OK so this week I officially gave up. The STOP sign was hauled out followed by the end of the road sign. I accepted that I’m not going to meet anyone. It won’t happen by accident and it certainly hasn’t happened by design (when I go to a bar). I sadly accepted that just like Bridget Jones, they’ll find me one day a dead spinster having been half-eaten by my dogs… except knowing my dogs even they world turn their noses up and say “Is that it? Where’s my K9 Natural?”. I was sad. I was beaten. I was depressed.
All this because I stupidly opened the communication lines and contacted an old ‘friend’ only to have them coldly slam the door back in my face. Arctic chill indeed. Serves me right for being a) weak and b) a stupid daydreamer. But either way it made me realise that if I’m investigating old roads traveled that I really am scraping the bottom of the barrel, going backwards not forwards. So what did I do? I opened a bottle of wine of course and I wallowed and moaned to my long-suffering friend (it’s OK really she has special Miss-Kitty-Proof ear plugs for the really long whinge sessions).
Then today the same wonderful friend stumbled on a revelation I had buried quite by accident. You see there is a new man in town, well not really new, he’s local, but by town I mean my orb of travel. I’ve met him twice and much as I felt the buzz the first time, I instantly filed it under my ‘Don’t Even Bother’ category. Firstly because he’s a goodie and so I always assume they have a girlfriend/wife/mistress (which pretty much rules out everyone over the age of 34 off the bat anyway) and secondly, well, because he has a beard or beardedness. Yes I admit I am an anti-beardist, and I hate mustaches and goatees too, and overall I’m not sure how I feel about it, it’s a bit hobo, a bit hippy for me.
But my friend and another close friend of ours met him by chance today and both independently reported back that this new man was a bit of a catch! Hello says I, pulling him out of my mental filing cabinet, get in the queue. First dibs ladies! You see the reason I hadn’t mentioned him before wasn’t just because of the beard, which I aIso couldn’t get my head round, bit because he was so well…uh…nice? Is this an illusion? Surely it is. So I kind of toyed with the idea and then ping! banished him to my archive, no point in barking up the wrong tree. But now that the girls have flagged him and can see through the fuzz to the hot man underneath as well, it’s got me thinking! Maybe I’m wrong to be follically prejudiced? As an added Brucey-Bonus I’ve since heard that he may well indeed be single…. or again it’s just fate playing with my tortured heart, if not then the crux of the issue really does boil down to “can I fancy a guy with facial hair?” or as my dear friend suggests do you simply buy him a nice razor set for Christmas? Well put it this way, he’s a babe either in or out of the woods!