by nature i am not a girlie girl. pearls and pinks do not come easy to me. i only wear new underwear because the mother in my head tells me: What if there was an accident, and they saw you wearing old grannie panties? i put on makeup sparingly even though my home is a veritable museum of every color, powder, cream, plucker, trimmer, waxer shampoo conditioner, liner and lipstick known to woman (and quite a few men too). the only reason why i am not an uncharted forest of hairs for most of the year, is because i abhor the yucky thingies. if i am on a dinner with a date, it always turns out i have ordered the messiest stuff, which then i will try to eat elegantly and ladylike-y. no comment.
in short, effort does not come to me naturally and this dating business is a lot of effort. i mean why do i have to squeeze into the control top panties/chastity belt for a man i do not know? and perish the thought of not having the perfect blowdry. it is a well-established fact that curly hair is daticide. so are unplucked eyebrows. in short, i discover that to get a man i might or might not want, i have to put on my armor and go into battle.
identity crisis. what am i fighting for here? i am not getting any tonight (control panties remember?) and neither is he. our phone conversation with its too long silences, unflattering jokes (which i laughed at anyway) and frequent background noise are not a good sign either. and i do not think this is the father of my future children, more like the guy whose daughter my son would never ever ever date.
“well maybe he is not that bad. besides, he is the only one with a car, own place, job and teeth, and no wife”. and just for this maybe, for this sliver of hope, i have to pull out my high heels that heat up his libido but blister both my pinkies. the math just does not jive here. so maybe i have to draw up a list, to sort of remind me of all the goodies i am hopefully getting out of this. a jump-start so to speak, something to bring my sexy back.
and this is all i could come up with: