly after arriving, having touched up my roots, agonized over the perfect casual-I’m-not-trying-too-hard outfit and the impulse purchase of some Stimerol (just in case) I realized I was in fact not on a date but a frate. What is a frate you ask? A frate is a date with a friend/s. Carly you will never assume anything ever again. Never.

This is where I met The Lost Boys... a group of guys from a world far, far away from my own. I was completely out of my comfort zone surrounded by a bunch of fun and interesting people with stable existences and jobs that escaped the realm of the arts. These were the boys my mom wished I’d bring home. These were the boys that thought I was weird in high school (before weird was the new cool). I look at Peter and smile as he sips his wine responsibly. So this is what it’s like on the other side, I think.

Later that week I got to thinking about what it might be like to be with someone normal. Usually normal is my dating kryptonite. I’ve always been drawn to dark horses, the unstable, the off centre, the SPCA specials, the musicians, the wounded hearts, the emotionally unavailable, the financially incapable. Fucked up was my normal. And here I was, in a place I never thought I’d be, surrounded by the most unboring and rather fantastic normal bunch of bachelors.

Peter and The Lost Boys invited me round to Neverland again the following week and after a night out on the town I found myself not wanting to leave. So I didn’t. The last time I’d shared a bed with a straight friend of the opposite sex was at age 11... and even he tried to cop a feel. I woke up next to Peter in one of his shirts half disappointed that he hadn’t tried to get me out of it. Ok, three quarters. That’d never happened before, but I guess being newly single means doing things you never thought you’d do. Even if they’re the right things. And you want them to be the wrong things.

Wouldn’t it be great if figuring it all out was as easy as handing over a thimble and calling it a kiss?

It’s these very ponderings that lead to the series of unfortunate events that followed in my wax appointment. Apparently terms like “landing strip”; “cricket pitch” and “subtle but sexy” are lost on Nomsa who only wants to get the job and her 200 bucks outta the way while I lie like a spatchcock chicken on the table. She tells me she’s done and leaves the room for me to get dressed. A Cream Sober is in order as I am apparently about to enter phase 2 of late onset hangover when I look down at the work of “art” she has given me. It’s like I’m looking down at Charlie Chaplin. It’s official. I’m never going to have sex again. Ever.

I am, however, planning many more trips to Neverland. Where the company is fantastic and Peter serves a great Cosmo. 

Monday, 7 May 2012

One of The Boys - May

In celebration of the beginning of my favourite season I am bringing something new to you, my readers. I’ve noticed that a pleasantly surprising large number of you happen to be of the male persuasion so here’s a little treat. I’m going to be posting some monthly insider girl tips, to-do’s and tricks for you to impress your girl with. This will include cool bday present ideas, places to take her her out, cool couply things etc. Ladies you can thank me later. Or you can drop me a mail on if I’ve missed anything you think I HAVE to share with our lovely male audience.

First Date Vibing:

Winesense is this groovy place where you can go and sample a lot of different wines. No one wants to be 100 percent sober on a first date but no one wants to be slurring with purple teeth either so get a bite off their menu as well.  You’ll seem really dapper and original without being pompous and totally score a second date I reckon.

Pimp my Prezzie:

Gifts are hard. Especially with chicks cos we’re so in our own zones. I always say the best gift you can give someone is your time. If I see someone has taken time to get me something thoughtful, or planned something where we can spend time together I immediately get easier. Did I say that out loud?  Book a spot at Wicked Food Cooking School and cook up something together in the group class. Think about it. She’s stirring, you’re wiping sauce off her bottom lip... boom. It’s practically foreplay.

Cocktail of the Month:

 Ascot Hotel. Order the Ascot Martini, sure to impress even the most discerning of martini drinkers. Check out my review. Sit inside where it’s warm and away from the annoying hawkers off Grant Ave.

Between the sheets in May:

DO  give equal attention to both boobs. And don’t pass those baby’s by like a compulsory toll on the way to Durban. Hang out, spend some time, enjoy.

DON’T expect your lady to supply condoms. We’ve already got a lot to think about… lock jaw, gag reflex, flattering lighting, bringing home the big O. Be smart, be safe… keep that shit on you at all times. 

Thursday, 3 May 2012

Martini Review - Rats

Sometimes you wanna go... where everybody knows your name and doesn't mind how many times you've thrown it away. Let me tell you a little bit about Rats... Rats has been one of the very few bars that has survived many a Melville up n down phase. It's got a great mix of locals, arty adventurers and is a fab little low key spot where you can have a traffic beer or a cheesy dance off with your mates between the cocktail tables. You'd think a place like this wouldn't be able to chic up a cocktail or 2 but let me tell you they sure can...

Classic Martini

Done just the way I like it with a little personal twist (pun intended). A twist of lemon peel replaces the olive and does a fantastic job as its understudy, giving this delicious classic some modern subtle flavour.

5 Olives 

Kir Royale

Simple. Pretty. French Inspired. Looks good in your hand. Who doesn't like champers? Slap them immediately. 

4 Olives

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

The Games We Play

Some people play Scrabble and get a triple word score. Some play coy and get a second date. So why doesn’t playing the field always equal a multiple orgasm?

I’d just finished dinner with 3 of my favourites: Thereasa, Jonathan and Joe. We’d spent the night having above average conversation (a rarity) over pizza, minestrone and seafood gnocchi. There we were, friends from yonkers sharing stories and laughing like characters in a sitcom. Thereasa had broken up with her boyfriend of 3 and a bit years and I so relished in having our two go-to-guys perspectives on the situation. For years Thereasa and I had drawn parallels in our less than perfect relationships and we were getting a free autopsy from two fantastic love pathologists. I was ready to get on the table for examining for a play by play of a game I’d entered recklessly and lost.

Jonathan: “You know its really all win:win if you think about it.”

Carly: “It is?”

Jonathan: “Yeah. You could have stayed. He could have made it work and you’d be happy. Or you could have left. And be able to look at your world with limitless possibilities. Win:win”

Joe: “You’ve gotta always be looking out for number one. And that’s you, no one else. Thereasa, you need to end all contact."

Jonathan: “Give me your phone right now.”

Thereasa: “No! I’m not ready to surrender.”

It’s 23:00 and I can’t bare the thought of going home. As I clunk through the byways of Monte Casino, someone gives me a lingering glance and I ‘m completely caught off my guard. This sister has lost her game. Big time. I think it’s time to get it back or get back in it.

Mimi: “Hello?”

Carly: “Call me crazy, but I refuse to have another weekend go by without mischief.”

Mimi: “Umm?”

Carly: “I’m in your hood. I have some classy shoes on and you know what? They wanna dance. Are you in?”

Mimi: “Why not!”

I can’t deal with another romantic evening with my PVR. I’m ready to cross all borders, even the William Nicol one.

How do I describe Billy the Bums? I’d refrained from this establishment when middle aged men stopped pinching bums and went straight for a light labia grope in their approach to attracting a mate. And that’s before 11 pm and the routine bar brawl. But tonight I was willing to throw the dice, get out of my comfort zone and play my cards.
Within 3 minutes and 38 seconds of arrival I’d already unwillingly gone to second base.

Carly: “You see that guy?”

Mimi: “Yes.”

Carly: “He’s the cutest guy in here. We’re ordering there.”

Suddenly I find myself in a tournament I know all to well. The get-to-know-you back and fourth precluding the inevitable make out match. Maybe I haven’t lost all my game. Maybe this is like riding a bike that’s been sitting collecting dust in the garage of a commited relationship for 6 years. You get on and you just go.

Hand on back. Cheek to cheek conversation. 3 second eye contact. A smile that suggests surrender. And then a plunge into the delicious paradigm of lip on lip. I’m back. Six love.

My Goodfella’s driver calls and I know I’m headed for the bench. But before I take my ass off the field I decide to change the rules and do something a little taboo.

Carly: “Can I be a little controversial?”

TBC: “Sure.”

Carly: “I’m not looking for a Labrador or a white picket fence. What I’m looking for is a bit of reckless behaviour. Right now, I don’t want a ring on this finger, I just want someone to make out with on a regular basis.”

TBC: “I’m so glad you said that because I just came out of a 3 year long-distance relationship and...”

Carly: “I know. And that’s about all I need to know. Ever.”

He took my digits. I took a deep breath and walked away a winner. For the first time in my life I’d taken the initiative to eliminate the “if, when, why and how” factor. I’d effectively cut the emotional strings that attach us to a game we never know the rules and regulations to. I’d laid it all out on the table in the interest of getting laid.

When a week had gone by and I hadn’t heard from The Booty Call I got to thinking about the games we play. Could it be that he’s just not that into me? Did my opponent have too much at stake, don’t tell me he’s so cliché that he’s scared? Or maybe, he likes to guess his team mates next move. By showing my cards had I eliminated the challenge in the chase? Had I put myself in a checkmate with a potential bed mate? I guess even in the non-game, game.... you’re bound to encounter some penalties. The Booty Call is To Be Continued... And all bets are off.