Sometimes being single in NYC feels like cruel and unusual punishment. The breed of males we are subjected to seem almost inhuman at times (No offense, if you are a single male reading my blog--I probably love you). On Friday night, I was out on the town, when a friend asked me if I had a tampon that she could use. A gentleman lingering nearby, oversaw this exchange--and said to me, "Uhhh--how's your period going?" EXCUSE ME!? How's my period going? How's your boner going? If this is your freakish way of making conversation, then you need to attend a social skills group with my 3rd graders, stat.
As the night progressed, I met a gentleman suitor who tickled my fancy. All signs were pointing to yes, until our fateful cab ride home. He turned to me and said, "hang on a sec--I just gotta call my roommate. His end of the conversation sounded like this: "Hey mom, it's me. (MOM!?!) Is it okay if I bring a friend over?" Yeah, okay, see you soon--love ya!"
Me: (to the cab driver), that will be two separate stops, thanks.
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