I enjoy romantic meals, walks on the beach and ‘insert generic sport here’. My favorite quality in men is humor, and they shouldn’t take themselves too seriously… For some reason, after having searched for ‘the one’ in all the nightclubs in Bournemouth, it turns out all the guys I hooked up with were narcissistic wankers, I just don’t understand my bad luck?!?!
I’m pretty sure there isn’t as contrived a collection of personals in the entire universe, and you have to consider that I am writing this as a note on Facebook.
Yes, every now and then there is a rare gem that sparkles out in the sea of womanly mediocrity, but advances on an internet dating site are a bit feeble… and I’m not sure my profile picture is as good as it could be, unless you girls are really after Chewbacca.
Still, I’ve had enough champagne tonight to lower my standards (I’m sure) and they all still appear grotesque and uninteresting. I now face resignment, perhaps I will actually have to brave a conversation with someone… and be lucky enough for them to be both interesting and equally interested.
No. I’m fucked.
Really, we’re all fucking fucked. (totally not the champagne talking)