As you are likely aware, I have been single for a while now. Yes, it’s pathetic. Like, seriously, look at me… I can’t get a date?? LOL I kid, I kid…
I just haven’t met anyone locally who I am interested in… plus, what do I mean by “locally”? Hey, I’m in Central Ontario…. what happens once I move?
Plus, I don’t know when or where I’m moving to. It presents a dating dilemma.
But I digress. Yes, I’ve been asked out a few times, but I have had no real interest. I am just not “engaged” with any particular local gentleman’s (term used loosely) personality.. at least not thus far. I enjoy debate, good conversation, flirtatious chit chat. None of which is happening with any of those “gentlemen” who have asked thus far. And oddly enough, many are NOT in my “age group”.. I keep getting hit on by 27 year olds in the bar (not like I’m in the bar a lot, but every time I am…)Seriously, it’s a concern. The only boys that seem to like me are either way too old for me (in attitude, not actual years..cause like, I’m about 15 in my head.. oh make that 19.. I like liquor… ) or far too young.
Which brings me to this… why the hell do I keep shaving? For some bizarre reason, even though I have no chance of a romantic encounter of any type each day, I continue to shave. It seems fruitless. Yet, I continue to do it. I have dark hair and white skin (it’s that combo of Irish and Lithuanian heritage..) and therefore have always been conscious of hair growth and thus feel the need to continually shave. But I do it poorly.
I suck at it. You think with all the practice I’ve had I’d be better.. I think it’s because I’m impatient.. as well as I know I’m the only one who is going to appreciate the silky smoothness of my freshly exfoliated and hairless skin. *sigh*. Therefore I rush. And therefore my white bathrobe looks like a piece of evidence from the crime lab. Seriously. It is disgusting and now in the washing machine as we speak. I just cannot get through a shower without hacking up my legs. My lovely alabaster skin is covered in various stages of cuts, scrapes and scabs as we speak (oh, that is SEXY. That is TOTALLY going to get me a boyfriend…)
But, I can’t stop. I can’t even go a day without shaving. It’s a conundrum, really. I think I should obviously be one of those girls who waxes, but that’s a whole other problem.. First off, I just can’t let the hair grow long enough.. Plus, the one time I attempted to wax anything south of the equator I ended up bruising myself so badly I looked like I had been beaten with a bag of oranges.
Oh well. I may be scarred up a bit, but at least I don’t look like the offspring of Sasquatch and Cousin It…..
Life: Things are good. Nothing major to report.
Love: Even less to report here.
Pants: Headed to the Y now. I will keep said pants on in the changeroom lest someone mock my many nicks and cuts and Hello Kitty bandages.