It’s Raining Men
Ok, um, I got laid again.
Yeah, really–but it was a totally new/ different guy, Apt #49, someone I met at the pool party (who was not especially noteworthy, but he didn’t ask what I was doing tomorrow or what I wanted to name our fifty babies, so he was all right in my book).
[And yes, I do have more involved/intricate feelings than this, but frankly I don’t want to look at them right now. Feelings suck. I hate discussing how I feel, which is why I’m bitter on the inside, or so I’m told. Eh. I actually think I’m very introspective which is why I go through chronic depression–you try looking at yourself in all your ugliness and tell me how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed you come out of it. But I digress. ]
Sooooo–Hmm. Interesting, methinks. And there’s another guy who’s throwing himself out there to be next at bat before he leaves to go back to Kansas City in a couple days. I actually enjoy him because he’s in a “competing” industry and we were trash-talking all afternoon, which was kinda hot.
So—apparently all you have to do is get the first one and then after that they’re tripping all over themfuckingselves to get to you. Perhaps it is because the scent of pussy has been released?
All rightie, duly noted.
