I came home tonight and promptly put on my flannel pj pants, threw my hair up in a bun, tossed my new purple bra somewhere in my closet (which I’ll probably forget about and wonder if it’s been lost at a boy’s house, if said boy existed) and started stuffing my face with cheez-its while I awaited my healthy dinner of steamed broccoli. When all of a sudden there was a knocking at my front door. Mind you, nobody stops by unexpectedly. But now that it did happen one time, and it only takes that one fucking adorable time… I’m forever fucked and my head is stuck in the alternate universe of an awful stalker rom com… So anyway, I have no reason to think anyone that I know would be knocking at my front door but for about two seconds, I thought maybe, just maybe…. it’s “Joe” (obviously not his name) who has come to say he’s sorry and he made a mistake to ever let me go. But no, of course not. No. It was just the frickin neighbor with the dirtiest looking feral cat, asking if it was my cat. Although it looks like I should have a cat (no offense to my beloved cat ladies out there, more on that later), lookin’ sexy AF in my flannel pajamas with cheez-it orange dust on my sweatshirt… No, not my cat. So not only did I not get a cute kitten to cuddle with, my neighbors have seen me at my absolute best, AND it wasn’t Joe. And I mean, why would it be because he has been nothing but crystal clear (unresponsive) about his feelings and that it’s over. Further disappointment that could have been completely avoidable if the neighbor with some stranger’s cat hadn’t come knocking… If I didn’t live in an apartment, I would consider forking the lady’s yard. And why is any of this her fault, because it’s not… She’s just a nice lady trying to find the kitty’s home. She’s good people and I commend that since my cat ran away and never came back…. However, it was an unwelcome knock on my day. But I digress.
Also in today’s dating website adventures: Cute, nice pilot boy (seems like a good job for adulting), sends me a message… Something like hey gurl, I like your smile. After a few flirty exchanges, he asks what I’m looking for…. So I say, well nothing super serious but I suck at casual (because that game really takes more effort than I feel necessary or can handle mentally) so how about we see what happens… Response: “Honestly I’m looking for a master/slave relationship… I need a submissive woman…” Whoa whoa whoa there buddy…. Now I wasn’t rude about it, just said not for me, sorry (not sorry). But TBH… here’s some advice, Seth… Maybe don’t just throw THAT out there, you gotta warm up to it… Right?? Or go on a website that’s dedicated to coordinating that sort of situation (isn’t Craigslist for that). And really, most girls read 50 Shades, and granted some dudes got lucky on account of their ladies reading bedtime porn stories and feeling frisky… But really, that’s so 2012. Try another angle because your name ain’t Mr. Grey and you don’t live at Escala… although I may consider it, if you did. That would really make my commute to work so awesome if you did… Kidding. Mostly. No really. Deal Breaker.