The time has come for my Third World Ant lament. It is with a heavy hand I type.
In just ten days, my dear friend, ally, and flatmate of almost two years shall be hitting the high road with her boyfriend. I wish her all the luck in the world, and whilst writing this, I'm going to try and not cry.
I met The Ant four years ago, at our first job, Hell Inc. It was love at first sight. Since then, we have:
Driven around Hillbrow together to take pictures, acted Scottish for a night and broke into a pub, gone crazy at the Durban July, been the life and soul of many a party, and of course, moved in together at end-2005 when Ex S and I broke up.
Living together included dancing around naked, singing karaoke at any time of the day, knowing each other's sexual repertoires by the noises we have heard from each other's rooms, wiping away my tears on my endless break-ups, quaffing wine with me, being polite to any new men who naps over, running across the road with me in our pyjamas to buy late night snacks, making pasta, letting me cuddle in her bed when I'm feeling shit, generally – being one of the best friend's I could ever ask for.
It truly is the end of an era. One never expects 'eras' to end, much like longterm relationships. I thought I'd live with Ant forever, and quite frankly, I would warm to the idea.
But three's a crowd, and the Gilb – her dude – might find the bed a bit squashy with me in there. She's promised me, if I continue to be a bachelorette for the rest of my life, that I can move with them to Chile when we're old and grey, where she will retire on a wine farm. I'll be the live-in friend.
Here's hoping she makes the trek from Secunda to the Big Smoke regularly – for me, and also for her own sanity.
I love you Ant. I'm a little choked up right now – I can't believe you're going, you're really going. I'm going to miss you so much. You'd better not become a stranger, and you'd better phone me every day. I expect a warm bed and a cold Klippies & Cola for me when I make the journey through to the Poenda.
You've been my shoulder to cry on, the person with whom I share so much, the person who makes me giggle hysterically, you've been a sister.
Good luck with your new job, your new hometown, your new life. And never forget, I'm your number one bridesmaid.