Last night I enjoyed Friday Pool Party/ happy hour with my colleagues. As I swam in the pool with the bride to be, fireworks shot up behind the towers. It was quite amazing actually to be in a pool, that high up, and have fireworks light up the sky right in front of your eyes.
Then of course, we went out dancing. The whole bunch of us. The bride-to-be's friends friend was having a birthday party and had some quite single boys.
I think Ive been out of the game too long, I was chicken shit and didnt even flirt even thought they were c-u-t-e. Opting instead to drink and dance with my friends like Ive been doing every weekend.
*sigh* (mental note to self: One cannot call oneself a serial maneater, if one does not have men, to serially eat).
Mr Chess was there. Wow, to say that it was awkward would be an understatement. I said hi to his girlfriend. And he stood there behind her looking at me. He acted like he didnt know me, even when I pulled him near, kissed him on each cheeck and said hello. Of course, knowing him I am in no doubt he wouldve blamed it on the alcohol. Ah well, I guess my post-fling assessment was right. He is indeed a coward.
Hahaha, even weirder was that our mutual friend was there, watching us interact. Probably replaying the whole time, that one time he had caught Mr Chess kissing me. I said my peace, said hello and left.
Continued dancing the night away with the friends.
Do you remember the man that was mentioned on my previous blog? the deja-beau? Apparently what the prodigy had called The Italian look-alike?
Well it turns out, he looked nothing like The Italian and had a lot better manners. (though he did slap me last night. That Bastard). Well Deja-beau and I have gotten along splendidly well. We click and jive and all that jazz. I love that this white guy is so local he knows how to order local dishes, speaks like a local and acts like a local.
Well last night, I also requested he act as my fake bf just in case the ex came around.
On the way home, he asked me about the ex, and I told him almost everything.
He called me cold, slapped me on the shoulder and labeled me the agent of satan.
I cracked up like an insane woman... what?! it was funny!
And I realized how right he was. I am cold. I really dont care anymore. I guess I have taken the extreme of my therapists advice and just stopped caring about everyone.
A planned tryst with Eccentric might get me back in the game.
But for now, I kept on thinking, I have to keep growing. Myself, inside and out. So I messaged the sculptor and asked him to take me out tomorrow. To show me art.
After all, in a few months, I shall be immortalized forever in a painting. I might as well understand its value.
On a hop skip and a jump today, I ended up dropping as much money as I did last weekend. I swear, shopping with my mother is like having the agent of shopping satan come visit me.
Then of course, we went out dancing. The whole bunch of us. The bride-to-be's friends friend was having a birthday party and had some quite single boys.
I think Ive been out of the game too long, I was chicken shit and didnt even flirt even thought they were c-u-t-e. Opting instead to drink and dance with my friends like Ive been doing every weekend.
*sigh* (mental note to self: One cannot call oneself a serial maneater, if one does not have men, to serially eat).
Mr Chess was there. Wow, to say that it was awkward would be an understatement. I said hi to his girlfriend. And he stood there behind her looking at me. He acted like he didnt know me, even when I pulled him near, kissed him on each cheeck and said hello. Of course, knowing him I am in no doubt he wouldve blamed it on the alcohol. Ah well, I guess my post-fling assessment was right. He is indeed a coward.
Hahaha, even weirder was that our mutual friend was there, watching us interact. Probably replaying the whole time, that one time he had caught Mr Chess kissing me. I said my peace, said hello and left.
Continued dancing the night away with the friends.
Do you remember the man that was mentioned on my previous blog? the deja-beau? Apparently what the prodigy had called The Italian look-alike?
Well it turns out, he looked nothing like The Italian and had a lot better manners. (though he did slap me last night. That Bastard). Well Deja-beau and I have gotten along splendidly well. We click and jive and all that jazz. I love that this white guy is so local he knows how to order local dishes, speaks like a local and acts like a local.
Well last night, I also requested he act as my fake bf just in case the ex came around.
On the way home, he asked me about the ex, and I told him almost everything.
He called me cold, slapped me on the shoulder and labeled me the agent of satan.
I cracked up like an insane woman... what?! it was funny!
And I realized how right he was. I am cold. I really dont care anymore. I guess I have taken the extreme of my therapists advice and just stopped caring about everyone.
A planned tryst with Eccentric might get me back in the game.
But for now, I kept on thinking, I have to keep growing. Myself, inside and out. So I messaged the sculptor and asked him to take me out tomorrow. To show me art.
After all, in a few months, I shall be immortalized forever in a painting. I might as well understand its value.
On a hop skip and a jump today, I ended up dropping as much money as I did last weekend. I swear, shopping with my mother is like having the agent of shopping satan come visit me.
