I can never tell when I’m on a date until it’s too late. Good God, am I really that oblivious, or are females just that confusing? It’s a bit of both, isn’t it?
It seems like the only girls worth having are the ones that I can’t have. Maybe it’s just my finicky, discriminating taste in women. If she lives within a sixty mile radius from my home, then she’s no good for me. If she’s not dating someone or if she’s not at least interested in somebody else, then there’s no reason to desire her. That’s sarcasm, of course, in case that doesn’t translate well in writing.
I’ll find her one day, whoever she is. Maybe I’ve already met her. Sometimes all the waiting just gets to be too much, you know?