Nights alone

Nights on your own are less fun than you’d think. Sure, every magazine advises that us girls take some time out, chill out with ourselves and re-charge our batteries. The boy is away in Pretoria, the housemate out until further notice. I had my weekly dinner with the best friend last night, and then went for drinks with the drinking buddy. So far, have exhausted all my hang out passes for the week. The other awesome choices have all removed themselves from the social scene to visit their boyfriends/study for exams/live in hermanus. So, since I have just been paid and never have a night alone, I decided to splurge. On myself.

Inventory = One bottle odd bins Shiraz 2006 (looked promising), small slab (I don’t get paid THAT much) 70% cocoa Lindt chocolate, one Cleo magazine (I can’t even defend that one...embarrassing I know) and one trashy feminist art novel. I snuggled down on the couch, the weather so very kindly playing along and giving me stunning winter rain and wind against my window. I let the wine breathe (obviously – it’s just correct) for a sumtotal of 10 seconds and had a glass. A mouthful of chocolate and a chapter into the book later, life was good. The only thing that caused me to break was the 6.30 call of 7de Laan. After that, however, the excitement level dropped distinctly.

I then sms’d pretty much everyone I know to detail the scene above and brag.

That was fine, but I only got one response. It sucks when people aren’t jealous.

Ho hum ho hum....so I finished the book. I then decided to cook for the at-some-point-in-the-future-to-return flatmate. Ok. Done. So I read the magazine. Ok. Half the bottle is now gone, and I am seriously not feeling the alone vibe. So I put on some Rihanna and dance around the room. Fun for about 15 seconds in total.

I then sms’d pretty much EVERYONE in my phone book trying to convince someone to come out on this rainy night and see me in my not-very-flattering I-don’t-ever-expect-company-again sweatpant/pyjamas and drink wine with me. NOT ONE TAKER!

Sufficed to say, I got seriously bored all on my own. Eventually I put on an old Enya cd and went to bed. Please, in the interests of my sanity, next time I sms you and ask you to come over, just do. Next time may be suicide...