Dear Future Boyfriend, Part Seven

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.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!