How it came to be


A few months ago the biggest decision I had to make was whether or not to buy a pink GHD hair styler. Yes, it was a big decision – so much so, I had to call my mother and ask her for her opinion. And when she gave her opinion, I asked my friend what she thought of the idea. And once she gave her opinion, I was still undecided. So it’s no secret, I guess, that I’m not very good at making decisions. But little did I know that a few days later, I’d make a decision that really was big – the pink GHD styler had nothing on this decision!

But let me pause, press rewind, and give a little background. In the past few weeks people who know me have been very interested in how I met my boyfriend. (I’m not entirely sure how he’d feel about me using his name in my blog, so let’s call him…uhm…aaaaaaahhhhh….ok, let’s just refer to him as ‘boyfriend’ for now [if you have any suggestions for a name, let me know – seems my creativity is slightly lacking]). Anyway – so people have asked how we met and they seem to get all starry-eyed when I tell them the story, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside because it seems to be rather romantic *sigh*.

I’d known him for about 7.5 years – when I’d initially met him in Cape Town, I’d been dating someone else, so was completely oblivious to this gorgeous creature (such a pity – I could slap myself!). He then moved overseas and we hardly had any contact – of course we were friends on Facebook (who isn’t?!), and there were e-mails once or twice a year – and you can learn a lot about male/female interaction from these e-mails. For instance, I’d write numerous paragraphs, blabbing on about seemingly random nonsense (female) and he’d respond with one sentence (male) – so very typical of the genders, no? But I never once imagined anything coming out of my friendship with him, purely because of the fact that he’s in Berlin and I’m in Cape Town. And, being the somewhat smart girl I am, there’s that distance factor, right?

WRONG! (Oh and how lovely it is to be wrong in this instance!)

Somehow, I’m not sure why or how, I start posting little heart thingies and “xxx” on his Facebook wall a few months back. And, being the lovely gentleman that he is, he responds with heart thingies and “xxx” on my wall. So we enter into the flirting thing and I’m giggling and feeling all giddy, but in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “yeah…aint gonna happen!”…but then I get an email suggesting I visit Berlin. And that’s the moment at which I had to make a decision that was bigger than purchasing the pink GHD styler (which, by the way, I got…score!). Now I had to decide whether or not to visit this friend – it was a scary decision because (a) the South African Rand is not that strong against foreign currencies (ok, it’s not strong at all), (b) I’d never been overseas before, (c) people who saw our interactions on Facebook were convinced that we’d end up together…and my thoughts on that at that moment were, “whaaatever!”, and (d) …I’m sure there was another reason.

But the decision was made pretty quickly – especially after spending some 4 hours chatting with this dudie (now the boyfriend) and having him end the conversation with, “well whatever…I know you’ll come over”. The next day I’d booked my ticket, told my boss I needed 2 weeks’ leave, and was wondering what I’d need to pack! The ticket was booked in June and I was going to leave in August – and I spent the entire time in between stressing about the weirdest things imaginable (but that’s for another post).

Through planning my trip to Berlin and deciding with the dudie that we’d visit Rome and Greece, it became so obvious to me that I was falling in love. Like that feeling you get when you see that pair of shoes and you just know. But I had to guard my heart and I spent many hours chatting to my mom and friends, Lisa and Lauren, about this dudie. Conversations went along these lines:

Me: “There’s just no guarantee he likes me!”

Mom/friends: “Uhm, but he said, ‘I like you’.”

Me: “Yes, but what does that mean anyway?! So I like milk tart and caviar. That doesn’t mean I actually like it!”

Mom/friends: “Aaahhh it does mean you like it. You’re weird, what’s wrong with you!?”

Me: “Well you just can’t be sure. He could mean something totally different. In fact, I bet when we see one another after all these years, he’ll just give me a pat of the back and say, “yeah, you…urm…look the same…”

Mom/friends: “No really, you’re weird. *chuckle*”

And then the day arrived – it had been a mission getting a train from Hamburg to Berlin (…ok fine…I took the wrong train….) – but it was worth it! I stepped off the train and there he was, looking all handsome and what-not. He didn’t see me get off the train and was still looking through its windows when I walked up to him and said, in a silly little girl voice, “Hiiiiiiii!”. And yes, it was a little awkward at first, but within a matter of minutes everything was comfortable. And we couldn’t stop hugging – you know that kind of hug – when you’re friends, but you like each other a little more, so you find reasons to hug more, yeah? Or you find reasons to touch the other person’s shoulder a thousand times, even though there’s no need to…yeah…?

Needless to say, it was actually that same night that he asked me to officially be his girlfriend. In fact, we were (attempting to) watch a DVD, but I still cannot tell you what happened in that movie, because all I was aware of was this amazing man sitting on the couch next to me, stuffing his face with pizza and I was concentrating hard on not stuffing my face, even though I could’ve finished that pizza off by myself!

And so our journey began – and so the decision to move to Berlin was made. And that’s why, in a nutshell, I’m attempting to get my bootytoberlin!


2 responses »

  1. Hey Carmie! you make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Thanks!
    oooh by the by – name for the boyfriend…how about BF – its straightforward…just a thought
    lots of love to you both
    xxx Cath

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s