I’m feeling a little sorry for myself today. I try not to do that often because Ye Olde Pity Party is not the best fun you can have on your own. Although my dad reckons you should wait until you’re really, really, really down on everything then get spastically drunk and practically WALLOW in delicious self-pity and after that you’ll be over it, but, you know, his theories aren’t always totally watertight. Like his recollections of Les Mis lyrics.
Mostly, I love living on my own. But today I got all maudlin about it. And also I miss my BFFFF who (apart from the sex thing, clearly) does all the rest.
Sometimes it would be rather nice to come home and drop your bag at the door and schnuffle your face into some man’s lovely chest and whine like a 10 year old “I’ve had a horrible day. Not because of anything, but because I’m feeling sad. Hold me.” And then they’d basically gently tell you that you are a fucking idiot with no real problems and sit you down on the couch and pour you a glass of wine and tell you dinner will be ready soon and then sigh when you announce once more that you need another hug because you feel terribly sad but they come and hug you anyway because that’s their Goddamn job and then the scene fades.
That and having him help you move heavy things, have sex with you and also check the oil in your car.
In return for this, I am willing to provide: Sunday roast dinner, a lot of other cooking, sex, mending of items of clothing and sensible advice. I feel this is a fair trade.
Applications via post please.