It has been a great summer. I’ve been walking with Hypatia, losing weight faster as a result, and have gotten over Hannibal. I got a kind of object lesson from reconnecting with an old acquaintance who apparently prefers a certain kind of hoe. So one night, at a pub, I got the visual display of the lesson I needed to learn in stereo with him on one side of the bar, and Hannibal on the other, making the same mistake. That settled things in my mind.
Hypatia still wanted us to get together, but I explained to her that even though I was wrong to have been a bitch to him, he was just as wrong to be overly flippant about me. He may be independent, but he’s been broken by the times. He’s grown to enjoy the chaos and help it along by donating sperm to the cause of creating either nothing or underparented cretins. I hope his son is stronger than him.
So my interest in him is now like a concerned cousin. The romantic hopefulness evaporated that night. Funny that just as it did, I attracted the attention of a very hot young lady. She saw me at the bar, and just felt she had to come up and get a hug, so I gave her one.
I was tempted to see how far I could take that, but she had this curious straight girl vibe, and I didn’t want to be her way of getting back at her boyfriend for pressuring her into a threesome or something. So I didn’t follow through with seduction. What’s funny is that she’s exponentially hotter than either of the two hoes Hannibal or the other guy were chatting up. I had a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile on my face the rest of the night.
I might keep her on the gift list if I have a snowball’s chance with Warren. I’m calling him that because his looks remind me of Warren Beatty. I met him about 5 years ago when I was dating an acquaintance of his. He still had that frogginess of youth back then, but now he’s all grown up. We ran into each other at the same pub. My mouth was making smalltalk, but I’m sure my eyes were saying, “Du riechst so gut…”
He might cause me to break at least two promises I made to myself.
