I hate daytime on weekdays. Except when I’m at the beach; and I usually ain’t.
I met two guys yesterday. I didn’t actually meet them for the first time, I already knew them, I just happened to see them again. I became aware of the fact they were flirting me which is inevitable if you’re the only single in a company of couples. What I hate about these things is how the couples conspire to ‘find you match’ but even more importantly, ‘a match’ that is already in their circle. It’s interesting how they see you as posing a threat for their couples’ world as if you can only hang out with them if you’ve got a plus-one. Ah Cypriot couples. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad if I actually liked one of them. But they were miles away from me liking them. At some point I caught myself scanning them wondering if they are as bad as they look in bed but I quickly pulled myself together and realised it was the hormones speaking. I blame the dream I had last night on the hormones too. No; the dream was not about them. Period. Then again, even if I did like them, the whole match-making thing spoils all the fun. If I want a fucking lollipop from the table I can take a fucking lollipop on my own, dude. I won’t wait until it’s offered to me on a plate. Ok. Maybe an unfortunate metaphor.
I had a friend inviting me to “go out on Wednesday night with other single gals and meet men”. The thing is, she ain’t single. She is almost married. She actually said “well, ok I ain’t single but it doesn’t mean I can’t look around”. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was gross. I hope she forgets all about inviting me.
Stay tuned for more action.