Thursday 10th Jan. Still single.
Was hoping to be writing about my new man, Tom, but the fucker decided to run off after our date last night.
FUCKER!
Had so much fun (note to self: too much fun? Is this bad?) and felt like we really clicked. Disgracefully, let him shag me on our first date. Am dreadful old sleazy floozy.
Obviously was not hard enought to get, as once he'd got he legged it.
Did I give him my number? Can't remember. Damn, damn, damn.
Ha. Will ignore him if (when?) he calls, and pretend have many other gorgeous possible dates after me. That'll teach him. He will then keep calling me and professing undying love. Need to work on my sexy rejection voice for the first few calls.
(Later)
Unless (horrible thought!) he calls round. FUCK! He might turn up on the doorstep, calling for me! I look like shit!
Need a serious grooming session...my hair is a disgrace!
(Much later, much, much later)
Oh, what's the point?
Fuck it.
Where's those sardines?
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1 comment:
Oh I don't care what kind of night it's been, ain't nothin' bad enough to turn to sardines. blech.
if he calls and wants another date, then this time you up and leave...like in the middle of sex...that'll teach 'em.
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