My Accidental Escape from a Marriage Proposal – Episode 1

Champagne Problems and Secretarial Woes

When your “plan” is to find a husband with a plan…

Let’s start with the basics:
After four years of being in a relationship with a man who made it crystal clear he’d never marry me—like, bold underline, all-caps, skywritten by a plane clear—I finally walked away. Heartbroken and with nowhere else to go, I dragged my tail back to Durban and back into my parents’ house. They never approved of him (they were right, of course), and they were also very religious… and I had spent the last few years living like someone actively trying to dodge both God and good decisions.

To top it off, I’d quit my job that morning—sent a dramatic message to the attorneys saying I’d never be back. So there I was: unemployed, emotionally wrecked, and back under the roof of people who would’ve fainted if they knew even half of what I’d been up to in Joburg.

Let’s just say returning home was humbling. Champagne lifestyle? Please. Durban didn’t even offer a bubbly on a budget version of the life I’d been living.

I was broke. I was bitter. And I was working for my mother.

Not exactly the opening line of a bestselling autobiography, but we’re being honest here.

At this point in my life, my career goals could best be summed up as:
“Marry someone with ambition so I don’t have to develop any.”

it’s not that I was lazy—I just didn’t know what to do with myself.
Well, besides chasing men with red flags and stabbing myself in the eye every morning trying to nail that darned winged eyeliner.
(And still walking out the door looking like a raccoon with commitment issues.)

By day, I was a secretary in my mom’s office, which was every bit as soul-sucking as it sounds.
By night, I was on a romantic scavenger hunt for someone—anyone—to rescue me from myself.

Spoiler: that person never showed up.
(Unless you count that one guy who thought a packet of biltong was a suitable birthday gift. I do not.)

My salary? Laughable.
My expenses? Mostly overpriced cocktails and late night dinners with my girlfriends.
Rent wasn’t a concern—I lived at home—but somehow, I was still financially gasping for air every month.

You’d think partying four nights a week on a shoestring budget would slow me down, but oh no.
I just became really, really good at eating crackers for dinner.

Then came The Call.

Dramatic pause. Cue hopeful violin music.

Out of nowhere, I got a phone call from Duncan—an attorney I used to work for at a fancy law firm back in my more “respectable” days (read: before fleeing the city like a dumped contestant on The Bachelor).

Duncan was a quiet, serious man, older than me, and very professional…and very short.
Think legal version of a little Mr. Rogers – minus the cardigans…and the full head of hair.
I’d always appreciated how kind he was, especially the night we both had to stay at work until 2 a.m. helping a millionaire matriarch rewrite her will out of pure spite.
(She was leaving nothing to her family and everything to her cats. You think I’m kidding.)

When I ghosted that job post-breakup meltdown, Duncan was the only one who called to say goodbye.
No guilt. No passive aggression. Just kindness.

So when he rang again—months later—I was genuinely happy to hear from him.

We chatted. Caught up. Laughed a little.
He said the firm missed me. I said something self-deprecating and charming, probably while sitting in my pajamas at 2 p.m. eating toast.

Then the calls kept coming.
Once a week.
Then every other day.

And then?

Duncan had a business idea.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is where our story really begins.

🛎️ Coming Next: Episode 2: The Wooden Bowl Hustle and Hope in a Suitcase

International dreams, backseat naps, and the hangover that nearly ruined everything.

Subscribe so you don’t miss a moment of this wild tale, or drop a comment below:
💬 Ever tried to find meaning at the bottom of a wine glass? Same.
Let’s swap notes.

💬 Note from the Author

I want to pause and say—this isn’t a story I share with pride. Especially not the parts about my wild lifestyle or the choices that led me down a path I now see so clearly for what it was: a slow unraveling. I was chasing validation, fun, escape… but mostly, I was running—from God, from truth, and from myself.

I tell this story not just to entertain (though yes, parts are laugh-out-loud ridiculous), but to offer a quiet warning wrapped in real-life mess. If you’re reading this and something inside you whispers, ‘this feels familiar‘, please know you’re not alone. You don’t have to figure it all out by yourself.

If any of this hit close to home and you need someone to talk to—someone who’s walked that road and turned around—I’m here. I’d be honored to walk alongside you.

See you in Episode 2!!