The other day I was being totally chic on Acland St with a friend of mine, lamenting the lack of gorgeous men in our lives, when all of a sudden, just to prove us wrong, a Gorgeous Man rides past us on his bike.
The utter honey-ness of this guy was such that whatever conversation we were having at that point was completely abandoned mid sentence as we stared at him with our jaws dropping, going so far as to turn our heads in sync to follow his path as he rode around the corner. We must have looked pretty damn stupid, but evidently noticeable, because before he disappeared he flashed a beautiful and brilliant smile before vanishing from our lives forever.
That’s right. Vanishing From Our Lives Forever.
We didn’t understand. We had smiled. He was all responsive and smiley back. So the next step for him was to obviously park his bike, buy us drinks, tell us about his work as a fireman, and then introduce us to his identical twin brother we knew he must have stashed somewhere.
WHY HADN’T HE DONE THIS? Was he stupid? We were so obvious we may as well have had a flashing neon sign that played a jaunty tune and declared in twinkling lights like a Christmas Tree, ‘Yes! We WILL sleep with you!’ while we danced naked on either side of it.
Then we realised. He wasn’t smiling at us. He was laughing at us.
“He is not really cute. He is cute in a way that ugly people are when they have an awesome personality.”
Wisdom in St Kilda
“I always thought Fitzroy boys were for me, but on the way here… I don’t know. I think I’m really liking what Windsor is putting out there.”
“Well boys from Windsor are like boys from Fitzroy… but they’re cleaner. They’re all like, ‘Yes, I have the tatts, yes I have the glasses and the hair… but I have MORE tatts! And I’m RICH!'”
The wisdom of two sisters.
Once upon a time I was going out with this guy. I won’t mention any names but it began with T and had an O and an M in it. Let’s call him Brian.
Anyway, so Brian and I are at the beach. This is the front beach at Sorrento, just outside of Melbourne. And it’s a cold, wintery day and no one else is on the beach and we’re having a somewhat romantic-ish walk* and I make an Exciting Discovery.
My Exciting Discovery is that the sand is perfect, Perfect, for sandcastle making.
As in the tide has made it all packed down but not too wet and not too dry just absolutely perfect amazing awesome sandcastle making sand.
Me: This is perfect sandcastle making sand!
Me: Let’s make a sandcastle!
And Brian looks at me and I look at Brian and I’m all excited and woooo yay! making sandcastles totally rocks and isn’t it exciting when you get to go back and be a little kid again and have an awesome time on a deserted beach on a wintery day with your gorgeous loved one and won’t this be an amazing memory to look back on when we’re old and grey telling our grandkiddies about the day we made a sandcastle together at Sorrento.
Brian: Um… don’t you think that’s a little childish?
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
The Exact Moment when I realised that Brian and I would never be old and grey together and what a relief that was.
*both of us are kinda just bored and cold but sticking with it cos we’ve heard this is what couples do.
Earlier I posted a photo like this:
As the reason I wanted red hair. And then I got red hair. And my other reason for my red hair was this: I wanted to corner a market.
You see, if a guy likes a redhead, he really likes a redhead, and I like to think I’m a pretty cute redhead. Not quite as cute as the one above but somewhat cute. So I’m all excited about really raising the stock price so to speak and coming out on top of the ranger game here.
I get a Facebook friend request. And this isn’t MySpace people, as far as I’m concerned you don’t befriend people on Facebook unless you’re actually friends with them or at the very LEAST have met them. And I’ll be fair, I’m not, by any means, actual friends with everybody on my Facebook page. But at least I’ve met them and I do regular culls.
So I get my Facebook friend request and it’s some RANDOM guy who attaches the following message:
Oh gal, i love red hair, show me show me.. redheads make the best glamour photos!! show me already!!! heeh.. hi.
EW EW EW EW EEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don’t know what’s worse, what he wrote or the grammar he used. Probably what he wrote.
The moral of this story is that I attract creepy men no matter what colour my hair is.
I have learned my lesson.
But still love my hair.