The dating game. Aren't we all victims of it? Something provoked me to do something silly and a not-so-very-suave gesture tonight. I got this number from a friend (from a guy) and proceeded to make my move. I messaged the poor unfortunate lady, introducing myself as some nonchalant chaperon from some past outing where we last seen each other. And subsequently asked if SHE WAS FREE. That - I reckoned at the moment - was basically asking for a fat lip. The reply that came wasn't any lesser than wat I'd have expected.
"Sorry not free tonight."

That was that. The end. Au revoir. I probably won't ever see her again. Nor will anyone see me around the next time they have some outing together. Maybe I'd apologize later. Maybe not. Maybe if I did, things might change. Maybe not. Wat I do know is, I've just made a complete disposition of a desperate numbskull out of myself.

That's the thing. The whole bollocks of the situation. You try to let others perceive yourself as some chivalrous metrosexual but some how the entire jizz of it burns out and fades as soon as you get down to seriously doing it. Blame it on technology. Blame it on society. Blame it on lousy lame pickup lines. But that's the last I'd ever be messaging some stranger "Hi free wanna chat? a/s/l?" Don't get me wrong, it's not like I have a habit of going to chatrooms and do random serve-me-ups to underaged testosterone-packed teens. Then again, I didn't need to prove that to anyone though I don't mean chatting with new people online is a bad thing. There's the excitement and adrenalin rush you get when the other party actually replies and actively partakes in the conversation. And of course the eventual meet-ups if everything clicks.

But...I've gone too far up metrosexuality's ass to plonk my head somewhere else even if I try. I'd just stick to the traditional way for now. As for everything else, there's "Please Lah". (pun intended)

::Moods and muses::
John Farnham - You're the Voice

"We’ve had some tough times, but we’ve hung in there." - Paul Allen