The saga of my hellacious dating experiences. A few weeks ago I met a guy at the dog park. He was drunk, but he was holding my all time fave alcohol, Bombay Sapphire, so I felt inclined to give him my number when he asked. He had to commit it to memory since neither of us had a pen. He didn’t call – whatever. I’m used to that. And frankly, I’ll live.
Tonight I was in line behind him at Safeway. It took me a while to place him because he had shaved his head. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. He was with his He/She girlfriend. It had beard stubble and long hair and breasts. Why me? I didn’t do anything bad to anyone, did I?