Let us start this tale at the very beginning. This is a tale of the girl from Slummies who meets the Shane Warne lookalike. As my bio reads, I am a small town girl. Born and breed in Slummies but lucky enough to have grown up in Cape-Town over the last 5 years.
I loved my childhood in Slummies. I have the best memories of getting up to all kinds things there, with the same bunch of friends I still have today. Everyone knows everyone and life seems to progress and you just keep following the next steps that everyone else seems to be doing, or as society deems right. Boyfriend, date for ages, get engaged, get married, buy a house, have babies. I too followed this system, albeit perhaps not in the right order.
Picture the scene: by 23 I was married to the long term boyfriend who ticked all the boxes, purchased the “dream home”, was decorating up a storm, had a baby and had a great job. Seems like the perfect life. Which is was, for awhile. And then this happened….
One of my best mates from school was getting married, in November, in Cape-Town. Due the husband being a teacher the timing was not ideal with year end exams happening and next thing I knew I was road tripping to the wedding with another best mate and her husband. The plan was to leave on Thursday evening, stop over for the night in PE to break the trip.
Being the groupie that I am, I had a mate in PE who was down playing cricket for Boland. We headed out for a couple of drinks and later met up with the rest of team. It was an event filled evening with some Barney’s locals wanting to throw the cricketers off the balcony. Drinks done, I head off to the wedding the next day and life carries on.
Fast forward to the end of December. I am not going to go into all the details but I had a light bulb moment, took a look at my life and just could not see myself being in that relationship forever. My folks had recently divorced and I think somewhere in the back of my mind I just did not want to be with a person I was not totally head over heels in love with. The person, the husband, had done absolutely nothing wrong, I can’t even begin to find fault with him. It was a typical case of, the old favourite break up term: It’s not you, it’s ME.
So we separate. I move into my own place. I party like a Rock Star, as much as you can in Slummies. I soon started getting bored with the whole Numbers and Buccaneers routine.
Then in October I get a phone call.