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Thursday, 12 July 2012

The F Word

It’s very rare to find yourself in just the right place at the right time with the right people. But here I was. It was late afternoon and My Guy and I had just found the perfect spot to lay our blanket down on some crunchy brown leaves at Emmerentia Dam. It was warm enough for my favourite white Joe Borkett maxi dress but cold enough that I could occasionally sneak right into the nook of his neck for a warm, cushy squeeze of loveliness.

Ed: “Where the bliksem are you okes? We’re walking up some kinda hill, I’m in trees, I dunno where I am.”

Carly: “I’m standing at the top of the hill in a long white dress, you can’t miss me.”

Ed Sarcastically: “Sounds like a wedding dress…”

Carly With Equal Sarcasm: “I guess it could be”

Giggling to myself, I looked back at My Guy who laughs nervously and waits, looking up at the clouds as I head out to meet my best friend and his lovely girlfriend Olivia. It appears we have found ourselves on an impromptu double date... or triple if you count the vodka and condensed milk as couple no 3.

Maybe it was the perfect lighting, maybe it was the lazy afternoon and easy conversation or maybe it was the knowing glance I got from Ed telling me he liked my new boyfriend. I’m not sure. But it sorta felt like a fairytale.

Ed and I have a running joke that stems from our mutual avoidance or rather inability to accept the binding of two people for eternity. In Ed’s case this is far more literal and at times a physical running away from commitment. Mine is a little more dark and twisty.  I have on more than one occasion physically seen Ed tie his shoe laces and briskly jog out of the door of a long term relationship while I have a nasty habit of professing that I have found The One after only 2 hours of knowing someone thereby dooming the romance into premature we-jaculation. It’s sort of a “Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean” situation where I believe we have been put together in this universe to teach each other some kind of balance between the two and effectively “lick the platter clean”.  Or something like that.

As long as Ed has known me I have always been courted by a surprising number of bizarre suitors. Everyone from The Butcher, The Baker to The Schizophrenic Candle stick maker has made an appearance in my book of not so happy endings.

Carly: “You gotta kiss a few frogs…”

Ed: “My God Carly what pond do you find them in?”

It sounds worse than it was and I say was because I like to think I’ve grown into a less na├»ve more streetwise kinda Princess who has diverted her energies in searching for a Prince toward more fruitful ventures. Like hooking herself up with a sweet castle and kick ass role somewhere in the kingdom we call life. (Funny how when you do that, Mr Charming himself waltzes in and swoops you right outta your glass slippers). Likewise I have felt beyond proud to see Ed allow himself to fall in love, risking all the kings horses and all the kings men not being able to put him back together again. 

It’s no surprise that Ed and I had dubbed the word “Forever” as The F word. A word that seem to shackle both of us in one way or another, the pea underneath a thousand mattresses we sit and drink cocktails on. But somehow sitting there in the park on my colourful quilt, laughing and playing cards I realized that maybe the two of us had finally found a fable we were happy to stay in for a while. And Forever? We’ll let that be the page unwritten in our tale.


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  2. The only worse f-word than "forever" is "forgotten". Loved your post x