That old couple

I have always felt kind of sorry for “those couples” that have been together since they were teenagers. I know how cruel that sounds but in all honesty this is what goes through my mind when people tell me they’ve been together since high school: “holy crap that is unnecessarily long, they probably love each other the way they love their pets. Sigh... there is no way that they still have sex”. But because I’m polite, I respond “wow that’s so wonderful”.

On Sunday the 21^st of October I celebrated 5 years of being with the love of my life. Now I'm one of “them”. Sitting on the other side of the relationship fence. The side where people love to ask me for relationship advice like I'm some kind of expert. The side that archaic people think it’s okay to ask ridiculous questions like are we going to get married? If we do, how many children? Would we live in Cape Town or go back to Johannesburg? Bla bla bla.

It’s actually really tough to dodge these questions politely. Sometimes I don’t quite manage. Sometimes I don’t even try.

As one of “them” I can sincerely say that when you get to 5 years, it doesn't seem long. Not even with the three years of JHB-CPT “see you one weekend a month” long distance.

I used to tell all my friends not to do this long distance thing, but now I'm glad that none of them listened to me. Long distance somehow brings you closer, makes words clearer and makes promises stick. These past 5 years seems like a few holidays, dinners, tears and laughter.

Even so, I know that the next person who hears “it’s been 5 years” come out of my mouth will be thinking “you poor thing, you guys have been together for so long that you definitely don’t have sex any more.”

To ‘you people’, I say fuck you.

Goodbyes are painful

Okay so its done. In a space of 2 years one little happy family by the name ‘Tripple D house’ has changed. It now stands that I am the last D that is in South Africa never mind Cape Town. It seems my little happy family have all grown up a smidge faster than me and have moved to places to better their careers.

Farewell's seem to be our speciality  with My Robyn’s farewell putting us in the most hated neighbours list and now we say goodbye to TP.

The latest person to Leave is my best friend TP. She signed the contract, moved out of her apartment, sent her stuff to jhb and packed all within a month.

Seems pretty quick but what this actually means is that I had a full month to prepare my tears and as I have mentioned before: I am a massive cryer.

Her farewell dinner was organised with 12 of her closest friends at a larney restaurant in Moullie Point.

I firstly noticed something strange when I was the first to arrive. 

Me.

Early.

There was definitely something wrong, I should have suspected something from that first punctual second.

As the rest of the farewell party trickled in, they bring news. I soon find out that TP is in hospital after running down lions head she hurt her ankle. At first I did what I’m sure you just did: “Pffff, its just a sprain, she just needed to walk it off”. Then I felt guilty because apparently they heard a pop (a runners term for a torn ligament) and had to be carried down by buff strangers.

Luckily, TP had for her waiting a pair of crutches. You see we had another friend whose ankles also decided not to pull their weight at a little festival called Tomorrow Land. Anthea had progressed from her shiny crutches to the ever attractive moon boot. At least that was one thing covered.

something occurred to me: I, the normally injured Dana put a spanner in the stars with my abnormal punctuality which obviously lead to the injury of ‘always-on-time-TP’ and her being a few hours late to her own farewell dinner.

From now on I swear to be the tardy injured one in friendship circles, if either of these traits change it seems the people I love get wounded. So next time I’m late for something just remember that I’m probably saving someone from a terrible or painful experience.

I’m doing it for them.