An Open Letter To The Boys of Cape Town

It is a truth universally acknowledged that men in Cape Town are either taken, gay or always say or do the wrong thing.

Over the past year I have been subjected to various interactions that have had me grimacing, speechless and on the verge of tears. And if it’s happened to me, there’s a chance it has happened to other girls. So if any of those single boys who may be cute, dress well, have a job and are nice to homeless people are wondering why their beds are empty, here’s some insight. I have put together a list of things you really shouldn’t do or say based on all my personal experiences.

*Please don’t try to impress me by telling me about your car. I don’t know much about cars and while you’re talking about mags (is that the right term?) I’ll be nodding off. I don’t care about your suspension or zooped up sound system; if your car doesn’t break down daily, you’ve already got me interested. If it has aircon and smells nice then I may need a fan as things are about to get hot in herre.

*If you want to try and make an impression by telling me I look like someone famous, go all out. If you say I’m like Kylie because we’re both short or I’m a brunette like Eva Longoria; I’m smile and maybe even giggle. You’ve obviously overshot your landing but I like your ambition. Telling me I look like Snooki, which has happened twice by the way and only one was a drunk gay guy, is one way to make cry in the bathrooms. Seriously, how can you think being called her twin makes me feel fabulous inside.

*If we’ve been at the club for a while and you’ve tried to hit on both of my friends who have turned you down, that is not a sign to hit on me. This happened recently and I witnessed one rather cute Australian try and get it on with Bestie 1. She would have been interested if maybe he spent say more than 5 minutes trying to impress her. Guys, we realise it’s a club and you’re here for a very important reason but girls still need to be wooed. So if you’re not sure of the vibe you’re picking up after a few minutes, maybe keep trying and you’ll notice a change. Don’t try and move on to her friend and then even worse the other friend standing next to her. Also asking if “I’m not your type” after this doesn’t help matters.

*This next part is a bit weird, I’ll admit. But please don’t ever mention feet to me. I’ll explain. I have a foot phobia. Like I cannot handle looking or touching adult feet. Saying that, I absolutely love baby’s feet. Especially when they’re chubby. Cannot. Get. Enough. But grownup feet, shut the front door. Because of the way other people’s feet make me feel, I take the utmost care to ensure my feet are fabulous. So when I’m waiting outside on the street for a taxi that doesn’t look like it comes straight out of Dogdeville and you compliment my toes, I’ll naturally not trust you.

*As a girl with curves, I can tell your life is hard. Thanks to magazines and those Marilyn Monroe pictures, we have genuinely started to believe that men prefer women with curves. Well I’ve found that that is based on the individual guy’s preference I have noticed more boys are ready for this jelly. What I’ve also found is that they have to tell you. And it’s never in a subtle way. The good way to approach a girl with curves is to treat her like you would any other girl you think is hot. Do not, for instance, as a random recently told me, “I believe big girls need loving too.” Firstly thanks for calling me fat. Secondly as much as I appreciate your attempt to compliment my body, telling me “I love how you girls can keep warm in winter” doesn’t do you any favours.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh! 

*Images from here.