My Waisted Life

So I met someone. Not over edating (online dating) actually, but I went to watch a soccer game at the pub on Wednesday. She must have been the only one not wearing a shirt of ManU. If you don’t count me that is.

We smiled at each other. She didn’t use her lips to smile, but her eyes. It was cute. Nothing happened, we even didn’t speak.
My team, ManU, were shite. Chatting up a bird was the last thing on my mind. Even if she sat on the stool next to mine. Life’s a bitch.

Fast forward to yesterday. Friday night. I was bored. I wanted to honor my friend, Tanqueray Gin, and went to the same pub again. Also because I wanted ask them about access to their private WLAN. I wanted to report tomorrow’s derby game live from the pub.
Tanqueray Gimlets were flowing as she entered. It all started again. This time with the bar in between us tho. Smiling views, twinkling eyes.

From her. I was rather stoïc, but that’s nothing new. Poker face is my middle name.
Due to some irrelevant action of hers, she went to say hi to a friend - the local pub slut - suddenly we were standing next to each other. I could judge her better now and definitely liked what I saw: Sporty Spice in her better years alike. With a little more ass. Yummy!^[1]

As we were chatting, I had to pull the big guns. Only when I gave her my blogcard, and I explained her that the next model would sport not just Asshole Par Excellence, but Jaded Asshole Par Excellence.
It was a nice evening. I got very drunk.

When I left the pub, she invited me to dine at hers next week. She has no WLAN tho.
D’uh.

1. I definitely like something to grab. Let it be not too big tho. [↩]