Alive, awake, alone outside...and sober? Maybe I am older now, but walking home in the rain on this warmish night of almost Spring-time made me wonder about a snappy remark my mum made a few days ago. She scoffed, "does anyone ever actually look back on their youth and think, hey, maybe the things people told me not to do were for a good reason and I'm glad I didn't do them. But no, kids just do it anyway." (The context is irrelevant)
Perhaps it was because both of my male counter parts could not come out tonight, absolutely nothing about clubbing appealed to me. My god, after watching Crazy Stupid Love, I should have very high expectations about meeting Ryan Gosling-esque males. Alas, I have come to terms with the fact that a night in with my own man would beat a thousand awkward advances from cologne-drenched occidentals.
Oh well, the night only cost me $4.50 and confirmed my devotion to disdain for racks on racks on racks of bitches with long-ass hair touching my arms and back as they flail aimlessly to overly cranked music.
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