Yet another Valentine’s Day without a boyfriend. That makes it seven years running now. It’s not as though I haven’t had my fair share of relationships in the past seven years – though most of them purely sexual, I must confess – but for some reason on February 14th I always find myself without someone to cuddle and kiss.
My friends tell me my standards are too high. That I should accept that I am never going to find the perfect soul-mate. That I should just find a guy who ticks some of the boxes, not all, and be content with that.
Unfortunately that is not the way I roll. If I can’t have it all I’d rather not have anything. An intelligent man should surely exist and if he really is smart, I bet he has a sense of humour as well. He shouldn’t necessarily be handsome, but I must find him cute. Wearing glasses would therefore be a plus. And he has to excite me in the sack, that goes without saying. He must be good with kids as well (because I intend to bare him a couple) and willing to put up with my numerous idiosyncrasies.
That is a bar I will not lower. Not for anyone. Except on the 14th of February, maybe. Because it sure would be nice to have a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.
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