First Bar Fly Grumble…

First Bar Fly Grumble…

Is that I do not plan on getting married. Ok? So back the bluddy hell a mile or two off and let me rest peacefully and sit stroking my only man of worth, this grubby draft glass of beer.

This doesn’t mean I am not going to get married. That I do not hold out hope for falling desperately in love with a man (who happens to stick around the same continent as me! That would be a decent start!) and spend future years contorting ourselves around the karma sutra, to finally pop out noisy money-sucking hot offspring, and live the rest of our days by screwing with their minds & making them mini slaves.

It just means I am not planning it. If it happens, it happens. If not, there are gonna be many a happy Bar Fly man living out the occasional night hours with me after the bar closes.

So stop asking why I ain’t anywhere closer to walking an aisle with my hot bod donned in white.

And YES! I CAN wear white even if it is publicly lying!

While I love you various people over forty who opened “Setting Up Single Girls” season this week with scrutinising my single status…. Back the hell off on this topic!

Bluddy boss with his line of questioning ending with him planning on putting an ad on an internet date site? All while I thought he and I were discussing new WORK projects for me to take over.

“So I was thinking that the Limpopo OVC thing….”
“You know, you just have to write, Hi I’m Champs and I am looking to meet some people”.
“Whaaa? Listen sweetie… I meet people all the time. I am hardly scarce of people in my life. Actually, I wish half of them would bugger off and let me have some peace some days. They are interrupting my beer drinking… Fkc off and give me a pay increase.”

French Teacher got lambasted with “Well, yes, I can understand why you want me to get hitched, what with how well marriage worked out for you!”

“Zat Eengleesh bastard ex-husband man of mine. Phhhft. I deteeest em. Never get involved with zee Engleesh!”

Uncle asks, Where are you?
“I’m chilling on the bed of a guy mate”.
Uncle says, Great. Good start. Finally at the age of twenty-six Champs, you seem to be getting somewhere.
“Mmmm. And me and my mate have so much in common. Like our common love of the naked male body. Yummy!”

“You’re not going to get anywhere if you spend all your days and nights hanging out with gay men!” says a man twice divorced and having vowed off women for ever onwards.

8am in the sun, lying on the floor with my domesticated wolf puppies and my maid walks up to me, looking at a photo of my recently married varsity mates.
Where did they meet?
Varsity. He’s German. He had HOT friends at that wedding. Mmmmm.
And you, Champs, why did you not meet a man there? Or in France? Or anywhere? How old are you now? You are nearly twenty seven and no man…

OHMYGOD!! I have not even had coffee! Paulina, LOOK AT ME! I am lying in a sunny spot on the floor of my parents’ house - cause I could no longer be bothered to pay rent. In my pyjamas. Which are not even pyjamas. They are pieces of old tracksuits stolen during varsity days from brothers and mates. Playing with dogs instead of being a proactive arse-kissing employee and being at work anywhere near time. Which happens to be a kak paying job involving bleeding heart idealists trying to ‘save people from themselves’.

I am a reprobate of the highest order! I am two steps before being a crack addicted unemployed skank with growing weight & debilitating emotional problems. Right now in my life, having to actually share such pleasure of this self with another person just ain’t gonna happen. Ok?

Now pass me another beer!