Millions intended to be spent on the health needs of Eastern Cape residents have gone missing from d.
I am smitten, gobsmacked and totally besotted. But I sleep soundly and this is strange to me. I never thought that a great love and peace of mind could coexist, until I observed my sleeping habits.
On a recent trip to Dubai, a friend even offered to use her dollars to buy me a pregnancy test because she never saw anyone sleeping so much.
Somehow we have grown to accept that unless there is a certain level of apathy, your brain, heart and hormones work overtime. I call it worry, with good reason.
All was fair and good until the snoozing got out of control. My shrink suggested a session. They always do, because everyone is so dead set against psycho-analyses. Some people would rather sit in an electric chair than lie on a shrink's coach.
After he probed and dug, I admitted that I am on cloud nine, have had the famous Oprah's aha moments and have no time for hate players anymore. Like the sadist that most shrinks are, he rushed for the "haters" and asked for their profiles.
"People... you know, the kind that act like they have never lived because, in essence, they haven't, and they make your relationship their business for the purpose of looking like they have halos."
After dilly-dallying, trying to justify his fee, I threw it at him.
"I'm in love with a younger man and it's not the first time. People have said it's a problem so I back off until I'm let down by someone my age. Then I merrily go back to my young men and marvel at the armour from their endless capabilities. But then my murmurs are always interrupted by pessimists like the script writer of Isidingo's Glenn and Calvin saga."
My shrink sees nothing wrong with this, but many people do. He doesn't care that when my man was born, my younger sister was four and my mother took her sweet time before she gave me a sibling - take out your calculator.
I know I shouldn't care, but often I'm made to. I used to make it my problem that my mother swallowed air whenever I mentioned him. I also almost gave myself a heart attack just thinking about those tight-arsed UJ students who think of me as the relative they should be nice to, to get to him. I have wondered what he will see in me when I'm 50, but who said anything about the year 2050?
Somehow though, the advice I once gave to a friend, saying: "It's best to get the young, they never grow up anyway," stopped working for a while. That's when he wakes up to watch MTV first thing in the morning and refers to Mary J Blige as an old-school artist.
This has sent me back to the "boep" circles of guys my age. He smelt like Doom. I watched in disgust as he polished his square-toed black shoes that were so last decade that a charity would have sent them back. His music almost made me faint. So I came back running like Whitney Houston in that video, I Wanna Run To You. Only I was running to a clueless bloke who hasn't been corrupted by the evil uncles from Pitoria.
The shrink's conclusion: Because I have been challenging all the laws of the universe, relationships will never be exempt. How do you feel about that? Is it me or are shrinks just smart-arsed?
I replied. "Weird and disturbing as you might find this, I feel complete when I exercise my right to choose."
I should have told him that I feel whole because I have not been forced to follow boring methods that gave me sleepless nights all my life. I feel iconic that he finds me hot despite my old-school music, cuisine, friends and fashion.
The term "cradle snatcher" does not bother me. He also snatched me from a coma. I have always felt different. Black sheep if you will, but at last I am comfortable that I don't have to be a holy cow who preaches moral regeneration, but is the first to throw stones at people trying to spread love. I have a trophy boyfriend who gives me money and massages I feel zzz...zzz...zzz. What a nice feeling. Ps, he brings me a blanket when I doze off zzz..zzz...zzz.