Speak to me bones, I want to really know you…

I read a novel the other day, about a woman whose husband disappears. Obviously her world is shattered, not only by his disappearance but also all the drama that ensues: missing millions, illicit sex, double agents and everything else you can think of. Obviously totally ridiculous, right? Stuff like that just does not happen in real life. Or does it? Are we perhaps just shielded from stuff like that? Just think about it for a second…

You are sitting in front of your computer right now, reading this. What is happening next door? Could the single mom that seems so sweet and hard working be scrambling to get together money for a fix? Could the old man next door that everyone hates because he is always so rude and angry be crying in fear because he knows that he will be dying alone, filled with regret over bad decisions an worst mistakes? What is happening on the other side of the world? Someone is being born this very second while another is moving on to the afterlife. Skip the ocean and in Cuba you might have a drug deal going south in a big way while in Mexico someone is running to cross the border in the hope of creating a better life for his family. Jump to Africa and you might find a tribe leader being welcomed back with song and dance, naked women and children singing his praise for the food he brought back.  You life in a world where anything and everything is possible. What seems impossibly unbelievable to you is the norm in another place. So, is it possible then that this novel is not so far fetched at all?

What I am getting at is a question as old as mankind itself: Is it ever really possible to fully understand someone? Is it really possible to say that you know the person you share your life with? Or do we just understand to the point where they want us to understand? Do we just understand them according to our level of perception? Would it not eliminate so much unnecessary fear and doubt and questions and misunderstandings if we could understand why someone acts they way they do?

I would really like to sit down with a guy one day and just have an honest, open, no BS Q & A session.  

It would obviously have to be someone who is not even a friend. I can imagine a stranger in the streets of Madrid, sitting down for a drink or two and just really get down to the nitty gritty.  

In an ideal world you should be able to ask these things of your partner, but does a relationship that really exist? One where there is totally honesty and trust, one where you are able to ask and answer without being judged. Surely you can agree that, when we get down to the nitty gritty of things, “the truth” as it is being told then will have some level of ego or self consciousness attached to it and this truth is then only a truth as far as the person wants it to be.  

Ask your partner what they truly think about someone who cheated on his wife and the truth you will get will be one that comes from a guarded place of “saying the right thing”. We live in a world where people are so quick to judge without finding out what the reason behind something is. I am a bit of a pain in the a$$ where that is concerned: I always want to dig deeper and find out more – find the why and how, find the driving force behind an action or reaction. We have become so used to the idea of saying what the other person wants to hear, that our answers are thickly lined with self preservation and keeping the repercussions in mind, albeit immediate or a week or a year down the line. That is such nonsense. Would it not be better for all relationships if you could truly say what you think of a situation? That is why I would love to do a Q & A with a stranger; it eliminates the factor of self preservation and then supposedly, you get a better version of the truth, but it is still the truth according to that person’s understanding, experience and perception.

There are so many things I would like to understand about the human race – men especially- why we do certain things and how we justify it to ourselves. If you find something as acceptable which is frowned upon by the next person, does that then mean that you will do such a thing or is it just a matter of “situation permitting”, it would be OK to do that? 

How often do men really think about sex? Is it purely an animal instinct or how much emotion is connected to it? Why go the length of flirting with a girl if you have no intention of making more of it? Why is frustration expressed in fits of anger? Why do they feel it is not OK to come home and just admit they had a sh!tty day and just want a hug? Do men ever just want a hug? What do we do when you are emotionally down? Why do you not express emotion – you have tear ducts for a reason you know?  

There are so many things I want to know and understand, really understand, not so I can judge or condemn, but so I can know you better, understand you better. I guess until such time as truth serum becomes available at my local grocer,being a fly on the wall is a better option, if only that was possible.

What questions do you have?

Quote me…

Do you have a favorite quote that you return to again and again? What is it, and why does it move you?

I am a HUGE fan of quotable quotes. On seeing the prompt, I immediately knew which one, two actually, I would go with, but thought it would be interesting to see how many quote images I have on my iPhone – 2 937!!! There is just something about the written word that draws me in and I just can’t resist saving these and pondering over them late at night. Perhaps one day, when I am older and wiser and have satisfied myself that I know all there is to know about love (hahaha), I will publish “Quotes on Love – How to Love Right for Dummies”… 

For the purpose of the Daily Prompt, the first quote that I will go with must be the one that my mom has taught me years and years ago and which she wants inscribed on her tombstone, believe it or not:


I have had to do a lot of soul searching in writing this post and, some of the things I am about to divulge is guaranteed to shock some of my relatives. Writing this turned out to be harder than expected…

It honestly does not matter how bad a situation is, there really always is something to be grateful for. It is true that, more often than not, when we are faced with the stark reality of a dark situation, it is not easy to see something to be grateful for. However, you will find when you look back, in a week, a month, a year perhaps, you are able to find that something good has come out of the situation. Don’t believe me? Indulge me for a minute, will you?

I am grateful my parents got divorced when I was just five years old and my sister and I had to go live with my grandparents. The years with them taught me what it would be like to have a relationship based on love, trust and respect. It taught me the values of what I am looking for in a relationship.

I am grateful for a gun that failed when I so desperately wanted to take someone’s life at the age of 16. Years later I was able to see that, had I succeeded, my life would have turned out so much different and most certainly not for the better. What preceded and followed that day made me who I am today. It made me stronger, it taught me how to make things work no matter what, it taught me how to make a plan, it taught me that it is up to you to change what you don’t like – no one is going to do that for you, it really is up to you.

I am grateful for never having had much money. It taught me how to survive when the odds are stacked against you and how to value what I have. It taught me how to fend for myself when it feels like everything around you is about to swallow you whole.

I am grateful for the things that led up to day when I realized that my marriage of 12 years have died. It made me see how easy it is for denial to silence the voice of reason and hope we carry inside of us and swallows who you are.

I am grateful for falling in love, way out of my depth and having my heart ripped to shreds. It taught me new dimensions of who I am and what I am actually capable of – on a physical and, more importantly, an emotional level. It brought back confidence I lost after my marriage failed and awoke in my a passion for life I never knew I had. It taught me what I will or will not tolerate in a relationship. It taught me about my values and boundaries and mind sets I have to change.

I can and always will find something to be grateful for, regardless of what comes my way.
Quote 2 is, sort of, my mantra for this year.
For too long I have stressed about things I can not change. For too long I have fought to always be in control of what happens around me. For too long I have allowed uncertainty to steal my joy. This year it really is a matter of whatever will be, will be. I take things as they come and will meet every situation with the pride and fire that burns inside of me, no longer afraid.

Tell me about quotes that inspire you?


Remember my post about fear?  O yes, and the one where I said “Bring it on, I’m ready” and the one after that, where the Universe challenged that statement?  Well, today I received a Noddy Badge for bravery from the Universe and was blessed beyond what words can say.  I’m so happy right now I could actually cry.

Sailor invited me, after a certain amount of not so subtle hinting on my part, to go sailing for the club’s Opening Cruise.  After just about three weeks of incredibly strong South Easterly winds combined with heat wave conditions, we were all very happy when the weather decided to play along for the day.  It was just slightly overcast with a light to moderate breeze – not too hot nor too windy, just perfect.


We set out and pretty soon our attention was drawn to a flock of seagulls.  They were obviously feeding, flying up just to swoop down and feast on whatever meal the ocean was serving up, the surface boiling and frothing with life.  As we drew closer we spotted a dolphin then two, ten, hundreds and hundreds of them!  An entire pod of dolphins, creating a bait ball, hunting and feeding with incredible speed and agility.  Then out of nowhere a whale surfaced right in the middle of the bait ball dispersing it and the dolphins, leaving them to regather and start the hunt again.  No amount of words can describe the magnitutde and the beauty of what was happening in front of my eyes!

As we turned around some of the dolphins followed, playing in the wake while others toyed with the bow – swimming alongside, breaking free from the water and gratiously diving back down just moments before the bow breaks the water.   Lying down with our hands in the water they came close enough for us see the sun painting different colours on their skin and the scars on their bodies, staying just out of reach.  Then, just before they disappear below the surface, a mocking flick of the tailfin served as a reminder that you are in their territory as the water is splashed over your face and they disappear to regroup for the next hunt to begin.


It carried on for a good couple of hours and we would probably have stayed out longer had it not been for the low tide, which put a time limit on our time out there.

I have never had a more humbling and exhilirating experience.  It was truly beyond what I am able to put into words.  I have certainly learned one thing:


The only question that remains (and yes, you know with me there is always a question that remains):

   When can we do it again?!

Lost in the crowd

When you do something scary or stressful — bungee jumping, public speaking, etc. — do you prefer to be surrounded by friends or by strangers? Why?

Alone in a crowd ... image was intentionally softened and colors muted to all but the alone person.

If I had my pick, I would have to say that I would prefer to be on my own,  but that is not an option here, is it?

Whenever I am stressed I don’t talk.  I clam up like an oyster and no amount of prying is going to get me to open up.  On the contrary, prying and prodding and asking and nagging just leads to me becoming irritated and snappy.   And, I must admit, I can become rather snappy when I am trying to figure something out and someone tries to pick at my brain to find out what’s boiling underneath the surface.  My poor family can contest to that and they have learned the fine art of staying-the-hell-away when they see that I am busy working something out in my mind.  Probably not the best approach to have, hey?

I have just never liked the approach of having it out in the heat of the moment, where you speak or act from a passionate and / or emotional point of view.  We always end up saying or doing something that we will regret later and realize too late that those words can not be unsaid.

Instead, I choose to battle things out in mind, considering all options, possibilities, probabilities and alternatives.  I can quite easily brood over something for weeks on end until I have come to a conclusion.  Then, once I have made up my mind, I will state my case.  This too, unfortunately is not the best possible approach.  Quite often the person on the receiving end of my argument, which by now  have turned into a debate worthy of a Presidency Speech, has no idea what I am on about and has already forgotten about the thing that upset me to start with.   Add to that the fact that I have a very keen sense of observing or hearing the smallest little detail and you have a winning recipe – well, on my part at least.  My ex-husband and subsequent boyfriend maintains that I should have become an attorney at law and my arguing style has (un)fortunately left them with not a lot of room for winning an argument.  Not that I mind hahaha!

So for this one, at least if I am amongst strangers, I can count on the fact that I can “get lost in the crowd” and allow my mind to what it does best without any interference.

What do you prefer?

Cover your ears!

Can’t Stand Me

What do you find more unbearable: watching a video of yourself, or listening to a recording of your voice? Why?


Must say, I have never done either one of these, but I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that I love love love singing.  I sing in the shower, I sing when I clean house, I sing when I walk and, much to my co-worker’s dismay, I sing while I work.  I sort of go into this zone where I shut out everyone and everyone except for the radio and merrily sing along while I draft reports, track, trace, investigate and analyse.


Fortunately, I know that I can’t sing to save my life and usually nips it in the butt as soon as I realize that there are eardrums around, which might sustain permanent damage at the sound of my quacking.

A couple of years ago, Luke and I sat on the couch watching Idols and I (once again) whined:

If God knew how much I was going to love signing, why didn’t he just give me a good voice to go with the passion?

Luke (about 8 at the time) thinks for a bit and then pipes up;

Mom, I’ve got it!  When God made you he had to choose between making you clever and giving you a nice voice.  Obviously he decided to make you super clever ‘cause you really don’t sing so well.

The things kids say!

The winds of change they are a-blowing…

Have you ever seen the lions in the zoo? You can tell which ones were brought into captivity from the wild. They have that hungry, wild look in their eyes. With time they either give up and their eyes glaze over or they retaliate. I am not quite sure whether I am ready to retaliate or wait for my eyes to glaze over. I am standing on the brink of that abyss that could either drown me or take me to a different reality.

I’m feeling restless. Edgy. Reckless, even. It is a dangerous place for me to be in. Fight or flight mode is in full swing.

It started as a subtle nag at the back of my head, making the hair at the nape of my neck waltz to the Blaue Donau. In a matter of days it has turned into a fierce Salsa, pulling my thoughts and emotions this way and that, making me head spin and turning my insides to jelly.   The winds of change are blowing. Or is it just me getting ready to run?


Why is it that I think so much? Sometimes I wish I was a silly blond with not a care in the world and a “just-let-it-all-be” attitude. But I can’t. I have this drive, this force, this passion burning inside me and at times like these I feel like a caged lion. When questions burn in your mind and not knowing leaves you feeling like you’re drowning in the big wide ocean, what do you do? Is it better to push through and ask the difficult questions, even though you might not like the answer? Or, is it better to just let it be and walk on by? But walking on will leave the questions burning and the what if’s haunting you in the dark of the night when sleep evades you and the world is quiet all around. I think I think too much.

When is running giving up and when is running retaliating? When does running serve its purpose?

Reason tells me that the restlessness is within. It is the caged lion inside, on the hunt, prowling for the answers. Running will not get rid of the caged lion inside. It will not bring the answers, just more questions. Running is not the answer. Rise up and ask the questions, make the moves and let them hear you roar.

The caged lion that is ready to pounce is telling me to retaliate, to get away from what caused the questions to arise. Run, baby, run. But if I do that, how will I ever grow and learn and know?

The lion with glazed over, the dumb@ss part that always leaves me on the bathroom floor in a pathetic bundle of tears and my soul in a million pieces, tells me to just stay put and to stick it out and Que Sera Sera . Just sweep your questions under the rug and see what happens. Yes, sure, because that has always worked out sooooo well!

What do you do when faced with a difficult situation, when uncertainty plagues your every thought and you feel a tornado like force building up inside of you?

Dumb@ss I am, yet still I will believe

I’ve been struggling with something for a couple of days. Doing that age old dance I know so well, one that I have done a million times. I step left with reason and take two steps back with anger and fear. One step to the right with doubt in the situation and then two steps forward with hope and believe. Ending it all with a step to the right as self doubt says hello and we have come full circle. Ready to start all over again.

Earlier today a friend posted this quote on Facebook:


I shared it with the following comment:


Then I received the Daily Prompt. My mind immediately jumped to a conclusion: Love, I believe in love. Always have and always will. Being who I am, however, I silenced that voice with a “let’s first listen to the song before we go ahead and write about love again, shall we?”. Boy, what a mistake! Here I am on my couch, snot en trane, because I still believe and it hurts. Everytime I get hurt I turn the other cheek and look for a reason to believe. I look for that spark of hope that it is not what it seems. Man, I wish I could just say I don’t care about that stupid little thing called love. But I do and if that is wrong, then let me be wrong day after day, year in and year out. Let me be wrong until I have found my forever man. Let me be wrong until I am old and wrinkled and grey with my love by my side.

I refuse to believe that there is no happy ever after. I’m not saying all sunshine and roses – a real relationship takes work, lots of work, from both parties – but it can be happy ever after.

I refuse to believe that there is no-one out there for me. Someone that with love me and accept me and respect me and challenge me and push me to higher limit and make me laugh and make me mad and make my cry with joy and hold me when I am sad. Someone who will be my best friend, my confidant, my lover, my partner in crime, my protector when I need and my backup when I stand my ground.

I refuse to believe that there is no one out there who can look beyond the body and see that I have a brain and a strong will. I refuse to believe that there is no one out there who won’t be intimidated by my drive or intelligence. I refuse to believe that there is no one out there who can handle my sensitive side as much as they can handle me when I am running on all thrusters and ready to conquer the world.

I refuse to believe that everyone out there lies and cheats and hurts you to only serve their own needs.

Plainly put, I refuse to believe that there are no good guys left.

A friend told me: “Don’t be a pessimist about love, just be cautious with your heart.” I wish I knew how. I wish I knew how to spend time with someone for months and years and then decide whether you love him / her or not and simply walk away. Everyone else seems to be able to do that. Not this chicka, hell no.

I warn myself and tell myself to be cautious. I tell my heart I will not fall in love. Unfortunately, love is imprinted in my gene-pool and it happens in the blink of an eye.

I think I belong to an extinct species of being that is able to fall in love and give all of me, my time and effort and care an compassion and love and tears and joy – body, mind and soul – I give it all and time and time again I find myself lied to and cheated on.

My friend, I wish I knew how to love just a little enough to make it all fun, but I either care fully or not at all. I don’t know how to be cautious. I don’t know how to be with someone and not be 100% real. How do you do it?

So why does believing hurt? It hurts because I put everything in and expect no less back. It hurts because I never know whether I am the only one that feels that way. It hurts because I am always the one that stands there in the end asking what went wrong. It hurts because I don’t know if I will ever have the real deal. It hurts because I am a dumbass.

It hurts because I am tired of doing that dance with me, myself and I.  I don’t want to second guess and wonder anymore.  I don’t want to be cautious.  I want love and be loved wothout worry or doubt or fear, so I will be believe.

It hurts, yet still I will believe.


Tell us about a time when you had to choose between two options, and you picked the unpopular choice.

I’ve never been one to concern myself with what others say or think about me.  Hey, if someone is talking about me behind me back, at least I know I’m one step ahead of them, right?  I pretty much live by the motto, I am who I am.  If you like it, I’m glad, but if you don’t, don’t expect me to be losing any sleep over it.


Hence, when making choices, it is not for me about whether I will make me more or less popular, instead it is about what I feel to be right for me.

The experience I am going to share is one which led to me going to high school with the nickname “Viking” (both on account of the story and my hair) and everyone pretty much left me alone throughout high school.

The Hair:  Growing up, I was pretty little blonde girl with silky soft hair.  The hair soon turned against me and because unruly somewhere around my 12th birthday.  Just before high school I wanted to have it cut into a cute little bob – biggest mistake ever.  I went to high school with an unruly mob of curls which I constantly battled to force into anything resembling any sort of style while it mocked me by becoming more curly with every morning that came to light.  It is only now that I have learned the trick:  there is no point in trying to control the hair – just let it be!

The Incident:  for various reasons better left alone I never liked boys in the way that girls liked boys.  My best friends growing up were two boys, one being our neighbor’s son and the other living three houses up.  I liked them in the sense that we could make mud pies and catch a bird just to open it up and see what’s inside (murderer I hear you shout, but I was young and curious OK?).  I liked them in the sense that we could climb trees and shoot kleilat and marbles.  Imagine my shock when the one wanted to play Doctor Doctor one day.  I scrambled when I figured it out and our friendship pretty much ended there.  The incident that followed me through high school occurred just around the end of winter in our final year in primary school.  It was break time and I was sitting on the pavilion overlooking the sports fields, minding my own business, when one of the boys sat down next to me.  He looked at me stating, very nonchalantly, that he was going to touch my leg.  I told him in no uncertain terms that I would push him off the pavilion if he even tried that.  Apparently he did not take me seriously and proceeded to do just that.  Well, I am a girl of my word, so he ended up on the bleak and dry Free State winter’s grass with a shattered tibia.

Needless to say, my high school career was full of taunts about “dynamite coming in small bottles”, etc.  I really wasn’t fazed by it and quite frankly would not have done it different.

Being unpopular is part of who I am and I like who I am.  I think there is nothing more boring that being the popular girl who every likes and wants to be and wants to be with.  It must be so difficult to keep that up.

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Take it from me, be comfortable with you are and don’t be ashamed to stand up and proudly speak your mind.  The right people will gravitate to you and the wrong ones will pass you by.  It makes life so much simpler…

To Online Date or Not To Online Date – is there really a question?

Sitting at Spur this morning, soaking up the sun and appreciating the absolute beauty of the place that we live in, saturated with the holiday atmosphere – absolute bliss – when something came out of my inevitable hobby of observing, listening and learning about the human race, which sparked an idea for this post.

It was a beautiful morning – the sun beaming down on the beach, its rays doing a subtle dance on the soft ripple on the water, barely a breeze in the air.  All around were people laughing and talking.  Two tables away from me sat a mother and her (slightly embarrassed) son.  He is trying his utmost to be the cool dude in his orange Johnny Bravo shirts, flexing whatever little muscles he has.  His mom on the other hand has taken a liking in the three middle-aged guys at the table next to them (who by the looks of it where quite bored by her jabbering and much more interested in keeping a careful eye on the abundance of bikini-clad girls on the beach).  She practically gave them their condensed family history – everything from where the young man’s dad left just after he was born (with so much emphasis on the fact that she has not been with anyone since then that you had no other choice but to wonder about that) up to him going doing Grade 12 this year and how he is captain of the Rugby A team and hopes to be a Springbok one day.

Just outside, at the park turned carnival grounds for the holiday, a boy of about 4 or 5 was being shot into the air by the bungee-rocket-trampoline thing, laughter bubbling from inside in that pure and innocent, untainted way that you can only get from a child.  When his turn was up he shouted “again, again, please daddy” and daddy dutifully paid for another round of thrills for his son.  By the third or fourth jump on the second go, however, things turned sour when he did a forward flip and proceeded to illustrate the power of projectile vomit in a child.  EVERYONE had to scatter to miss the onslaught.  Gross but hilarious!

My attention was grabbed by a couple who sat just behind me.  Not being able to see them, I had to form my own ideas of what I thought they would look like.  Their conversation had the nervous ring to it of two people just getting to know each other, a first date perhaps.  She was laughing just a little too loudly at the silly (and sometimes downright lame) jokes he made.  He was talking just a little more than men would normally do, painting a picture of who he is and what he likes.  Some of their comments were insightful, some made me laugh and some actually made me go “yeah right, just wait six months and then we’ll see where you stand on that point”.

The conversation turned to online dating (and from what I can gather that is where they met) and went something like this:

Him:      I must say some of the girls I have met are not at all the same as on their profiles

Her:       Yes, you meet some pretty weird people.

Him:      No, I mean the photos!  Most of their photos are from a long time ago or done by professionals or goes back to a time when they were still actually something to look at.  Then you meet up with the girl and she is an absolute dog (Yes, those were his exact words!)

Her:       (laughing nervously) Well at least mine is not that old and I had to put a couple of other ones on there of my earlier days, just so they could see what I used to look like (I’m thinking: what you used to look like doesn’t really matter to the guy you are going to meet, now does it?)

Him:      Yes well, at least I wasn’t shocked when I saw you.

Her:       (laughing just a little too loud for a little too long again)

The conversation carried on for a couple more minutes then moved on to another subject and I soon lost interest until they asked the waiter for the bill.  I simply had to see what they looked like!!!

She is probably in her early forties.  Not unattractive by a long shot, but definitely not someone who you would give a second glance if she had to pass you in the grocery isle at your local supermarket.  He is probably in his late fifties / early sixties with the tell-tale  pot belly and red face of someone who enjoys his braaivleis and brandy a little too much.  They walked towards the exit with that nervous uncertainty of “should I take his hand?” and “should I put my arm around her shoulder?”.  Here is the shocker thought:  they both were wearing wedding bands.  That little sliver of gold on their ring fingers made me cold to the core and sent a thousand questions tumbling through my mind.

Maybe I missed the part of the conversation where they exchanged stories of how their respective spouses had died unexpectedly and they just can bring themselves to the point to take off the rings.  In my heart of hearts I was (still am actually) fiercely hoping that it is indeed what has happened here.

My gut and most likely recent personal experiences tell me a different story however.  What if they are there because they are just looking at an out for what they have at the moment?  Maybe her husband beats her and his wife is cold and distant.  That would give them reason to want to get out, right?    But do their partners know this?  Do they know that they are out there, painting a picture of who they want to be, flirting with love, with the feelings of being accepted and loved?  Do they know that they will wake up someday soon and that person will no longer be there?

What if they are there just simply because they are bored with what has become of their life?  Kids all grown up and nothing to look forward to except the mundane existence of going to work, paying the bills, obligatory family visits and listening to your wife nag about the gutters that need to be cleaned or your husband refusing to drop the habit of leaving his dirty socks next to the couch.  What if they are just bored and are just looking for a new leash of life.  Will they be telling that to each other?  Will their spouses be shocked to realise that their “blissful and comfortable” marriage is nothing but a sham?

I sat and got lost in memories of what I have gone through, all the questions I still hide behind the “I couldn’t care less” attitude and the theories or where I was wrong in all of it.  Tears running down my cheeks pulled me back to the present just in time to see them embrace outside while looking over the ocean to Table Mountain etched against the horizon.  I had the sudden urge to run after them and ask these questions.  Luckily I realized just in time that I would come across as nothing more than a crazed, nosey chick with wild hair and tears in her eyes.

Why do people do the things they do in the name of love?  With so many people out there looking for that one person that they can share a life with, someone who will just love them and accept them – warts and all – why do they lie and cheat and hurt and confuse?  If you are unhappy and it cannot be fixed, get out.  Get out and then go on with your life!  Why do they run off and have affairs just to go back after a while, leaving someone behind with a broken heart and a million questions.  You fell for that someone once; you loved them with all your heart.  What happened?  What went wrong?  Why do you abuse it?  Why can’t you just appreciate and treasure what you have, working at it day after day, giving it your all to make it work no matter what?

I’m fast losing track of where I was planning to go with this post, so let me get back there.

I dabbled in online dating not too long ago, and I must tell you I don’t know where these online dating sites get their models from, but they are obviously not the candidates that are online.  In a period of one week three guys made contact with me.  The one went straight into asking me about my sexual preferences, history, experiences and so on.  He was struck of the list in the blink of an eye.  Number 2 lost interest very fast when he heard that I had a son (not interested in breeders apparently?!).  Number 3 turned out to be very good at performing an Irish jig to any tune – and I mean anything –  and it soon became clear that he is about 11 eggs short of a dozen, if you know what I mean.

As Sailor pointed out recently:  I sure know how to pick them!

Needless to say the experience and my profile were very short-lived.

Sharon Stone once said (it goes for both men and woman though):

woman may fake

So my question is this:  with people being able to fake it in a relationship while you are there, living with them, sharing your thoughts and dreams and hopes and space, without you knowing until it is too late, are there any real success stories that come from online dating?  Online dating – is it worth it?

I’d love to hear about the good (and bad) online dating experiences you or your friends might have had.