Searching for Sunshine…

Pam Blog

I’ve been going through a difficult patch lately. I lost my job. Well, I didn’t lose it, I know exactly where it is…it’s just no longer mine. My employers were not happy with my performance and, to be honest, neither was I. It was a job I just couldn’t do. It was a bad fit and God knows I worked my ass off, but to no avail. And so, I left. Tail between my legs, confidence shot. I had a bit of a meltdown to be honest and I ended up in a clinic for depression. The bottom had officially fallen out.

After eight weeks of reflecting, crying, shouting and talking I have finally rejoined life. I’m still unemployed and the debt mounts daily, but I am pleased to say that the sun has come out.

And I guess that’s the point, the sun does eventually show its face. Sure, it may not be a heatwave in fact, like Noah, you could be building an ark there is so much rain, but at some point the sun has to shine. Just a glimpse. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but today I sit in the sunshine, beyond grateful and soaking up every bit. For those of you having a rainy day, I wish you sunshine and strength. I wish you umbrellas and water wings. Hold on, the sun is coming and you are not alone.


The Gold Bikini


Well it’s Friday afternoon and I have a serious case of the mid-afternoon slump. Time is literally standing still…

So, many people (ha ha MANY people) okay, more like one person, asked me why I chose to name this little baby, ‘The Gold Bikini’. Well, if you look at earlier posts you will see that when I started this blog my heart had just been thoroughly smashed by the Politician. SMASHED. Not only had he cheated on me with his ex, but also with a beauty queen.

In the past whenever someone mentioned a gold bikini, you know as one frequently does in conversation, I would think of two things.

The first being a story that my mom once told me. When she was in matric she dated this guy a little older than her. She really liked him and, I must say, I’ve seen some photos and he was quite the hottie. Anyway, one day her best friend called to tell her that she had seen said guy with another girl on the beach…But that’s not all…the bitch, slut, whore (my mother’s words not mine) was wearing a gold bikini. When she heard about the bikini my mom said she knew that she just couldn’t compete. And I guess that’s how I felt when I saw the beauty queen…GAME OVER.

The second thing that springs to mind is Carrie Fisher, dressed as Princess Leia, in her gold bikini. I loved Carrie Fisher. She was a champion for mental health and addiction. And she did so without shame. She was fearless when telling her story, something I long to be. And, she wore that gold bikini with pride! She also famously said, ‘Take your broken heart and turn it into art’ and that’s the crux, that is what I hope to do with The Gold Bikini…

My mom’s story has an interesting ending however. Forty years later, the hottie hunted her down and apologized profusely for what he had done. Perhaps my mom was right, perhaps she just couldn’t compete. Not because she wore a conservative full-piece with water-wings (seriously she can’t actually swim), but because there was no competition after all.

Have a wonderful weekend!!



See you in 3.7 hours…


I haven’t been blogging for a few days. Not entirely my fault. I caught a bad case of food poisoning and then, I hate to admit this, but I got lazy, entirely my fault.

To be honest I was feeling a little downhearted about my lack of readership. I spent a few Rands advertising The Gold Bikini on Facebook and then waited for the followers to flood in. I waited… And waited… And nothing…

I started to think that maybe blogging just wasn’t for me. Maybe my mother was wrong after all. So, imagine my surprise when I logged on today and, by God a small miracle, I have a few followers AND some comments!!! I can’t bloody believe it. I am so damn chuffed, who would’ve thought!?!?! Thanks guys, seriously you have made my day. I should probably act a little more hard to get. Like it’s really no big thing, but to me it’s HUGE and a really big thing so thank you. xxx

So I am back on Tinder, I know can you believe it? This time,  however, rather than focusing on the search for my one true love, I am conducting a small social experiment. I’m interested to see just how much you can get away with online. How crazy can you really be before someone runs away. Turns out you can be pretty balls to the wall nuts, see conversation below:

G: Hi there, how are you?

Me: Hi, I am GREAT!!!!!!!! Just had a run. SO. MUCH. FUN. 

G: You from the Cape?

Me: I am from the Cape babe. You keen for a run?

G: Aah ok I am overseas at the moment, but flying home tomorrow. Can’t wait for summer!

Me: Ok so you on for tomoz? Wot time u land?

G: Haha I will be in the air. I get to South Africa on Friday and then have a few things to do. Will be in Cape Town on 15 Jan.

Me: You keen on 15 Jan????

G: Does this include a candle light dinner??

Me: No just a run.

G: I am not looking for a running partner. I want a longtime thing. 

Me: How long are we talking?? Shiiiiiiiiiiit hubby back, chat now!!!

G: U have a hubby?

Me: *************chubby my dog. Sorry!!! Have to take him for a run. Can we chat in 3.7 hours?? 

G: Sure no problem:) 

Really G? You’re happy to chat to me later? How long is 3.7 hours anyway??





A friend of mine was recently beaten up by her boyfriend. He left her with two broken teeth, a black eye and three broken fingers. Although, unfortunately, he didn’t actually leave her. He stayed. He apologized. He promised to change. And so, she stayed. She forgave. She believed.

If you’re on social media, chances are you’ve seen the recent #metoo and time’s up movements. Perhaps sparked by the revelation that Harvey Weinstein is a sexual predator and a world class jerk. Or, maybe, women have just had enough. World-famous female celebrities have come out screaming, no more! Time magazine named ‘the silence breakers’, representing people who came forward to report sexual misconduct, as Person of the Year. Women everywhere joined the #metoo movement, publicly announcing that they too have been victims of sexual harassment.  And yet, despite all this going on in the media. Despite her #metoo, my friend stayed. And, I am ashamed to say, I judged her for this.

I judged her, even though, a long time ago, I stayed myself. Despite having been there, done that. I judged her. And so, I am forced to ask, if the #metoo movement is not making further victims of those that choose to stay? Those that have small children and nowhere to go. Those that are financially dependent on their abuser. Those that are afraid. Please, don’t get me wrong, I think the movement is great and it’s about fucking time, but it’s easier to say #metoo if you’re Taylor Swift. And, although I applaud her for this, I wonder if those of us who have stayed perhaps do not feel even more shame at our inability to say #metoo or time’s up.

I needed to get a restraining order once, because of a guy who wouldn’t leave me alone. He called at all times of night. He emailed my work, my friends and my family. He bribed policemen to badger me. The harassment was endless.  In fact, the only thing worse was my powerlessness to do anything about it. I spent a day sitting in the magistrates court, having to explain my story over and over again. Made to feel guilty for things that I had done that had little relevance to the situation or his behavior. I then had to stand on the pavement for an hour as the court closed for lunch as my papers had not yet been processed.  Only to be told that, because we lived in different cities, I would need to deliver the restraining order myself. The court system couldn’t be relied on. When I left to go home that day, I certainly didn’t feel like proclaiming #metoo from the rooftops. Instead, I went home and I cried and I hid under my duvet, lost and afraid. #Metoo is all very well, but it isn’t enough.

So where am I going with this? To be honest, I don’t really know. What I do know, however, is that in a world where rape has become a weapon of war and women are killed daily by their partners, a social media movement is just not going to cut it. In a time where a known sex offender is voted in as the leader of the free world, little girls go missing every day and many women have no access to electricity and education, let alone social media, time actually isn’t up.

We cannot allow a movement to further the shame of the very people it was created to help. A movement that is only accessible to the few. We have to take it one step further. We have to fight harder, scream louder and demand more, especially for those who aren’t in the position, regardless of the circumstances, to do it themselves. I can’t change the world, but I can call my friend and tell her that I don’t judge her for staying. That she is not alone. That I too have done the same. Perhaps that is the key. A slow building of confidence, leads to courage , which will help her to build the strength and resources to one day finally say, time’s up!

For information on how you can help or get help go to www. 



Moving forward

tinder heart open

So my days on Tinder have come to an end. I tried. I really tried. But I just couldn’t.

I suppose it’s like ordering a book online. You look at the cover, you read the blurb at the back, and then decide. The difference though, is that the book doesn’t judge you. The book doesn’t ask if you’re after a quick read or looking forward to the sequel too and the book doesn’t suddenly become the bible intent on saving your soul, which of course is bound for eternal damnation. Or, even better, tell you that it is actually currently being read by someone else, but that it doesn’t mind being read by multiple parties at the same time…WTF.

As an experiment I even told a few of them that I was married. That I had to go because my hubby was home or I had to get my six kids all under the age of seven into bed. They still wrote back. Asked if they could come over once the kids were down and husband was out. One even found me on Facebook after I deleted him and started sending me terrible messages about how he was going to tell said husband that I was on tinder. Seriously, I checked the house was locked three times last night, deactivated my Facebook account and slept with the light on.  I have visions of Columbine all over again.

I am trying hard not to see things as failures in 2018, but rather as lessons. So what have I learnt?

  • You can’t order a husband online
  • In the digital age anyone kind find you anywhere
  • People are scary and lonely.

People are really lonely. And, when you’re lonely, you do things that aren’t good for you. Things you wouldn’t ordinarily do. Things that you’ll look back on one day and cringe. Tinder is a dangerous place for the lonely heart. The heart that’s maybe a little too big for its own good. My heart in particular.

I did give my number to a few guys who seemed fairly normal. It was three guys to be exact and, let’s face it, normal is relative. We’ve exchanged the odd message and so far so good, but then yesterday the one seemed to have a bit of a panic attack when I suggested coffee (I would like to add here that I was merely following up on his original suggestion). I am not sure what happened, but he became all flustered and then disappeared. Maybe he too has a hubby at home and six kids under seven!

Other than that not much to report. My housemate has been away for a month and returned this morning unexpectedly. Alison and I had become a little slack with housework and laundry while she was away. So much so that I went to my friend for dinner last night in my pj’s and miss-matching slops. I was fairly stoked that I managed to find the right of one pair and the left of the other. Perhaps a sign that not all hope was lost.

We have spent the day furiously cleaning. To be honest, Alison was little help. Housework isn’t really her thing. She is far more into eating and sleeping. She did throw-up on my bed though, perhaps a silent protest to the fact that it hasn’t been made in the  last two weeks…

I’ll end off today with one of my favorite messages that I received yesterday. I still have a few more saved up for future posts!

Top marks for originality, a sincere little gem:

“Hi there, I know this profile is fake, but can I get the name of the model you used for your pics”

No Robert, you may not.





Yet another nose dive…


I chatted to someone I love very much yesterday and she was sad. Sad because another relationship had not worked out. Sad because did this mean she would be alone forever? Sad because this must mean that there is something wrong with her. Sad because she is lonely and would love a partner. Sad because being single is hard sometimes.

I didn’t know what to say… I wanted to tell her that of course she would meet someone. Without a doubt he is around the corner, in fact, I can hear his horse stampeding towards her. But, the truth is, I just don’t know. I can’t seem to figure out why some people get to meet their person and others don’t. I don’t understand how people I went to school with have managed to get married, divorced and remarried and I’m still on tinder. It doesn’t make sense to me.

So I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say that she would meet someone. I couldn’t promise her that it would happen. I couldn’t show her the future she dreams of. And, to be honest, I didn’t want to. What I wish more than anything is that I could show her the incredible light that she carries. The beauty that she possesses both inside and out. Her strength that amazes me daily. Her resilience and unwavering courage. Her kindness and her ability to love unconditionally.

I don’t know if she will ever meet someone, but what I do know is that she deserves to. And by God what a lucky guy he will be! Not some jerk who fits her into his schedule when it works for him and orders for her at a restaurant. Or tells her that it is unattractive when she stands up for herself. Perhaps the universe doesn’t push us into meeting the right one as much as it protects us when we escape the wrong one. Even when it hurts like hell.

So darling girl, straighten your crown and put on your lipstick, he did you a favor and it’s your turn to fly.

The single girl’s guide to Tinder…

Yes. I have done it. I have joined Tinder.

tinder 2

I thought, what the hell, everyone is doing it, right? And it was time to get out there, to put on my big girl panties and face the world of dating. To be 100% honest, I have been on tinder a few times, but I end up getting so irritated that I delete my account within a couple of days. Not this time, oh no, I am in this for the long haul. Well, a week at least.

Did you know that there is actually a book called, ‘The men’s guide to tinder – the essential manual for tinder, dating and hookups.’ I kid you not. Granted, you can download it for free on Amazon, so it’s obviously not a best-seller, but still, seriously, the essential manual…Do you need a manual for Tinder? I thought you just needed data, a Facebook account and Photoshop or a good filter.

So I have been on it for a little while now and I have even been on a date. Sadly, it was not the worst date I have ever been on, I’ve been on some stinkers, but it was pretty bad. It was with a guy that I actually knew from Varsity. I remember him as being quite smart and sweet and, so, when he asked me for a drink I agreed with enthusiasm. First mistake, do not do ANYTHING with enthusiasm on Tinder.

We met the other night and, I am not really sure what he was expecting, but he was annoyed from the moment I said hi. Now, this would be understandable if my Tinder photo was ten years old and I had since morphed into Shrek, but I purposely put up recent photos. I even put up a rubbish photo I had taken at work with my glasses on to avoid any surprises, but still he was super unfriendly. In summary this is how the evening went:

Pam: Hi. So nice to see you again.

Varsity boy: Hi 

(Pam desperately tries to think of conversation)

Pam: Gee, I am thirsty how about a drink?

Varsity boy: No thanks

Pam: Oh, okay, would you like to have some dinner?

(Granted as he said no to the drink, dinner was probably a push, but I was clutching a straws)

Varsity boy: I am hungry, but I am not going to eat 

WTF???? Okay, I can’t take it anymore. It was torture. Let’s just jump 30 minutes into the future to where he said:

Well, thanks for the chat, but I’m usually in bed by now and you’re keeping me up.

Yes folks, he accused me of keeping him up. It was 21h30.


The problem with Tinder, and I suppose all dating, is that if your confidence isn’t great a bad first date can really knock you. Instead of thinking what a flippen jerk I went home and cried to Alison, my cat. She was unsympathetic. She prefers me single. In fact she routinely used to throw up on the politician’s pillow, which in hindsight should’ve been a sign.

Anyway, after discussing it in detail with my friends, as one does, we all decided he was a rude jerk and that it wasn’t me or my thighs or the fact that I laugh at my own jokes and talk too much when I am nervous – for the love of God someone had to do the talking!! I still can’t help feeling a little scared though. I have now even put up a really average full-body pic just to avoid any surprises.

For now I have decided to persist, to be brave and to really really try not to take things personally. I will see how I go.

Oh, I’ve just received a message from Hendrik:

Hi Gorgeous, you are drop dead beautiful. I have just come out of a really long relationship so not looking for much just hot sex! 

Really Hendrik? Have you had much success with this approach?