In my efforts to forget about the fact that Vienna was supposed to land here on Friday, I had two dates this weekend. Candidate #1: 39 years old, works corporate like me, cute. Candidate #2: 25 years old, I don't think he has a job. But he's super hot so one can overlook that.
At the end of the day, both of them are just man-boys, like all of them are. It's been an endless rotation of Peter Pans and I'm getting sick of being Wendy. It happens all the time. I'm not sure what kind of aura I'm sending out to the Universe, but it seems to be this: If you're heartbroken, come this way. I'll feed you, bandage you up and send you off to the next girl, the one you'll be serious about.
I woke up early this morning and got on the subway and went to North York (I hate the subway and won't take it for most people). I hung out with Chris' family, my sorta family. T wanted to paint our nails so at the moment I'm typing with the worst manicure ever (she's 9, cut her some slack).
I should take it off because I can't go to work tomorrow with sparkly, bright pink nails. On the other hand, I don't want to take it off because this family is the only real, sincere thing I have here in TO. I have a couple of good girlfriends. But it's different from having a family.
So back to another recent post, I feel like it's time to move on. Get outta here. You're coming with me, right? :)
No comments:
Post a Comment