One for the books

10 Feb 2013

Dear one,

If you're a handsome, hot guy from southern France named Guillermo, then ours is a story that's definitely one for the books.

I met you last night (technically, early this morning) at China One in Clark Quay. We danced to a couple of songs. You gave me your number. I sent you a text message this morning. We hit it off and the rest is history.

The day I marry a handsome, hot guy - that would really be historical. Come on, let's face the fact: I may not be the ugliest person in the planet but I'm no beauty queen. It would probably be a one-out-of-a-million chance that I can marry a Prince Charming.

Well, I'm not really wishing for a handsome husband. And it's not out of bitterness or sourgraping that I say that. My husband's looks are the least of my concerns. You can ask Circe; she'll have a fine time telling you how she can't comprehend why I fell for that last guy who can't boast about anything in the looks department.

If that little folly with the southern France guy proved anything, it was that it didn't take make-up, high heels or mini skirt to attract someone. And I didn't even have to drink a single alcoholic beverage to keep a conversation going.

But that Guillermo, he must have been really drunk. I mean, what in the world was he thinking when he approached me?!? Me?!? Seriously?! LOL.

Anyway, the best compliment I got last night was not that of a hot guy approaching me to dance with him. It was that of my friend Ben telling me that I had a different aura - that I didn't look or sound bitter anymore. Somewhere along the way, I don't know when or where, I must have dropped the bitter attitude. And truly, I don't know why, this Valentine's day season, I'm still as lovelife-less as always but I'm not feeling bitter about anything or anybody. Maybe, that was the reason - it's probably because of the fact that I'm not feeling anything for anybody at this time.

Bitter or not, though, I still wish for peach roses.