There’s something disturbing

…about nibbling on a chocolate penis.

I’ve eaten the balls and shaft and only the white marshmallow-filled head is left.

I feel a bit weird, if truth be told, munching on the head of a penis, but munching I am as I write this in bed.

I’ve had a weird week. It started with me trying to make an artistic fruit-platter while I had a migraine, peaked with attendance at a performance by Shen Yun (during which I felt like I was in North Korea and was being inducted into the cult of Kim Jong Un) and then finished with roast chicken and a chocolate cock.

If that ain’t weird, I don’t know what is.

In story news, I’m down to the last two chapters and I’m totally stuck (I got nuthin’ people, nuthin’.)

In gym news, I pulled my right glute and had to take it easy for a while.

In being single news, I’m still very single and starting to have gloomy thoughts. It will be two months tomorrow since I moved out.

I’ve been reading a lot of articles that single girls write about how being single isn’t a crime and is nothing to be ashamed of, but those same articles always end with the sentiment that single girls still need to ‘put themselves out there’ (because being single is not really a good thing after all).

Mark told me the other day that I’m a person who needs to be in a relationship all.the.time. That’s probably true. So even though I’m an introvert and like people to leave me alone, I don’t like to be alone. I like to have people around me but not necessarily have to interact with them. When I come home to an empty apartment or I spend a day or two or three where I haven’t actually spoken a single word to anyone, that’s when it really hits home that I’m not very good at doing the single thing.

And this whole dating thing…I feel weird doing the chasing. I’d be much better off being told what to do. There’s entirely too much decision-making required on my part for me to feel comfortable.

I need a,  ‘Yo bitch, meet me here at such and such a time!’

Instead of a, ‘So….do you want to have coffee or something?’

To which I say, ‘Yes.’

Then comes another question,  ‘Where do you want to go?’.

Another decision!?!? Seriously…I can’t cope.

I’m a follower, not a leader. Or don’t men do that shit anymore?

And if I do make it through the coffee landmine, then there is the follow-up landmine. Am I supposed to do the follow-up email/text/phonecall? If they don’t do it, does that mean they are waiting for me or it’s just not a happening thing?

I’ve been erring on the side of the latter recently and waiting for them to make the first move thinking that if they’re not saying, “Hey nice to meet you, let’s do something else next week,” then they thought I was a crusty old crone and they’re looking for someone fifteen years younger than me.

But then I was wondering if me contacting them would actually be a good exercise in me giving feedback instead of being passive & reactive.

It’s a frickin’ landmine.

In humourous news, I just saw the bad lip-reading version of Game of Thrones. I don’t know how I’ve not seen it for the last 8 months, but apparently I was living under a rock. If you haven’t seen it go forth:

And was it only me who got all sentimental about the Starks after watching this?


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