Everyday, and sometimes every 15 minutes, I’ll hear a little “bloop” come from my phone alerting me of a new email. Sometimes they’re date recaps from my girls, or links to new music from my boys. Other times it’s my landlord informing me of my utility bill, or a comment on WordPress. But most of the time it’s Goldstar, or Ticketmaster, or Living Social reminding me of how utterly SINGLE I am.
I swear if I get one more invite for a discounted “Romantic Mendocino Getaway for Two,” I may have to unsubscribe.
Because I love the idea of Swedish massages. Sailing the SF Bay. Outdoor rock climbing. The Wax Museum. And salsa lessons followed by tequila tasting. But even more so, I love the idea of doing all these things with someone I’m glitter and gay for.
Don’t get me wrong, if you couldn’t tell by now, AMAZING HAPPENS everytime me and my girls get together, but … it’s just … well, different obviously. ‘Cuz I wanna playfully smile, and wink at my man while we’re getting massaged. I want to lay my head on his shoulder when the sun sets over the bay. I want to brag and yell, “Hah, in your face bitch!” when I beat him up the mountain. I want to hold hands inside the Wax Museum. And I wanna do the dance of love, get drunk, and then do some horizontal dancing afterwards.
I know, I know, I’M SUCH A FUCKING SAP!
But whatever. It’s ok to not be ok sometimes, and don’t let anybody tell you any different. You are entitled to feel however you WANT to feel, as long as your feelings aren’t being dictated by someone else. So I’ll continue to have my sappy moment and feel sorry for myself for the next 15 minutes, but fret not.
Because today’s Living Social deal is dinner and a movie for two … to watch Bridesmaids. And me and my girl were just talking about that movie and have been dying for some adobo fried rice, and pandesal bread pudding.
Now if only they’d come up with a deal that consist of a 6-for-3 girls night out on the town complete with cut & color, mani/pedi, designated driver, enough booze to get us tipsy, and complimentary whore kit. You know, in case one of us all of us gets lucky too wasted and tired to go home.