Mawwiage

So Beardyman and I done went and did it. We got hitched. Legally and everything. We proposed to each other (and I was really happy to be able to use the "Dammit Janet" song from RHPS as my proposal!), and arranged the legal wedding date at Home Affairs.

By some luck, we were able to have our legal wedding while my parents were here visiting from Canada! Now, we were going to leave it at that, and not do anything in particular, but after a few friends pouted, we decided to throw a party.

As luck would have it, our landlord also has a venue that he rents out for parties. We thought it would be perfect - it's eclectic and casual and fun, plus kid friendly.

So we started planning a party. Yes, there was a guest-list, but only so we could keep track of RSVPs. We were catering the thing ourselves, and I would never have forgiven myself if there wasn't enough food for our guests. We were super bummed that we couldn't book any live bands due to the multiple music festivals happening over that weekend, but yet again, our landlord was super awesome and his DJ brother (DJ Bob) was able to spin some tunes!

Seeing as how most of our family and friends have kids, it had to be a kid friendly party. So we got a jumping castle, which was a massive hit, and horse rides! Quite a few of our parent friends/family were happy to let the kids go jump their energy off on the castle - I wanted to join them, but I was wearing a dress....

Seeing as how we'd done the legal thing already, Beardyman and I put together a wedding ceremony that we felt reflected our personalities. I walked in to the Throne Room music from Star Wars, the first bit of the ceremony was the "Mawwiage" speech from The Princess Bride. We did a little mime to Sea of Love as our vows, and the ring exchange was the "One ring to rule them all". We got a very sweet friend of ours to be the officiant - and she was awesome! She was canny enough to don a hooded cloak for the ceremony! (Oh! And our wedding rings were a good mashup of our love for LOTR and Star Wars. My ring has engraved, in Elvish, "I know", and his has engraved, in Elvish, "I love you".)

We'd initially decided not to tell my parents about the party so it would be a complete surprise for them when it happened. However, we realised that they would find out about it once they're here because we were still finalizing everything.

And boy, were we glad to let them in on the secret! My Dad made chicken curry for the guests (which was a raging success, by the way. People told me they went back for seconds and thirds!), and my Mom got involved in the minimal decorations needed.

Plus, my Mom had such a brilliant idea - instead of her walking me down the aisle (My Dad walked me for my first wedding, it was only fair she get a turn), she would drag me while I vociferously protested. My Dad would stand next to Beardyman, glaring at him and tapping his palm menacingly with a truncheon.

And it worked. It was hysterical - and we got the ceremony we wanted :) None of the guests knew about the ceremony, they thought they were just here for a party, so they were quite surprised when they were called to the chapel.

Has anything changed since getting hitched? Well, other than remembering to call each other "husband" and "wife", not much. We're still the same as we were - a team. I annoy him, he annoys me, it's perfect ❤❤

Farm life vs City life

So I've been living on a farm with Beardyman for over a year now. I'm the first to admit that I'm a city girl, so it's been quite an experience. Here's a little break-down of the difference between Farm Life and City Life.

Farm Life:

You can rent a nice sized house, with a huge garden, for roughly the same price as a bachelor flat in town. Oh, and the house also has a lock up garage. 

Bugs. So many bugs. We've had bees try to make hives on the outside of the house. Which is cool and all, but when they start coming into the house and attacking me and the animals (I got stung on my face, one of the dogs got stung and I had to kill a bee that was trying to sting April when she was little), they must just fuck off. 

You're not sharing walls or any other kind of infrastructure with your neighbours. Which means you don't hear microwave dings, TV shows, bow-chicka-wow-wow etc.

We know our neighbours. Which is actually cool. It's not a town thing to actually get to know your neighbours beyond the "sup" nod you exchange in the parking lot.

We're a good twenty minute drive away from the shops. So you have to plan your shopping, because if you realise you've forgotten the milk when you get home, it's just not worth the time and petrol to schlep the twenty minutes back to the shops, get milk, and drive yet another 20 minutes home.

You don't get ADSL here. So we're on good old mobile internet. Not always fast, but it's better than no internet.

I can walk the dogs in the fields off the leash. It means they come back dirty (especially Bowie, he simply loves the organic, gluten-free mud baths that are offered on the farm >.< ), but they have a ton of fun. Plus, no smoke spewing cars every five minutes to choke up your nostrils.

It's FUCKING COLD here in winter. I thought Joburg winters were cold when I lived in town. Farm winters are just another thing. It's insane, and I'm eternally grateful for tea and gas heaters.

 

City Life:

You pay over a third of your salary on rent. And you don't get a garage. If you're lucky, a 2 bed townhouse gets one marked spot, and maybe it's got a roof type thing. You also only have the choice of dishwasher OR washing machine. And if your complex doesn't have a laundromat, then washing machine it is! (yes, I know, a dishwasher is a luxury item, but we both fucking hate doing dishes).

You're probably about 2 minutes drive from the shops. So if you forget something, it's not that big a deal to pop down again and get it. 

You can hear everything your neighbours are doing. Which is occasionally more entertaining than what's on the TV - especially when you can tell she's faking it. It's also annoying when you have parents that ignore their kids' screaming. 

Way fewer bugs. You see fewer spiders and earwigs and flies and moths and bees. Especially bees. Lately the spiders here have taken to crawling up the drain hole of the bathtub and just hanging out. So you'll groggily walk into the bathroom in the morning and get stared at by 5 medium sized spiders that are chilling in the tub. Not cool guys. At lease pay part of the damn rent.

High speed internet. High speed uncapped fibre. I must really love Beardyman. I left high speed fibre internet for him. *sigh*. I still miss it, but totally worth it.

Walks involve leashes, and no mud baths. The scenery isn't nearly as nice, and you don't get to see much in the way of wildlife. Oh, you'd see cows (yes, there was a field in town where cows would graze), but no guinea fowl or jackals. 

I mean, both sides have their pros and cons. Farm life isn't for everyone, and city life isn't for everyone. I wouldn't change it, though. We can play music super loud without 15 people complaining, we actually have enough space for a dishwasher, washing machine AND a deep freeze (fancy, eh?), and the garden is big enough for our animals to sprint around in. The sunsets and sunrises here are amazing, which is enough to make it worth the spiders in the tub.

What it's like having six animals

So Beardyman and I have six animals. Four dogs, two cats. Thankfully we live on a farm where they have loads of space to be animals.

But how does one get to having six animals? Let me tell you - we're suckers, that's why. We prefer animals to most people.

When Beardy and I started dating, I had Hopper (RIP), and he had three dogs - Dory, Lady and Parrow. So we started off with four dogs. No big deal right?
I was given Hopper as a gift, he'd bought Dory with an ex-girlfriend. He found Lady in the streets (scavenging and pregnant!), and then Lady and Dory went off to get pregnant together, and he ended up with Parrow.

You already know about Hopper. Let me tell you about Dory, Parrow and Lady.

Dory is 100% mutt. We're certain there's border collie in her from how she tries to herd the other animals. She's also mostly deaf, so we've had to teach her a little bit of sign language. Very loving little thing, and will bark at absolutely nothing.

We're not entirely sure how old Lady is. I'm guessing around 8 years since she's getting a little white around her muzzle. She hates getting out of bed (and will stay in bed all day when it's cold), and needs to be given loves and scratches before eating her food.

Parrow is Dory's son. He has one blue eye and one brown eye, and is a snuggler of note. That dog can spoon, let me tell you. And when he runs, he looks like a superhero comic book dog. Also, when he's hungry, he will sing you the song of his people in a key that cuts right through your skull.

Then, in December of 2015, Beardy's baby brother brought us a tiny little kitten that he'd found in the parking lot of his work. I estimate she was around 4 weeks old, and was probably dumped because of a very mild eye infection that was sorted out in a couple of weeks with a cheap over the counter ointment. And that's how we got April. Since she was raised by dogs, she sometimes acts like one, and will shout at me for cat tuna until I give it to her.

Then last year August, one of Beardy's coworkers begged us to adopt a puppy that she was given (note: Please do not give people animals as gifts, especially if you don't know whether or not they want one!). Bowie is now nearly 11 months old, and a very active and clever Labrador. He's the biggest one of the pack, but plays quite gently with the others.

Finally, a few months ago, we took on Scruffy. She's an elderly cat, whose owners were moving to a pet free place. Due to her age and the fact that she wasn't spayed, we took her. She was not impressed at having had major surgery the second day we got her, but hey. We live on a farm. All our animals are fixed otherwise we'd have 237 cats and 15 dogs. And I love animals, but that's just too much.

Scruffy is now adjusted to life here, to the point where she'll wander around the garden, chase Bowie around and play with stray socks.

Having six animals is hard work, and can get expensive. We're lucky in that our vet gives bulk discounts for vaccinations, however. But we love them dearly. They each have their own personality and quirks, and we wouldn't trade them for the world. We get a hero's welcome when we come home, and lots of love and licks and the occasional nose in the butt. Even the cats will come out to say "Hey! Welcome home! Now give us tuna!" Plus, snuggly dogs in winter = heaven.

Why losing a dog hurts so much

I know. It's been a while. I've been caught up in that thing called "real life".

However. I feel like I need to write this today.

On Friday, we had to say goodbye to my first ever dog. The first dog that was my dog. He was 11 years and 51 weeks old. He'd been battling lymphoma, arthritis, laryngeal paralysis and old age.

I first got Hopper as a one year anniversary gift from the AsshatExHusband. I remember getting this little ball of fluff, bursting into tears and cuddling the snot out of him.

Hopper had been with me through thick and thin. Moves across the country, shitty jobs, a divorce etc. He's the reason I didn't commit suicide after the AsshatExHusband left. I was sitting the bathtub, ready to open arteries (I'd even googled their locations on the arm), and he came in and gave me this "What you doing" look.

Hopper had always been a joi de vivre type of dog. We're going for a walk? AWESOME! We're getting a biscuit? AWESOME! We're getting scritched? AWESOME. We're getting a bath? Not so awesome, but I GET BISCUITS! Awesome!

His reaction to Beardyman (the love of my life) cemented my decision to be with him. He *adored* Beardyman. He loved Beardyman more than he ever loved ExHusband.

I'm glad he got to see his twilight years out on a farm. Where he could smell all sorts of interesting things. With a pack that loved him. And that pack included a cat, April. April would keep him company when I took the other dogs for a walk. She loved him. I would see her rub up against him, and lay down next to him under the tree.

Losing a dog hurts. It hurts more than you think it would. I've been through the death of my sister. I didn't think I could feel anything that hurt more than that. But seeing Hopper slip away really fucking hurt.

And I think I know why. Hopper loved me unconditionally. He was always so excited when I came home - whether it was from work, or popping out to the shops for half an hour. I could tell him anything and not get any judgement. He was always ready to fall asleep next to me. He was always happy to accept any kind of affection, without any kind of bullshit judgment that you get from other people.

He didn't judge me for wailing off key to a song. He didn't judge me for spending all day in my pajamas. He didn't judge me for watching trashy reality shows.

A dog is the best emotional investment you'll ever make. They love you regardless of fashion or music tastes. They're always excited to see you. They'll sleep next to you/near you to protect you from nightmares. They'll snuggle you when you're sad. They'll always be up for playing.

We don't deserve dogs. They certainly deserve better than us.

All I ask is that, if you read this, and you're touched by it, give your animal/s some extra loves today. Because frankly, they deserve it. They always will. And we're not worthy. 

Dating after 30

So, as previously mentioned, AsshatExHusband and I split up over a year ago. So obviously, I've been dating.

Being that I work from home, and going out by yourself (as a female) is dodgy and dangerous, I ended up using Tinder to find dates.

I have met some...interesting characters. I briefly dated someone ten years younger than me. He was fun but...I mean, he'd never watched Gummi Bears! Or MacGuyver! It could never have worked.

There was a girl who had serious potential (entertainment lawyer who worked for TIM FUCKING MINCHIN, into musicals and super funny), but for no reason she just stopped chatting to me before we could meet up :( .

There was a divorced dad who had two little girls, and he was a little too much into WOO for me.
For the uninitiated, WOO is when you buy everything that Food Babe says (i.e. if a ten year old can't pronounce it, you shouldn't put it into your body. Ok, so I shouldn't put Dihydrogen monoxide into my body, or as it's otherwise known, WATER), chemicals are bad (never mind that EVERYTHING IS FUCKING CHEMICALS), etc . Plus, he kissed like a 12 year old - all tongue. Seriously. So much tongue. Bleh.

There were a few Tinder matches that never got further than random chatting. One chap was clearly into negging. Negging is when you pay someone a compliment that is actually an insult, for example:
"That dress is lovely, it would look better if you lost a few pounds."
Clearly it didn't work on me. I mean, I give myself enough negative talk without having to accept it from some random person that doesn't even know me. And then the guy who gave me the line "nice guys always come last." I have no time for that - that smacks of the type of guy who complains that he's "friendzoned". Dude, women are not machines that you put niceness into and get sex in return.

Another chap had potential, as he was super into books and movies, and we had some awesome conversations about both. But for some reason he got cold feet about a week after our first date, and called it off. Which is fine, I was hardly expecting to marry him and bear his spawn, but I did enjoy the stimulating conversations we had.

I did get one good chap from Tinder - the aforementioned Beardyman. He's a big animal lover (plus), a musician (plus), loves reading (PLUS), can actually cook (plus) and has a very naughty smile.  He doesn't think he's smart, but he is. And an absolute gentleman to boot - we've been dating just over 3 months and he still opens doors for me. Something, incidentally, that Ex never did.

He's totally cool with the fact that I'm a massive dork - in fact, for my birthday, he got me TWO JRR Tolkien books (the Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales), and loves The Fifth Element nearly as much as I do. I like this one, so I think I'll keep him around.

Where I've been

Ok, I've not been having a bubble bath in a forest. I don't get that, by the way. I mean, hello. BUGS. MANY BUGS. How relaxing can a bath be when a centipede lands in your cleavage???

I haven't posted in a very long time. My bad. So here's what's been going on for the last while.

Antisocial Husband is now AsshatExhusband. We still work together, and are totally amicable. Apparently splitting up amicably is a foreign thing, when I consider how many people have commented about how "adult" we're being. I'm over 30, I don't have time for drama, and plus we had a prenuptial contract which is SUPER AWESOME, I cannot recommend them enough. Having a prenup doesn't mean you're planning on splitting - because it can protect you during the marriage as well. I mean, if I'd suddenly developed a gambling problem, the prenup would have prevented debt collectors from coming after Ex's stuff to pay off my nonsense.

Did he break my heart? Yup. Did he destroy me? Nope. In fact, what with the benefit of hindsight, splitting up was the best thing to do, because we were growing apart. If he hadn't done it last year, I probably would have done it at some point in the future. I spent ten years with him, and I have learned a lot in those ten years.EDITED TO ADD: I recently found out that AsshatExhusband cheated on me and left me for the woman he was cheating on me with. I asked him numerous times if he was leaving me for someone else, and he said no.

Thankfully I've been lucky in that my friends and family have been super amazing and supportive. A good emotional support structure is worth more than one can think, and my loved ones have been madly brilliant.

I'm now living in a new place, with housemates. And the new place didn't have internet for nearly a year, which is a big part of my excuse for not blogging.

I'm also doing belly dancing. And apparently I'm pretty good at it, which was a massive shock to me. I mean, I'm the whitest person you'll meet when it comes to dancing. I have all the rhythm of a dead squirrel.

Let's see, what else...

Oh! I'm dating a rather lovely man :) Beardyman is rather smart, very sweet and has three dogs that he loves. Hopper loves him too (happily!) and his dogs seem to like me too :D. We also rescued a kitty. I'm not a cat person...well I wasn't a cat person. I am one now it seems! We have a lot in common (including being incredibly stubborn), and enough differences to make things interesting. He plays guitar (squeee!) and can draw and cook and gives pretty good massages. So I think I'll let him live ;)

I have to tell you, getting back into the dating world after the age of 30 is weird. WEIRD. You either get dudes that are looking for something to stick their dick into, or they have way more baggage than you do. And of course, most guys my age and above who are single tend to have kids, which is an emotional minefield. I take my hat off to people who have successful relationships not only with their partners, but their partners' kids and ex-partners. Because yikes.

Canada was lucky enough to get a visit from me this year as well, and it was brilliant to spend time with my parents. Did some cooking, a little sight seeing, lots of kak praat (talking nonsense for my non SA readers), and catching up.

Later dudes. I'm gonna try and post semi-regularly again.

Gender Hypocrisy Pt 2

When we're kids, there are certain societal rules that have to be followed. Boys are not allowed to cry ever. Girls are never allowed to lose their tempers.

Crying is seen a form of weakness - but it's ok for girls to cry. Anger is seen a form of strength - but it's not ok for girls to show anger. Frankly, I think it's ridiculous. If you're sad because your girlfriend dumped you, or you lost your favourite CD or family member died, you should be able to feel grief and sadness and express it. Boys who are told to "man up" and "be a man" are being emotionally stunted and damaged. Girls who are told "that's not ladylike" and "be a lady" are also being emotionally stunted and damaged. Feel what you need to feel, bottling things up will never result in unicorns and rainbows.

It's rough being a girl, since you're regarded as a physical commodity. Women are traded and bartered like livestock. In some cultures, if you find out you're pregnant with a girl, you do your best to get rid of the fetus or kill the baby. We have to be chaste and sweet, but if we ACT chaste and sweet, we're called names. For example, catcalling in the street - if you ignore the harassing comments, you get called a frigid bitch, or worse. If you give them a smile, it eggs them on. If you turn down a suitor, you get called slut, whore, bitch, etc. But if you date everyone that asks you, you're a slut, a whore, easy etc.

It's probably just as rough being a boy, but since I'm not a boy, I can't draw on any personal experiences to underline that statement.

Things that are considered "girly":
Art
Dancing
Music
Cooking
Sewing
Designing
Nursing
Waitressing
Gymnastics
Figure skating
Raising children
Dieting
Love stories
Long hair

So apparently men aren't allowed to be nurturing and creative and expressive.

Things that are considered "manly":
Bodybuilding
Sports
Guitar
Bringing home the bacon
Break dancing
Being a doctor
Hard physical labour
Beer
Short hair
Tattoos
Fighting
Being in charge/being the boss

So apparently women aren't allowed to be providers and strong and assertive.

Isn't that ridiculous? Justin Timberlake is a dancer and singer, and a world wide sex symbol. Chef Ramsay is very highly regarded even though he's doing the "female" job of getting in the kitchen and making a sandwich. Rick Moranis quit acting to raise his children after his wife passed away, and he's universally admired for that. And so on and so forth. Why society feels the need to label activities as gender appropriate is beyond me.

My highschool was rather forward thinking in many ways, but when it came to gender, it was a little stalled. When I was in matric, the girls petitioned to be able to wear the same grey pants during winter that the boys did. The headmaster denied it, saying that "the pants are not ladylike". But having your dress blown up around your waist is? Girls weren't allowed to do woodwork either - not that I specifically wanted to, but it would've been nice to have the choice.