Started the day with a run, but i got half way up my drive and wished i had worn my other heels. (Sad face.) Therefore I decided to ‘take that and rewind it back,‘ with is a rather stupid way of me saying, ‘i just went back inside.’ Running’s not my thing. I don’t even run when being chased. People just know not to mess with me. I strut…slowly and in heels, diamonds, push up bras and eyelashes. There’s no chasing this bitch. Unless you’re chasing me up the ladder of Greatness? Then ofcourse you’ll never catch me. I’ll always be ten steps ahead. You’ll be staring at my arse, all the way up that thing. And i warn you….i eat beans. (Did i really just litter my blog with a crap ‘i eat beans, so i fart joke?’) I’m losing my touch. Don’t read this shit! ‘OOh laaa’ Baby!
So ‘Latin Lover’ and i had a lovely chatty McChat yesterday. We lovingly thumbed through our misty watercoloured memories, as he went on about how much he admires me (my favourite subject) even though his Mother hates me. His Mother would prefer it if i were some donkey, who scrubs gussets, bakes sponges and wear oven gloves with every outfit. I’m a bit too ‘flashy flashy, wink wink’ for her liking. (Punished for the crime of ‘Ooh laa.’ I tells ya!) She’s a good woman though.
Anyway,other than that…i’m getting a lot of offers to be ‘Trophy wife’ right now. It’s odd, as i always hear boys say, ‘oh i don’t want her to use me, for who i am, or what i have.’ (Ooh heaven forbid.) Yet when i date them, one of the first things they suggest is that i stay home, give up my life and start enjoying there’s and immediately. They like a ‘Trophy’..especially sports men. I guess, because they are used to winning prizes in the form of them. It means they’ve done good. Now i think about it, it’s hardly ever the ‘boy’ who cares about being taken advantage of. They don’t care at all, as long as you’re good to them..When you dump them, is when they care. (Obviously!) I personally don’t like the idea of being ‘trophy wife’ (and note i have been a trophy wife.) Yet it’s only because for some reason, along with boredom, i become highly destructive and start wanting to knock plant pots off balconies and smash windows with chairs.
So i’m going on a date tonight. Earlier today i was running some errands, and i spied a shirtless jogger. (Woo-hoo!) I was sitting on a wall taking a phone call, and he needed someone to hold his water bottle, whilst he went on a quick sprint. Not sure why, but he left it in the hands of ‘The Wunna,’ with a smile. I agreed to take care of it, with all my life, but really i just dumped it on the side and talked to girls who were asking me about Paris.
I had to leave, and i was tired of guarding a water bottle, so i wrote ‘Had to go’ and my number on it. He called about 7 minutes later. So i asked if he wanted to do dinner tonight…on me. I do this sometimes. I don’t fancy him. It’s not a love connection. I mean he’s great eye candy and looks like a laugh. I just fancied going on a date and on my terms. I needed someone to ‘food’ with me and he knows it’s just food. And that my darlings is how it is done! 😉