Steaking a claim

Ever since Food Network first reached South Africa's TV screens I've been dying to try a Philadelphia Cheesesteak. What more can a person ask for? Meat, bread and lots of gooey, melting cheese! Today my dream came true. I tried out the new Philly  Cheesesteak Company on Main Road in what can be called Bryanston but is really borderline Randburg CBD. It was everything I thought it would be, molten cheese, strips of succulent steak in a crusty roll, the grilled peppers were a suprise but added a bit of spiciness and sweetness. The chips were sensational, definitely handcut, thick, crispy but substantial.  I was a bit disappointed that they didn't have any juices because the menue promised grapefruit, carrot and orange, watermelon and apple and ginger and beetroot. I ordered a Cheddar Cheesesteak with cheese whizz and medium chips which were a really big portion. It all came to R50.

Do not be fooled by the strange locations of the Philly Cheesesteak Company's stores, Randburg CBD and the almost defunkt World Wear Centre in Fairland do not spell trendy. The exterior of the store belies the inviting interior with wooden tables and American themed artwork. It also really impressed  me that the cashier had such an immense knowledge of the brand and made really informed menu choices. He seemed to have a real passion for the food.

The franchise is opening a new store in Newtown soon and I really hope people try it out. I want Philly Cheesesteak Company to be a lasting thing, since I've already decided its going to become one of my favourite takeaways.

My own sick personality

A friend asked me if I was a masochist yesterday. I may have been called many things but never this.
I have an extremely low pain threshold. I'm uncomfortable with the slightest change of temperature and delight in all things fluffy and cute.

I gasped at him, shocked by the accusation. Yet when he explained himself I started to understand that I may very well be a masochist. Except my pleasure comes not from whips and chains but rather the heart-wrenching thing that is emotional pain. I put myself in situations to get hurt. It's always with the same person, I can't take a hint. I make excuses for a person treating me badly and without respect. I consider myself a logical person, people come to me for advice. I may be a bit hot-headed but don't usually make impulsive or irrational decisions. I like to think that despite my penchant for daydreaming which feeds my creativity, I live in the real world.

Why then when I broke up with my ex the first time, did I think it was a plausible excuse for him to not have asked for me back within the first couple months, that the UEFA champions league was on?! I was sure that as soon as he got his soccer fix he would come running.

In my efforts to show him what he was missing I used to cook him a full slap up dinner of chicken Tikka with homemade Roti, which I slaved over for hours, even coming home early from work in order to allow myself enough preparation time, this was a mid-week dinner by the way because he wasn't able to see me during the weekend when we were just friends. I'd pretend that it was just something I put together quickly, no big deal. And he'd eat until there was chicken tikka splattered allover his shirt and staining the sides of his mouth, he'd belch, give me a hug and then leave, only contacting me again the next week when he had time to see me again. How could I think that was normal? It was so hurtful yet I did it over and over again and yes, perhaps taking pleasure in the pain my heart was feeling.

How little self-respect did I have that he could give me rules when we got back together for how often we could see eachother, how much he could give me etc. It felt like a business negotiation, I asked for more, we bartered, eventually came to an agreement, those were the terms of our relationship. Seeing eachother twice a week, not allowing our relationship to get in the way of his studying- never mind my new job. And then the excuses started. He wouldn't come over because he was studying or sick, he couldn't bear to drive to me blah blah blah.
But I excepted those things, all the time feeling so hurt and rejected but I sucked it all up.

I watched a show the other day about a woman in a relationship with an emotionally unavailable man. The psychologist asked her, "How much do you have to work for your friends' affection? What do you have to do to get love from them?" And she answered simply "Nothing" It's the same with me, I have friends and family that love me, that care for me, that want nothing more than to be around me. Why did I have to work so hard just to be around the man I loved.

We lived 10 minutes away from eachother and sometimes only saw eachother once a week. Everytime I put myself out there for him, showed him my vulnerability, he hurt me.

Yet why does the pain feel more addictive to me than the unconditional love I feel from my friends? It must just be my own sick personality.

Razbliuto

'Razbliuto' is a Russian word to describe that empty feeling you have for someone you once loved, but no longer love.

I've been asking myself if what I'm feeling is Razbliuto. I oscillate between yes, no and maybe. On one hand I feel like no definitely not because I'm still in love with my ex. I must be he was my first love and will always occupy that place in my heart. I still remember the good times, the time we spent together, the feeling of comfort and happiness. But then I think that maybe I remember these things with disappointment. Disappointment that it didn;t continue, disappointment that I can't see him again, disappointment that it never worked out. Perhaps Razbliuto is disappointment. What is more hollow than the hollowness of loss? What is more desolate than the desolation of unfulfilled hopes and dreams? When I think of a broken relationship I think of the vastness of a Siberian wasteland. A place which once contained the foundations of a life and now exists for the sole reason of reminding you what you failed at.

Facebook is the worst

I am contemplating the concept of committing Facebook suicide.
Facebook is like that annoying friend in a break-up who keeps telling you that they saw your ex the other day and he's looking good, he's moving on with his life and no he didn't ask about you.
I know, I know Facebook is not a living, breathing entity but it sure is a bitch.
So the first two weeks of the break-up I didn't look at said ex's Facebook profile at all like the good little girl that I am. I would however see his Facebook movements on the side bar on the right hand side of my screen. The first week he wasn't online at all- gratifying to me for the reasoning that he was probably still distraught. But then I started to feel awful and sad because no matter what I still care about him and was worried that I'd hurt him more than I realised during the fight that ended things. Then the next week he was online, quite often in fact, so I started to stress that he was chatting to people and had emerged from the break-up unscathed and ready to take on the world. Then I kept obsessively checking his photos to see that he still had the photos of us on Facebook. Every morning I'd check and if the photos were found to still exist it meant that I could get on with my day. Then, one day I checked and the photos were not there. This had me crying at my co-workers desk, which cut out 2 hours from my morning and had my digital editor, who sits next to my work friend, and I exchanging death stares between sniffles because there wasn't enough content for the website. So then the fit of crying came home and to make matters worse I then logged onto Tinder to try and take my mind of my ex but then saw my ex on Tinder so the only thing I could do was collapse on the couch, drink half a bottle of Gin, watch 'Catfish' and pass out. Ok so in this case it was even another form of social media affecting my life on such a profound level. Then the final straw came when I creeped into his Facebook profile again hoping to see the same unchanging timeline that he had since before we broke up but instead saw some girl, a new Facebook friend posting some random private joke on his wall which he commented some other random private joke on and I felt left out, I felt sad and I felt like maybe I had let something good slip away. That quickly turned to anger, in that we had properly been broken up for like two weeks and here he was already dating someone new, how little did I mean? Was it all just a lie? Was he actually looking the whole time we were together and finally he had the opportunity to pursue all these options? I felt crushed, alone, lonely and abandoned. I missed him and felt guilty for the break-up like everything had been my fault. It was in that moment that I unfriended him on Facebook, I deleted his number and started moving on with my life. But it just takes one weak moment, a pmsey fit of emotion or just a seed to start the cycle again. I started to look at his profile again- I kept checking and seeing nothing because we are no longer friends on Facebook or in real life. I sent him a message on Facebook but he didn't reply. I even tried calling him on my birthday because for the first time in three years of knowing him, he didn't even email me a birthday message. But then I suppose why would he? It so hard dealing with the loss of a relationship and people make you believe that you're an anomaly if you can't have your ex on all your social media platforms like the rest of happy 20-something society. In my mother's day it really was just about no longer seeing the person, turning your head when you saw them in public, not taking their phone calls and asking people to stop talking to you about your ex. I think we over-complicate. Why can't it be the same? I feel this crushing pain when I think of never seeing him again, I feel like I'll break into little pieces and not exist if I no longer exist to him. His silence cuts me like a knife and I know its going to take awhile for me to feel like a person away from his validation of me as a person but I just keep telling myself that there was a Varushka that existed before him and there will be one that exists after. Moving on is just so hard and social media makes it all the harder.

Where I want to be

I really want to take a new direction for this blog.
I started trying to chronicle a whole variety of different things from my perspective, movie reviews, food reviews, funny anecdotes. It just didn't match up to anything coherent.
I recently stumbled on a blog called Baggage Reclaim (www.baggagereclaim.co.uk) which has changed my entire outlook on life. I realise that sometimes we go through difficult things in our lives and sometimes we are forced to look inwardly and see that there are aspects of our personality that need to change in order to achieve happiness.
We may have good friends in our lives and family members willing to put it all on the line for you but sometimes it makes less of a difference what these people say than you making that change yourself.
By reading stories of women who were able to build themselves up after being broken down I've been able to look at myself and realise that there are so many things that I've never dealt with in myself.
I never understood why people place so much emphasis on relationships, why break-ups are such a big deal.
I realise now that being in a relationship, especially one that you're totally invested in means having to share yourself and having to stare at yourself in a mirror and ask yourself if you like what you see. Many people feel like they lose themselves in a relationship or that they learned things they never knew about themselves.
As you know by now I've just been through a break-up which shook me to the core because he was my first love.
This has prompted me to go on a journey of finding out who I am and what I want.
I feel like I need to rediscover myself, or even find out who I was to begin with.
I want to tackle issues like self-esteem, complacency, loneliness, compatibility and love, both self-love and external love.
I invite you all to come on this journey with me and share your own thoughts on happiness, love and discovering one's self.

Cut off the limb

My mom told me a story to help me get over my break-up. It went like this...
Before she met my father she was in a relationship with what she belived to be the perfect man caring, fun, attentive, handsome. Her friends told her he was cheating on her but she didn't believe it until they forced her to go to a matinee screening at the local cinema. She gradually realised that she was sitting behind her boyfriend who was sitting next to another girl. She had to sit put for an entire three hour Hindi movie while the man she thought she loved cuddled and kissed a girl that wasn't her.

So I asked her what she did. "I ignored him when I saw him in the street, I didn't take any of his calls and after a few weeks I stopped crying and three months later I met your father," she said.
So why is it that I find it so hard to cut ties?
I've emailed, smsed, called all to ask for closure. I mean we split up on a break but a break is always a break-up. If you need a break from the person you love it means that you don't really love them. I've been stressing out that I'm the bad guy, the one who caused all the strife, the unreasonable one. My ex made me believe that I emotionally broke him, made him feel like dirt and broke his heart beyond repair. The first blow came when I decided that I needed to start thinking about dating again. Checked out Tinder and saw him already on there. Then I see that he's flirting with a girl on Facebook and that really tipped me over the edge. All this time that I've been feeling guilty and feeling awful he moved on within less than a month. I guess three years didn't make that much of a lasting impression.

I was so upset. I was upset to the point that I cried like a baby in my car and a hobo looked at me like I was pathetic. And then I realised what was the point of feeling bad when I had caused my own sadness. I'm not as strong as those people who can maintain all the rules and regulations of Facebook. I can't be friends with him on Facebook  and not look at what's going on and what's the point of being friends on Facebook anyway, we're not friends in real life. And why should I have his number just to keep telling myself not to text and call him. Back in my mom's day the extent of losing a number was throwing the slip of paper over the balcony or tearing it into pieces. They didn't text then check every 2 minutes if the message had been read. So I deleted his number off my phone, I blocked him on whatsapp, I blocked him on google chat, which I never even used before. I thought I'd feel sad and maybe I still will but right now I feel relieved, I feel free that I never have to know where he is or what he's doing. He was my first love, I guess I can remember the good times and what I took away from the relationship but I can't remember him. His face, his voice, his smell they all need to fade into time like your grandmothers worn sofas which suggest the pattern of roses but you can't quite be sure or ever confirm that's what they were.

Why can't I get over you?

Break-ups are so common place. It is estimated that the average person will go through six break-ups in their lives. Everyday I hear about people breaking up and making up, I watch movies about it, I especially watch weird slow motion music videos about it where a hot video girl runs down a road or throws a vase of flowers at the singer.

But why does it hurt so much when it happens to you?
I've tried to isolate the emotions so that I know exactly what I'm dealing with.

1. Ego
A relationship ending is first and foremost a huge upper cut to the ego. You want to believe that you did everything right and were a very good girlfriend. You want to believe that you tried your hardest so when someone says that they don't want to be with you anymore its difficult to accept. You also feel really small because trust me atleast every person in your workplace, extended family and even car guards at your usual shopping centre will ask where your significant other is and then you'll have to repeat over and over and over again that you and him broke up.

2. There goes the Eurotrip
Most of all its a loss of hopes, dreams, plans and expectations. You feel lost and unable to figure out what you want and how to go about doing it because so much of your relationship focused on the future. There would have often been conversations like "One day when we're rich we'll book that Eurotrip for the two of us." or "One day we'll get a nice two-bed with a small garden." Down to 'We totally have to watch X Men when it comes out!" So now all of a sudden you don't know who you're going to do these things with or even worse if you even still want to do them.

3. Weather for cuddling
It sucks when you get home and usually your significant other might come over and you guys wouldn't do anything but lie in front of the TV and cuddle. Somehow you didn't feel like a hermit when you were doing that with him but doing it alone makes you feel like a crazy cat lady. There seems to be so many hours to fill yet when you think about it the two of you did very little. You stayed in bed till 11am on a Sunday, you ate, went back to bed, ate again, watched Carte Blanche and the 8 o' clock movie and then went back to bed. So howcome Sunday feels like an arid desert of nothingness without him?

4. Mindpower
You convince yourself, when your in a relationship, that your significant other knows your mind. He has some strange voodoo that allows him to know exactly what you're thinking, allows him to see when you're angry or hurt. He knew just how to calm you down and make you feel better. He told you, you were beautiful and made you feel like the smartest person in the world. He was always there when you needed him. If I'm honest I guess we wouldn't be broken up if he knew me that well, he'd have seen how unhappy I was and him not being there for me wouldn't have been one of the reasons we always fought but no matter how bad I know it was it just downright sucks not having someone like that to text, or call or post on their Facebook wall.

The biggest heartbreak

What's worse than breaking up? What's worse than being called a monster? What's worse than your boyfriend telling you he needs space "to heal" because you've hurt him so very much?
I'll tell you, its when you call to hear his voice because you've been going through the most stressful time ever and he says "I just can't be there for you right now, I need to focus on myself."

Tell me if this sounds like I'm a monster...
My boyfriend has been sick for a month straight. No don't worry he doesn't have cancer. He got flu, then he got an eye infection, then he got cocksackie virus (look it up I didn't know it even existed) then he got gastro flu. I'm moving from the house I've lived in for four years with a very fussy cat and a painfully sentimental personality that makes me shiver in anxiety at the mention of any form of change.
I left for the weekend to see my family who I haven't seen in months. He dropped me off at the airport.
I had a lovely weekend, family drama aside and was really depressed and sad about leaving knowing the time of moving was looming, getting closer and closer.
I was already at the airport when I get a message from him telling me that he can't pick me up because his legs are extremely painful and he's nauseous and feverish but he's going to send his brother. I was worried but I thought, ok this is the cocksackie virus again. Shame my poor darling I hope he's ok. I was grateful he asked his brother but was kind of sad that I wouldn't see him when I got off the plane.
I got to Johannesburg and he didn't even send me a message to see if I got home safe. The next day he managed to inform me that he couldnt come over because he was too sick, I appreciated that because cancelling last minute is a big thing for me. But he couldn't even say I miss you? I love you?
Tuesday he still didn't ask me, yes sure the obligatory 'how r u doin?' on whatsapp. Oh yes did I mention I hadn't spoken to him in almost a week- apparently the only way we could communicate was on whatsapp. Let me also explain that when he;s sick I'm not allowed to go over to his place because he prefers being alone.
So by Wednesday when we were still speaking on Whatsapp I lost it. I knew I was being mean but I just couldn't take it anymore. I told him rather not come to help us move because my dad would be angry if he couldn't lift stuff on the day or cancelled on the day. Yes I know it wasn't the right time but was I wrong?
He totally went apeshit! Sending me all Caps messages over whatsapp- I thought I was in for a Carrie-like rage.
Ok so lets skip to the conclusion. He doesnt feel safe with me, he thinks I make him feel pathetic and weak, I need to not be so cold and just understand that he's the sickest and unluckiest guy in the world (oh but God forbid I call him sickly!) I apparently have tons of issues that he can't help me with anymore and he needs to be alone so that he's not at risk anymore.
I tell you what i think by now he's spontaneously grown about three vaginas in secret places around his body.
Oh wait the last statement actually just turned his entire head into a giant vagina- "I just can't be there for you right now, I need to focus on myself."
Goodbye to weak men, girls. I'm not being sexist here but seriously be as strong as you can be, don't indulge in illness because your partner can't handle things. Don't date a guy who's looking for a mother. A girlfriend and a mother are too different things. He thinks I placed expectations on him? I'm 26-fucking-years old and I was having a teenage romance where we saw eachother twice a week and messaged a few times a week over whatsapp. I never dragged him to any of my media events unless he wanted to come (yes free stays at the Palazzo hotel as part of the media team are just too good to pass up), I never forced him to be with my friends or family, I never asked for flowers, holidays, anything. That's it I'm done. Look at the expectations he's put on me! To sit quietly and be waiting silently in the shadows until he got better, to understand things that were in conflict with my own upbringing, to have a relationship on only his terms.
I tell you, I am done.

Why we don't write

I read an Adrian Mole novel once, I think it was meant to be the last one in the series, which proclaimed that "happy people don't write".
Just as most of the milestones in my life have had to do with my one significant love story so did this blog. Yes I am in fact pathetic, I attest to it myself.
So I started the blog to prove something to myself especially since I've always considered myself a writer but at the time, in 2012 I wasn't writing. You can't call yourself a writer if you don't write, right?
So the love of my life and I broke up with me and I needed an outlet and did it help...No! because like the idiot I am I then became friends with said ex-boyfriend and then felt like I couldn't post how sad I was feeling or how much I wanted to staple his balls to the cupboard door and kick the shit out of him. Ofcourse not!
In fact the point of this blog became so obscured and so ridiculous that he even started sharing my blog posts on Facebook to all his friends saying how proud of me he was. But no we were not together at this time in fact that show Friendzone became my televised bible.
And then last year in July I got a great job! Maybe not much to some but I was a writer again because I was writing and people were reading. I became the journalist of a community newspaper which is part of a huge South African conglomerate based on advertising. But a journalist none the less. So that, somehow, coincided with him and I trying again. And that literally just happened! One minute we were lying next to eachother on the couch the next minute we were a couple.
And then I literally just stopped writing on this blog. I don't know what it was. Was it the fact that I was expelling my creative angst somewhere else writing about potholes and horse tack being stolen and interviewing owners of music schools and dog-owners whose pets won best in show? Or was it that he and I were together so suddenly I was theoretically "happy" and therefore didn't need a writing outlet anymore? I didn't need anyone else to share my opinions because he shared my opinions, I didn't give a damn what people thought was funny because I entertained him and that's all that mattered.
I don't know. I mean, someone in my newsroom disclosed the shocking fact that she writes four blogs simultaneously! I find this inconceivable because one meeting with a local councilor gets me to bed by 20:30.
Yet somehow I feel like its not the job, its because him and I are on the rocks and there doesn't seem to be a way out. One of my best friend's who is a filmmaker has a theory that women can't create when they're attached while men can only create when they're attached hence muses. I'm inclined to agree.