My regular drinking hole (a Bollywood bar no less) celebrated its birthday a little while back and I was invited. I went with a friend and had a blast. The drinks were free and flowing... and I was surrounded by hipsters that didn't even look like they were old enough to drink. The only person I knew there was this old man that always comes in for a glass of red wine with his dog.
Somewhere during the evening my friend proposed to me on his behalf. Or something. Now he (a widower probably in his 70s) keeps texting me, asking me to join him in taking the dog out. I hope he means dog and not, say, his penis.
One of the guys from the camera crew I was working with for the documentary about that rock band has started texting me too. He quotes the most obscure authors. And tells me he has a crush on me.
And then there's the guy whose child the documentary was. I'm supposed to start another project with him, but I'm not too excited about it. I'm still not sure I trust him. Now there has been a rambling e-mail from him too. At 4 am. Telling me he's in love with me. In CAPS LOCK.
I guess I'm supposed to flattered with all this attention. But I'm not. And not just because they're all a bit...weird. Is this it? Is this what the dating market has to offer? Has my stock slumped this bad?
I grew tired of having no say in the relationship with The Man and how everything, including the future was always on his terms. But now I can't help but wonder... was that still better than the future I'm facing now?
A friend was over a little while back and commented how my fridge looks like it belongs to a cat lady. She also demanded to know if I eat anything that doesn't come in a box. Well, no. I need something to to balance my diet of cigarettes and alcohol so I've rekindled my affair with the pizzadelivery. After all it is the one functional male relationship in my life I can't afford to lose.
So... in a dating woes where does one turn to for advice? In my case either a Facebook psychic or TV. And as a role model the Dowager Countess of Grantham is a tough one to beat.
And hers is the advice I shall strive to follow from now on: "don't do defeatism, dear. It's so middle class."
A friend was over a little while back and commented how my fridge looks like it belongs to a cat lady. She also demanded to know if I eat anything that doesn't come in a box. Well, no. I need something to to balance my diet of cigarettes and alcohol so I've rekindled my affair with the pizzadelivery. After all it is the one functional male relationship in my life I can't afford to lose.
So... in a dating woes where does one turn to for advice? In my case either a Facebook psychic or TV. And as a role model the Dowager Countess of Grantham is a tough one to beat.
And hers is the advice I shall strive to follow from now on: "don't do defeatism, dear. It's so middle class."
As a walking freak magnet (I've been hit on whilst waiting at a zebra crossing), I don't blame you for being a little weirded out by some of these advances. I would like have made a polite excuse before running off screaming in the opposite directions.
ReplyDeleteFor some reason I tend to attract weirdos even worse when I'm feeling blue. It's like they can sense sadness, or something. I'm certain that once you start feeling better, the talent will start to look more promising too :)