Men are dicks. Just sayin. Well, the ones I’ve met anyhoo. Well, not all the men I’ve met: I’ve met some nice men, but the ones I’m interested in undressing, they’re mostly dicks.
Or is it me?
There must be a common denominator. I seem to drive men wild and not in a I Have To Have You Right Now kind of way. Well, sometimes I manage that but mostly it’s You’re A Fucking High Maintensnce Bitch which, actually, I’m not really: I just hate this game playing and not saying what you really want or don’t want, as seems to be the case most of the time.
Or do I not know what I want?
No, I don’t, but maybe I’m hoping I’ll find a handsome man wrapped up in a big bow under my proverbial Christmas tree who will be what I want without me having to decide on it.
Or maybe I am a high maintenance bitch – there are plenty of exes lined up to attest to that. But then they weren’t exactly super food smoothies themselves.
Or maybe I just haven’t found what I’m looking for. What album was that on? The Unforgettable Fire or The Joshua Tree? Or another one? Great song. Although that opening riff of Where The Streets Have No Name, the bit Edge plays: it gets louder. Chills, good chills. Is that called a riff? Probably not. But great song. I like Edge. Kinda fancy him. Must be the beanie.
I think I want to be single. Or a lesbian. Would that be easier?