For the past month or so now, I’ve been trying on men the way most women, or so I’ve heard, try on shoes. I know they’re not really necessary, and yes, I’ve already owned a similar pair one time or another which have been relegated to the back of my closet for various reasons (they no longer fit, I’ve grown bored, they’re not in fashion anymore, they refuse to sit nicely on me feet etc) but I can’t help myself. With each date I go on I feel this might be the pair that finally fits, this might be the one that makes me feel as if they were made for me and me alone; my sole mate as it were.
The reality is much less glamorous than I’m making it out to be.
Sure it’s good to go out and date new people; good like chocolate starts out to be but after your third family size bar, all you end up feeling is sick.
And yet, once the sick feeling goes away, there I am reaching out for another slab of the good stuff.
It’s a vicious circle.
