UGH UGH UGH WHO IS TO SAYYYYYY
*10 mins later.*
*one glass of Chardonnay later.*
I’m really curious as a single lady who’s pretty good at striking up conversations with strangers and probably an ideal target for a Ted Bundy-esque serial killer, why can’t I ever pick up anybody who’s even moderately stable or in my league? I swear! I know it’s a cliche but it’s true that all the good ones are taken. And you know what? A lot of them are taken by HOMELY people. Yeah, I said it. HOMELY. And boring. And high maintenance. And not nice to servers. Which, if you’re not a dumpster fire of a human being should probably be a deal breaker. Or maybe she just looks like a mom. And not a milf, just an unattractive suburban mom. And that’s some weird Oedipus complex thingy and that’s on you.
I shower pretty regularly, I have good hair, and I intentionally sleep through meals to try and stay somewhat thin even if it’s in a doughy squishy way. I was told by Evelyn in jr. high how ugly, annoying, fat, and awful I am, and it took years of self-discovery and even an eating disorder to reconcile with the fact that that’s just not the case. So here I am, a confident dope lady, and yet, where are the suitors?
The gentleman callers?
I once did the gentleman caller scene from The Glass Menagerie in Acting class freshman year at my most malnourished and I sucked. Maybe that has something to do with it.
I’m gonna call my acting teacher.
Update: I just called my acting teacher. He doesn’t remember my scene, so that explains it.
Like, I shave my entire body including but not limited to my arms because TBH I might as well be Sicilian, and alas, what for? So that I can enjoy it while I masturbate alone to Enya and try to get my cat to leave me alone while I do so? UNSUCCESSFULLY? For naught.
I’m not saying I’m even ready to settle down. I’m not. I see y'all getting married and having babies and I have these two parallel tracks in my mind. The one track is like, “Oh my god! I’m so thrilled and excited for X! They are gonna be so happy! I am so happy they are so happy!” The other track is, “Oh fuck. That will never be me. If that were me, that would be a DISASTER.”
I know, I KNOW what you are thinking. That I should talk to a therapist about this.
I can’t afford one.
I need new headshots.
*Plays little violin. Stops and cries because she never learned how to play violin. She actually played trombone for two weeks and threw it against the wall even though it was a rental and quit and hates for herself for it a little.*
I don’t need someone to sit me down and tell me how rad I am. I don’t even need a boyfriend. But if I’m gonna have someone in my life even remotely along those lines, I want him to have my back and think I’m awesome and treat me the way Harry Hamlin treats Lisa Rinna. And also to not make fun of me if I miss some of my vagina hairs. Do YOU wanna pay for a wax?! I can’t even afford a SHRINKY DINK! And just let me fall apart. Like, shut up and let me fall apart. I would let you fall apart! I wouldn’t make you pay for the wax! And don’t recycle traditions you did with your ex. Because my ex boyfriend did that with his current girlfriend with our old traditions and if I found that out I would feel so icky. It may even be a deal breaker. I may even skin you alive.
I’m gonna go order thai food. I just can’t decide if I want chicken or tofu in my panang noodles………………………………………………