or, Wishes Are Horses, Again
Falling in Love: I met a HOTT French guy who seemed, hallelujah, not prententious. Ran into him by chance out one night with him and his friends. Lusted over him and friends, as in, wanted him to be my boyfriend so I could have a cool group of ready-made French friends. Yesss. Got invited out by one of his friends to this gypsy performance art space/bar. He was there and basically ignored me. I got shot down, dropped, laissé tomber-ed. Lost the man, AND, more sadly, the friends.
Like I said, pushed off that amorous building.
Some of you, my dear readers, have accused me of using the word "hence." I have no recollection of that whatsoever.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment