Sometimes I'm utterly comfortable being a single gal on the brink of thirty. Most times, I think I've actually convinced myself that I don't need a man to be happy. Then, I will have a dream like the one I had last night and realize maybe I'd be open to the idea of a little romance. Mind you, I realize romance doesn't translate to relationship so let's just take a look at my dream, shall we? I dreamed of Jim from NBC's The Office. What a cutie! I've only watched a handful of episodes but I've seen the way he looks at Pam and the flirtatious way they act toward each other and I actually miss having that with someone. Anywho, back to the dream. I'm living in New York City and riding the subway and somehow Jim and I come together and sparks fly. The whole time we're kissing and flirty with each other I think of poor Pam and so does Jim but we realize we have to be together. This insanely happy aspect of my dream goes on for what seems like forever but inevitably it has to be ruined by something. The alarm clock, for once, was not the culprit. This time, it was my family to blame. I had to put the pedal to the metal and leave Jim's kisses and embraces because I had to get to a family birthday party and I was going to be late and knew all hell would break loose. Story.Of.My.Life. People, seriously.
On a side note, how is it that when you treat a man poorly he won't get off your jock but if you treat him like a king he kicks you to the curb? I just ask because I have had little to no contact with quasi-beau since the drunken Christmas party episode and who sends me a text message this morning to see if I'm back from London? You got it. QB. I wrote back: Got back on the 9th. Think he'll take the hint that I've been back over a week and have yet to call him? Nah. He'll probably end up buying me a diamond ring. Dumbass.