Month: October 2016

Fantasies

‘Tell me your fantasies Violet?’

I thought for a while. I thought about a fantasy I used to have when I was younger. Being kidnapped, held for ransom, falling semi in love with my hostage taker, a dramatic rescue by a dark and handsome stranger, riding off on horseback, clothes shredded, dishevelled, a mess but oh god he saved me and kissed me and I looked so skinny and sexy on that horse.

Don’t judge me, it was a fantasy.

Those are the kind of things that women fantasise about. Having wild sex with a stranger, being dominated, ravaged, men on horseback, horses…

So when he asked me, it was easy

‘Okay,’ I said.  ‘I have this amazing fantasy, this dream, this…’

I hesitated.

Because I didn’t see ransom notes or horses riding off into the sunset. I didn’t see a muscular man with long hair and a perfect six pack.

I saw me, wearing an oversized sweater in a cosy cabin on the beach, a roaring fire, dogs at my feet, a typewriter, tons of paper, red wine, cigarettes and someone, old and lovely, delivering my food.

The only part of this dream that will never happen is the cigarette bit.

I hate smoking.

The rest…

Ah, I’m just going to carry on fantasising…

kidnap

Things a girl needs

A passport
Moonlight
A breeze
A dog who smiles
And never leaves her side
A hip flask
Summer frocks
And straw hats
Imported chocolate
Dance
Joni Mitchell
Ice lollies
Freshly picked mint
A good book
Good friends
Coffee beans
And a grinder
A picnic blanket
Fishnet stockings
A little love, here and there

Wi-fi

And the most fabulous pair
of Valentino shoes.

valentino

Haters gonna hate

I sometimes get into Twitter wars.

I can’t help it; I see people posting stuff that is racist or prejudiced and I find it hard to keep quiet.

So I try and engage.

I’ve tried in different ways.

Hey, that doesn’t sound so democratic…

Hey, I know you’re angry but maybe you’re directing your anger at the wrong people…

You know I don’t really like being called a Jewish pig, that’s kinda generalising don’t you think?

What I have not yet learned is that it hardly ever helps, no matter which tactic you choose, to talk to haters. You can try engage seriously and ask questions about why or what. You can say  you think burning libraries is not such a good idea or that using Hitler as a role model is pretty damn dangerous

It mostly lands up in a barrage of name calling and doesn’t get anybody anywhere.

I leave the conversations feeling battered, shattered and pretty terrified of the hatred that is out there.

The last guy I tried to chat to was a student praising Mcebo Dlamini for being a Hitler lover.

Dlamini is one of the leaders of the Fees Must Fall movement at Wits University. He digs Hitler.  People dig him.  It’s mad.

When I said I didn’t think that Black Consciousness leader Steve Biko would’ve approved of such blatant anti-semitism he called me ‘a white supremacist and of course Hitler was right and we should all have landed up in the gas…’oh oops there goes the 140 character Twitter limit and I’m kinda glad I didn’t have to hear the end of the rant.

I need to walk away.

I also need to remember that the haters are in the minority, that they just seem to take over and make everything awful but honestly, most things are good and most people are good and we all want the same which is peace and health, wine and cake, also respect, freedom and equality and goddammit let’s go after all these good things that  we deserve, let’s just do it together and harmoniously and yeah, I’m dreaming again hey.

Gods.  Goddesses.

We need to chill out.

Smoke some weed.

Set fire to joints instead of libraries.

Have great sex.

And love, a whole lot more.

weed

Weekend getaway

‘Let’s go away for the weekend,’ I suggested. ‘Somewhere with a plunge pool, a Spa, delicous food, good wine.’

‘Where are you suggesting, Violet?’

A bit more enthusiasm would’ve been cool but I’ve got used to his cold unyielding ways.

‘I donno, there are lots of places, I’ll have a look, find something lovely, not too far. We can take books, read, do nothing, go for long walks, swim…’

‘When, Violet?’

Any time, look at your calendar, let’s go now, next weekend, whenever, soon…’

He was quiet for a while. Then…

‘You want to take books with?’

‘Yes. Imagine two full days without phones, no other people, just a book a day. You like reading don’t you?’

More silence.

I knew I was pushing it. But still, a weekend away.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Make the arrangements.’

I nearly fell off my chair. He’s never been so easy about anything.

‘But make it close to home. It should be environmentally friendly, self-sustainable, have an extra length king size bed with two duvets, non-allergic pillows, 800 thread cotton sheets, pocket sprung mattress, extra size bathtub and shower, thick decent towels, no children anywhere nearby, no cats, no horses, a bar fridge, single malt, the finest wine, complimentary cigars, crystal glasses…’

‘That’s it? That’s all?’ I asked.

‘Oh. And let’s take another woman with us,’ he said. ‘Let me know when you’ve booked.’

So much for easy.

romance

Summer liaison

I’m about to have a Sunday afternoon liaison and help me out here friends, what does one wear for a Sunday afternoon liaison?

I really want him to see me in my new lace dress with nothing underneath but it’s elegant and smart and I will look a bit ridiculous wearing it in the middle of the day.

A denim skirt with cowboy boots so I don’t look too dressed up? No. Mostly because I don’t have a denim skirt or a pair of cowboy boots, so yeah, that won’t work.

Sexy slip?

It feels a bit odd opening the door in a slip. I know, I’ve done it before. Silly.

A robe with heels? Mmm, a bit like a high class hooker. Which there is nothing wrong with and I have utmost respect for anyone who is a hooker but you know, it’s just not my style.

I’m going to have to go with what I’m wearing already.

Short shorts and a t-shirt.

It’s summer, it’s boiling, we’re in the middle of a heat wave.

It’s a stupid time to have a liaison anyway.

I think we should go swimming instead.

naked-swim

Saturday respite

It feels calm.

I have honey sandwiches, a new sundress,  bees in the garden, peaches to eat.

It feels calm.

There’s been tons of rain, the weather is balmy, dogs are snoozing, Tom Waits is singing.

It feels calm.

There are bubbles in the air, a blue balloon, a little girl giggles; a butterfly.

It feels calm.

We have rooftops to dance on, rivers to swim in, wine to drink, men to make love to, women to laugh with, cupcakes to eat, new friends and old, strangers and dog walks and there’s always cake.

It feels calm.

It feels that way.

We all know it isn’t.

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