The leaves are falling, brisk cool air, roaring fires, cups of marshmallow-y cocoa (with coconut milk of course), possibly a shot of rum added to it, sweaters, scarves, and boots…
Yes, my beloved readers it’s finally fall!!! Or autumn if you prefer. The time of year that puts us all in the holiday mood. Between turkey day, Christmas, the New Year, its the time that we spend with our loved ones. Cozy up next to that fire and enjoy the sweet moments…
Okay well those moments are more sweet when you have an actual significant fucking other. Scrooge had it right, “Ba hum bug.” Ugh….. Okay, that might have been a bit dramatic. I’m sorry but all this happiness around the holidays with couples holding hands at tree lots, and children playing in the snow. A single girl feels like she wants to shut down her Facebook. Because if I see one more happy fucking announcement about engagements, weddings, or babies I’m going to have a breakdown on Twitter! My tweets won’t be pretty people. Beware!
Let me tell all of you why my current “Ba hum bug” status is right on the money and why I need extra bottles of wine.
I was at an engagement party. Yep, FUCK MY LIFE I know. Everyone is all blissful and happy. I’m drinking the champagne that the servers are passing around like it’s water. I’m looking for my girlfriend who came with me. God bless my friends. As I’m searching for her and grabbing another glass of champagne I notice tall, sporty, and handsome giving me the eyes. He saunters over. I’m literally turning to mush on the inside. He’s so gorgeous and I’ve had so many glasses of champagne.
He speaks… Oh dear sweet baby Jesus just born in Bethlehem he’s got an accent. And not just any accent. It’s fucking Scandinavian. Jesus really does love me! Can I have him wrapped in a big red bow for the holidays? Now that’s a Merry Christmas!
Instant spark. I’m getting good vibes. Felt like I’ve known him for years. I stop drinking the champagne because don’t need it anymore. The Swede (as I will refer to him for the rest of this post) is just like the chocolate. Utterly delicious.
Description: dirty blonde hair with a little bit of salt and pepper, blue eyes, athletic build, I’m barely reaching his shoulders in heels, classic navy suit, slim navy tie, crisp white shirt, matching black belt and shoes. European men know how to dress. GQ would be proud.
We exchanged numbers. Swede and I met for wine happy hour. He’s a smart man. The way to my heart is red wine. I melted when I saw his beautiful vehicle, the new 2018 M4. Be still my European car loving heart. I hop into his sexy car. He takes me to my baby. We might have had a heated make out session on his leather interior. I felt like I was on FIRE! Burn baby burn. My own personal heater for winter nights. Yes please!
I stop myself before things go too far. It was hard. Let me tell y’all. Oh yes, the temptation was for real. But you’ve gotta keep them wanting more. Can’t give it all away. Hey, I’m trying okay! He asked me out for dinner. Did I mention that his favorite restaurant is my favorite restaurant? All I could think was thank you. Thank you Bunny Jesus, Bunny Santa, Bunny Easter Bunny, or whichever mystical creature created had brought the Swede to me. Because this was quality European goods.
I’m wearing my “this looks even better on the floor dress” and of course gorgeous oldie but goodie gold and black Jimmy Choo shoes. I walk into the restaurant and I know I look damn good.
The Swede sees me… and sees nothing else.
I sat next to him so we could have a more intimate dinner experience. We’re enjoying our cozy corner booth. Drinking expensive wine, enjoying the each others company. He’s in process of paying the bill. Then a guest joins our table.
This guest is female. First things I think, poor girl she needs to escape from a bad date (I’ve been there, I understand please refer to code blue) or she’s just got the wrong table.
Instead she smiles and says, “I knew you two would get along. See sweetheart you should listen to me more often. I’m better at picking up women then you are.”
Inner Monologue Moment: ……………………………………………………………… Say what? …….. Maybe it’s the wine? ……….. I think I’m hallucinating………… Bunny Jesus couldn’t have failed me………………………….. Could he?…….. No, he couldn’t we talked about this…. Oh FUCK, I’m talking about Bunny Jesus. I’m FUCKING SCREWED.
Apparently the guest is his girlfriend. Oh hold on wait, that’s incorrect the rock on her finger means fiancé. Fuck my LIFE.
She explains the following: It’s something they’ve talked about and have been interested in. They have been looking for a third party. But could never find someone that would suit there needs and wants. She saw me at the party and thought, BOOM! She’s the one.
Inner Monologue Moment: Am I supposed to take that as a compliment? Apparently I’m hot threesome material. Is there a sticky note on my back? Does it say ask me about threesomes?
He looks a little guilty. Then he rubs my leg under the table. Swede tells me if I’m uncomfortable now then we can remain friends until I warm up to it.
Inner Monologue Moment: Warm up to it? Is he fucking kidding me? He bought her a rock. That means he’s an instant NO!! All of my ideas of roaring fires and hot cocoa just died. In fact I want to shove his dumb-ass into the fire and drink his cocoa. I deserve it more then he does.
After I’ve gathered myself, I have a genuine TV moment that I feel is a very appropriate response. I pick up my red wine toss it in his face, ruining his crisp white shirt.
He’s in shock. She’s in dismay. I don’t fucking care!
I grab my bag and jacket. Turn around then look at her and said, “From one girl to another, I would have wanted a real diamond.”
Quote: “Damn, I’ve been on the market for so long, I feel like I’m about to go on clearance.”