Listening to: Devils and Gods
Tori Amos

Me loves being surrounded by sweaty men and shiny toned women.
If only because it makes me less likely to slack on the treadmill because then who'd look like the 'tard then? Even if they are the ones with the vpl (or vbl).

I've put on so much damn weight that i can feel my ass shaking when i run (stumble) for all of those seconds, and though i can't quite balance a coffee cup on it a la j.lo yet, it really does feel too good to move regularly like this again! Squeal, cheerleader kick, swirl! Not so much of a resolution as a real need to get back into shape before i hit any more 0's in my birthday.

Course it helps confirm that i'm alive, sometimes i feel so deadened to anything that i wonder. Hmm. Diagnosis- general keratonisation of the self. Cause? Datingitis.

I know, i know, i've been out of play for so long, what with being in game for so long that i've forgotten the basics and relied on the other team lobbing easy shots. Now that i actually have to do the try outs again i find myself cringing with the possible outcomes. What happens if the next person is a sloppy kisser? What happens if he doesnt like my ass? I don't think i have the patience, tenacity nor courage to deal with all this again.

It's certainly nothing like bicycle riding. I have nothing in my arsenal that even resembles date behaviour.

The thought of getting to know someone all over again, having to play nice, get used to the bugger AND another ego, is frankly, beyond me right now. . I'd rather stay at home and play scrabble. Or go out and stay secure in friend zone, bitch and not have to feel apologetic if i happen to snort fizzy drinks out of my nose if i laugh too hard. Not that it has happened, of course. I have more fun listening to my friends exclamations during the waxing sessions then i do trying to make conversations with some guy.

Besides, the last guy who impressed me with his manners was when i was busy being a fag hag. Lovely men, lovely manners, all shrieking no in unison when i asked them to just treat me as one of the guys. My bad. Stupid question.

My only conclusion is that, i will fall in love at the age of 60, to the muddled widower next door who still has his hair. Or to the 52 cats that i will be allergic to but still feed out of my pension allotments. Hopefully i have enough cpf, muhaha.