Not right

It was all wrong. This happens time and again when you organise something and not just be spontaneous. Like “Come chaps, we’re hammered and ready to rock and roll – let’s go to the Coloneeeeeeeee!” When previously unplanned.
Those always end up being the best nights.

A large pre-holiday final thrash was organised for Friday by C and I with Ramone, E, N, C2 and the rest of the world. The venue? Where else, I mean c’mon. The Manhattan Club naturally.
Peeyuke. Although admittedly, I have spent a good portion of my salary there this year, and fucking enjoyed it too.

I think what broke the camel straw (yes, that thing) was when someone said to me: “You know your boyfriend is so fucking sexy. So hot. I mean, he’s just insanely amazing. Just the sexiest thing ever. Like, step aside.”

OK, easy. Easy tiger.

I know this person. I’m all for and fine with people complimenting my choice in man with: “Well done Peas, he seems lovely.” Or, “Awesome chap Peas, nice looking too, I hope he treats you right.”
But unstoppable gushing followed by dreamy staring just makes me a little tense. Especially after three Jaegerbombs.

But let’s retract. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel supersonically sexy myself. I chose the wrong outfit after dinner at Gourmet Garage – which I had to change into in the parking lot, with Smoking Legs holding up a towel to hide my boobies from the world – and it suddenly dawned on me that this shirt I bought last week, actually doesn’t look all that, even though five minutes ago I thought it was. It actually looks like an apron. I mean, was I blind? No wonder it was on sale.
Second mistake, I wasn’t wearing heels. Unusual. I always wear heels. Especially to places where I need to look like a swan. And predictably, my flats made me feel flat.

After a couple of drinks, tenseness and general just not loving the vibe, we went to get some coffee and sat on the sidewalk sipping and talking.
I enjoyed that part of the evening.
And the part where I had wonderful sex.
He met my mum on Sunday and she had the perfect response: "He's lovely Peas. Himself, relaxed, polite and interested." Now that's what I'm talaking about.

We first met each other when we worked at a ski resort in Colorado six years ago.
I obviously assumed he was American when I first saw him. Coincidentally, as there were only, like, seven South Africans at this resort, he turned out to be one of us.

I was 21 and still very happy with Ex S – we had gone there to live, work and ski together after all. But Smoking Legs and I cannot deny the fact, and admitted this to each other way back then and again now, that the first-laid-eyes-on instant attraction was supersonic.
Supersonic, but I was still very much in love with Ex S. And remained that way for years to come until The End.
I have never felt such extreme instant, undeniable and mutual chemistry with anyone like this before. Have yet to anyway. I stayed far away though.

Now, six years later, here we are. Timing is everything, which then also equates to: everything does happen for a reason. If there are two things I’ve learnt over the year, this is it.