I'm not sure if it's good news or bad news, but this ginger thing is apparently not a phase.
My face hurts today. It hurt yesterday too. It hurts because I tried, unsuccessfully, to hit on a ginger this weekend. Theoretically, that's not a big deal. It's not like I successfully hit on guys. The truth is my expectations are pretty low. So low that I recently considered internet dating again. The key word is considered. It was so awful the first time I'll probably be three weeks out of my artificial insemination consultation before a match.com profile gets filled out.
Here's the thing: I attempted to dance with a guy and he accidentally elbowed me in the face. Dead fucking in the middle of my face. I'm talking straight up bow to the nose. I grabbed my face to make sure I still had one and my nose was bleeding.
Do you know what's super hot? Bleeding out of your face. The fellas are all "Man, there's all these chicks here, but I'm just drawn to the one with blood coming out of her nose. It's both elegant and refined."
How do you come back from that? You don't. You giggle way too loud and awkward and say, "oh no big, I'm totally fine!" Then you run to the bathroom and stick tissues up your nose and stare at yourself in the mirror and let out the long and overdue "OWWWWWW FUUUUUUUUCK!" To add insult to injury, it wasn't even tissues, I had to use one-ply toilet paper. I didn't even know that shit existed. And you know what...it shouldn't.
It's okay you guys, this story has a happy ending. It's the part where I passed out on a couch. Thus hopefully assuming I completely gave up and made no effort to talk to that guy again.
Who am I kidding? I probably told him I loved him after my 17th white wine.
I think you should blog about how bikini waxers never remember you. I mean they are right up in there. They could at least pretend like gynecologists do
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