I missed the bus!

Today I was jamming to a golden oldie from a former favourite. Mack Daddy was retelling the tale of how he and Daddy Mack had “missed the bus”. This I relate to, on a very different level. You see, I missed the bus or rather, the ship. Word on the streets is that this particular ship comes around every two years or so. Unlike its more frequent counterpart, the friend-ship, which is constantly docking, the ship of relations is limited to the selected few with exclusive notifications from the secret society. This secret society was founded in the late 90’s, after several sunken ships were reported and the relation-ships were declared endangered. The twenty-first century has seen an alarming rise in reported cases of sunken ships, and the numbers of those brave enough to board are rapidly declining. According to recent unofficial surveys, the ships are losing popularity because of reviews by those with negative past experiences. They are most frequently criticized for being time-consuming and frustrating, often taking detours and unexpected turns on the seemingly smooth journeys. Ironically, the sinkings seldom occur when skies are grey, as BMW (baby making weather - for those of you with a less inspired acronym vocabulary) increases the efficiency of the vessels. They are most likely to happen on sunny days when hearts have melted and heads are hot.
For me and my fellow DPGs, rainy days have become painful reminders of old sunken ships and often induce frustrated sighs of longing and heart-ache. I have witnessed many a rainy day when minus ones are re-convened by a common loneliness and roam the streets (LBD’s and stilettos adorned), in search of the city’s pulse… hoping that perhaps it will provide a reason to go on. Ironically, the Cape of Good Hope is the city that offers the thinnest serving of hope. After almost two tedious years of single-to-fucking-mingle in the heart of inspiration, there is little indication that the state of affairs will improve. Not only is there a critical shortage of eligible men, but relationships are as fictional as four-leaf clovers. The only reason we have not hosted a mass-suicide is because we are only at the beginning of our lives. There are mountains to be explored and lands to be conquered, life has only just begun. Crap.