After sleepless nights and a shelf of ‘little mothers helpers’; I decided to go the way of the blind date. I am thinking this will be my ticket to the bounce back. However, the cross over from blind-date-material to casual-sex-partner is apparently massive. Similar to crossing the grand canyon on a sheer thread of integrity. After taking about 10 different angle looks, I decided that this would not be for me. Even after chugging 4.5 glasses of cheap-acid-bar-wine, I still couldn’t make the cross over. Moreover, it still felt like I was wearing a sweater made of hair. Thank god, the goatfucker ex doesn’t live in this city. My luck I would walk right into him and his new lovely addition. Them both gleaming in all their new found glory. Me, with jogging pants on, a weeks stack of movie rentals under my arm, getting off the bus, with a huge oversized puss ball zit on my face. Would be fucking fantastic. Instead I walked out of the bar alone, and literally almost got clipped by a taxi.

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