Dear Future Boyfriend part Seven
Wherever you are, you need to come out and make a move.
And that’s not because I’m getting sick of the single life. I actually dread the day I’ll have to stop spending my Friday nights with my Will & Grace boxset wearing nothing but my old college top and my fat pants. Or when I have to start sharing my life, feelings and even worse my food with a boy. It’s not because I’m ready for you and I to be together.
It’s because I want you to mark your ground.
Despite what I think about my thighs and that no one will love me with my frizzy hair, there turns out to a number of demographics that find me appealing. As I found out over this past weekend. As I parked in town to do some work stuff, I car guard told me I make all the men in Cape Town cry because of broken hearts. Later when I arrived home, a truck driver told me to be careful with my booty. When I was out, a homosexual told me I looked “Fierce” and snapped his fingers. But that happens all the time, I have my gays trained.
And then this morning, I was at the shops. Just doing my bidness when not one, but two gentlemen of an older nature looked me up and down and either made a suggestive gesture or comment. One was even with his wife. Yes it was unbelievably creepy and I should have said something. But a girl’s still got to eat.
So while you’re out saving humanity (tip: I’d really like you to be a human rights lawyer but I can also handle activist as long as we’re not poor) please consider that the future love of your life is being hit on by car guards, the gays and geriatrics.