So now I need to prove to Hans R that I’m single. I have uno toothbrush in my bathroom and 6 pillows on my bed .. does that work? I heard some guys on the radio describing multiple pillows on a bed as completing their view of hell – they felt it must be what is burnt to keep up the temperatures and complete the experience.
I’ll be honest though – I sorta-kinda-almost dated some fellow in my time away. A nice guy by all relevant standards, but the kind of relationship the universe rolls its eyes at while rapidly gesticulating, as though to an Eminem song, while asking; “Haven’t you learnt a thing since you started dating?!” It was just never meant to be.
I believe women throw the men they meet into boxes within a couple of seconds of meeting. There’s the shagable carton, databale pine box, lovable coffer, and the husband shrine. Then of course there’s the ever-constant “friend zone”. I for one have a lot of male friends – but it’s all good. Some are married so can only be friends. Others I’ve known all my life and are really good friends – but friends who climbed into that unidirectional zone so long ago, it would take the Enterprise’ beam to get them out.
Anyhoo, this particular fellow was friended and I was quite happy with it. We’d hang out and chat and I’d politely push back his advances. But Ah! Chineke! For the life of me, I can’t tell you how he weaseled his way into other receptacles (that’s not at all what I meant! Refer to boxes above!). One minute we’re having lunch and the next I’m planning the wedding and wondering if I’m too old to pull off a white gown. And where would our children go to school?
I don’t know. I have no explanation. It wasn’t me!
Long story short, it didn’t work out, and as though that wasn’t bad enough, I was dumped to boot. The universe should use flashing neon signs instead of being “subtle” with its indications on chances of relationship success: “RUN! RUN! RUN!”