Herpes

Simplex glitter.

At the risk of making myself out to be the massive bitch that lives deep within my soul, I hate glitter. Almost as much as I do cheesy romantic notions like flowers on a first date. Dude, we've talked online for 5 days, and you seem nice which is why we're going on this date, but flowers? Really?

With glitter?

Oh, and did I mention the roses were dyed blue because I made the mistake of telling him that my favorite color is blue/green?

Awful. So awful. I smiled, thanked him profusely like my grandmother taught me to do, and put them on the table next to me and tried to ignore their overpowering presence. It's like waves of tension rushing over me as I'm trying desperately to make conversation with the witch doctor. I now need to live up to these flowers, but I don't think I can be that gaudy.

He was nice, but he was trying too hard to impress me. Talking about wealth, talking about his degree in witch doctor'y, his aspirations to help impoverished children. I know, I know, I should be beside myself right now, guy with money, degree, and he wants to help the needy? That's the holy grail, right?

:sigh:

Oh, he probably didn't help himself when he invited me back to the hot tub, and when I told him I don't even own a swimsuit (not a lie), he said that if things went well he could buy me one.

I mean, I do love shopping, but I'm not looking for a sugar daddy. Especially if they think herpes ridden blue roses are romantic.

P.S. In the words of my wise friend "M", those roses are only appropriate for Elton John's funeral. I'm convinced she's correct.

Still looking for love,
Elle