…so I went out on this dinner date recently. It was my older cousin and his girlfriend. His girlfriend brought along a single friend who she thought would get along with me.
After the *wink wink* from my cousinβs girlfriend confirmed the point, or rather, theΒ obliquely-angledΒ purpose of the dinner I settled in and made myself comfortable with the undercurrent dynamics of the table.
She was a genuinely nice southeast asian Indian girl and comes from a wwwwonderful stable family. A year older than me, she has a decorated educational background; actuarial sciences at – from what I was told by my good Canadian friend who I also consider a brilliant wingman – an eminently prestigious Canadian university. She also had a very attractive face β at least to me. And her graceful maturity was onnnly somewhat overshadowed because she was mildly on the portly side.
but hey! it’s fine, really!
you know…in the right setting and timing, I can definitely appreciate a little extra chicken with my tikka masala (ok, I know this is strike one) π
I know that it would have been more print-worthy and exciting if she turned out to be a total biblical leviathan but she was genuinely nice and β again βΒ VERY attractive. Itβs just that, at this point, what exactly is….the point?
Iβm doing….my own thang
and Iβm sure she has plenty of opportunities to do….her own thang
so..likeβ¦whatΒ thangΒ is actually getting….thangβed??? (i know, strike two π)
I guess myΒ thangΒ analysis broadcasted itself telepathically. We all ate our filling meals discussing friendly stuff before eventually breaking off into mini conversations, me with my cousin…
..and the two ladies probably speaking in WWII Navajo code about how is it possible I’m enjoying myΒ steak au poivreΒ (did i spell that right?) more than the prospect of having an actual girlfriend.
They were probably wondering why I’m seemingly passing on this grand opportunity for a life of morphing into a werewolf once or twice a month when the instinct to hunt becomes overpowering. And then eventually finding myself on the side of the street at 6 in the morning naked, shivering and confused – with police aiming their taser guns at me.
I guess, the hunt is where I derive my meaning in life. The hunt is meβ¦.and me is the hunt.
The hunt
in other words
isΒ mah thangΒ
(alright y’all I’ll be leaving. have a good one π)
Feel Free To Leave A Comment!