A little birdy told me recently that single people have about 186 conflicting thoughts about love every day.
I think I might have just about that amount.
I know I have already touched upon this subject but I am actually astounded as to the rate at which young lovers are shacking up in these winter months.
Is it because it is one of the coldest we have had in a while?
Or is it that cupid has descended over Australia as a country?
I wonder if the little cherub actually exists.
And where the bloody hell is he?
One of my friends who is known as the 'Samantha' to our group of friends has even fallen into the beautiful trap that love is.
These conflicting thoughts range from the farthest reaches of the spectrum and back again when it comes to me.
Some days I couldnt believe that I would want to be anything but single and living "free" whatever that means. I suppose free to plan without thinking of anyone else and living out whatever I want whenever that may be.
Then other days I think that perhaps getting tangled up in the vines with someone else wouldnt be too bad.
It is a constant whirlpool of redundant thoughts with no real outcome but I cant stop the thoughts as if my head and my heart are schizophrenic gladiators who are fighting to the death in the colosseum that is my body.
HEAVY.
But I am sort of holding on to the edge of my seat to see what happens in the months that follow all this sickeningly sweetness that is filling the air around me. No wonder Im always short of breath.
I suppose this being the longest time I have been single in my life since I was 16 might have something to do with feeling like a quiet observer (sometimes even a peeping tom pervert without even meaning to).
This love shit has made me feel a bit like I just ate 20 kilograms of fairy floss however. I am growing a bit tired of the gushing stories about how sweet he is, or the things that are shared and said.
I know I sound like a bitter old spinster cow who hasnt been milked in five years (ha ew), but it is just getting a tiny bit too much.
Im dying to hear just a flat out dirty ass story about how someone fucked a chick and she came all over the walls or something.
Might be a bit too much, maybe, but you get the idea. Single stories are the best!
No one wants to hear about how five dozen violet roses were sent to you at work and you spent the whole day deciding which twice baked mother of pearl frosted cupcake to eat first, then you went home to the dude who obviously has no money or balls left, but he still took you out to thai and then you went home and snuggled so hard that you both got hemorrhoids. But it was cute because the next day we went to the doctors holding hands and then went home and applied each others creams.
I want to hear about some man-whore who not only took you of your dignity, but made you go all the way to pluto and back without leaving the back of his van. Then you walked home with hair that looks like an eagle laid an egg in your hair, make up down to your ankles, heels in hand and gravel in feet,
but a big fucking smile on your face.
No comments:
Post a Comment