07-Dec-2013 (Saturday)

6pm, central café

I approach the busy waitress as she rummages through the screen of a computerised till, unsure whether the banter had been tip-induced, plain good nature or a beacon of hope.
>>”Do you speak English?”
>>”I find you beautiful”
<< ” … Thanks?”


12pm, dining at a friend’s

The unforseen results of abhorring cliché conversations. The very pretty redhead is looking at me awestruck, though not for my discreet handsomeness I later suspect: I am a chick killer (as in baby chickens) and a foot fetichist, prematurely deviant on both accounts too…

“Will we meet again?” I ask myself


3am, city club

Bankrupt after first drink.


5am, night bus

The insight finally descends:
“I am not getting a girlfriend in the foreseeable future, am I?”



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