The Girlfriend Zone

So I have been debating on whether or not to share this with you guys for a while. Maybe I felt kind of shy telling the whole world about the man that completely changed my whole world. Maybe on some level I am superstitious and did not want to jinx it.

This is basically what convinced me to write about it: The Friend Zone. It’s a post I wrote on February 2, 2012. Exactly one year after I wrote The  Friend Zone, I met Allister on February 2, 2013.

*Author’s Note: It just occurred to me that this was post I wrote on February 2, 2012: Reality check: Why I’m going to be the next Bachelorette. Either post works really. They both speak to my hopeless humorous situation at the time. 

As a lot of you may have come to know about me, I had my own views of what relationships should be like. I had never been in a serious relationship but I had a lot of friends who were in a lot of serious relationships and observations taught me many things.

People in average relationships seemed happy enough. People in great relationships, however, seemed…quiet. People in great relationships knew what it took to make it to where they were. I always wanted a great relationship. I knew it would take work.  But that’s okay…every great thing takes a lot work to obtain, right?

Against all the odds that I imagined there to be in this world, I actually found someone that also seemed to want a great relationship.

I am by no means an expert in relationships. I could have somehow gotten away before by telling you guys I was an expert at being single. But to being relationship-savvy I have no claim to fame.

As practical as I would love you guys all to have believed, I had very skewed, Hollywoodized ideas of a great relationship. Things were really not what I thought they would be when I finally got into one. Unlike what I imagined real relationships are like, there was no drama, no waiting by the phone and there was no sleeping around with a million people until one of us had life-changing epiphanies.

Allister and I met at a dinner arranged by a couple of girlfriends a year ago. He thought my plans for starting a business of writing online dating profiles was preposterous. I thought he was hotter than two rabbits in a wool sock. He offered me a ride home that night. I invited him to my place for house party the week after.

Three weeks after Allister and I started dating, he told me point blank that he wanted to be my boyfriend. Had I been the practical person I wanted to believe I was, I would not have wanted run for the hills. After years of being single, I had almost developed a Stockholm syndrome towards the Friend Zone. But he saw that. He told me that when I was ready, send him a postcard and he’d be there…still wanting the same thing. (All paraphrased)

Eventually our first major fight happened four months in. There was a lot of crying on my part and a lot of listening on his before he addressed what bothered me.  Contrary to how great I thought I was at being reasonable, he was better at deflecting fights before they escalated to destructible levels.

That was also the night he said I love you for the very first time. He told me later that it may have been the least romantic moment to me, but he never meant it more.

I turned 27 last September. He celebrated it like he was making up for for the last 26 birthdays he missed. That was when I knew that I would never ever be able to celebrate another birthday without him.

Everything about dating Allister was unexpectedly alarmingly easy. I was not sure if it was because years of failure had lead me to believe relationships couldn’t be drama free but I would always wonder if we were going wrong somewhere.

Where was the downside of being in a relationship that everyone talks about? People always told me to enjoy my single days. Being in a relationship has its rewards but it is SOOO MUCH WORK.

They were NOT lying when they told me it would be a lot of work.

Over the past year it took a lot of arguments, heated discussions and flat out fights with each other for me to realize that relationship are a LOT of work….on myself.

I learned just how blinded I am to my own faults. I pout, I fight, I bitch and I yell when I don’t get my way. Oftentimes, I found that the arguments we have had were born out of a sense of injustice I felt when someone else failed to do things my way and when I assumed the worst of my partner not realizing that having two people in a relationship ALWAYS means there are two sides of a story.

It took a lot of work for me to admit that I am a far cry from the perfect person I thought I was. And it takes a lot of work to fix it.

At the end of it all, the paradox of happiness that I stated in The Friend Zone remains true:

In order to be happy, you have to make someone happy.

In order to make someone happy, you have to be happy yourself.

If at all somehow by some fluke of the Universe, the fates are kind and bless you with someone that makes you happy, you best do everything you can to be the person that makes them happy. Even if it means you lay down your pride. Especially if it means if you have to lay down your pride. Because according to the paradox, that’s happiness.

And as someone who strives to make this guy happy, I can definitely attest to that.

PS: You can’t see her in this picture, but there was a thousand year old woman sitting on the side who came up to us with these pearls of wisdom for Allister: 1) Always wash your hands. 2) Never be mad at each other

So I will ask you this: What have you learned from your relationships? Here’s a  poll to help, but I would love to hear from you as well!

How to be thankful on Thanksgiving

It seems common belief that holidays of any sort can be hard on singles. Christmas time, the season of nauseating radio play of basterdized Christmas carols and long line-ups for the naked scanner at the airport, is usually tainted by Aunt Bossy at the annual family stroke-inducing holiday dinner.

Everyone has an Aunt Bossy. She’s the one with the candy cane earrings, a pearl necklace and a brooch that says “Jesus is the reason for the season”.  She may or may not be biologically related to you. But this doesn’t stop her from closelining you on your way to the cookie table with well-meaning insults.

“Why are you so thin, Karen? Are you on a diet? Your mother tells me you joined a dating site”, 

“Do you know your cousin Melissa just got engaged to that engineer from Winnipeg? Remember him? You know he has a brother? You’re not getting any younger”

Whether its Christmas, Easter, Sabbath, Black history month or the zombie apocalypse, Aunty Bossy’s solution to the question of the Universe is: find a man as fast as you can.
 
Of course you could shut her up by yelling ‘F*ck cousin Melissa and her goddamn engineer fiance!” promptly causing major family drama, a demotion from cousin Melissa’s wedding party and the lifelong family anecdote of ‘that time when Karen lost her cookies…just 3 seconds before she was about to stuff her empty soul with butterscotch.’
 
But of course you won’t do that. What you probably will do is sit there silently hoping cousin Melissa chokes on her half-price Easter chocolate.
 

Aunt Bossy.This is also pretty much what I will look like 30 years from now.

Apart from Easter and Christmas, there are also other obscure holidays like Labor Day, New Year’s, and if you live in Canada- Family Day and Victoria Day. Not to mention birthdays, baptisms, summer bbqs, anniversaries and of course Thanksgiving.

But for the purpose of this post not becoming any more of one of those angry, woe-is-me, single girl rants, let’s just focus on the real issue at hand: giving thanks on Thanksgiving.

In Canada, thanksgiving is celebrated a little over a month before our American neighbours. Nobody knows the reason for this; it may have something to do with the fact that every year, Canadians need a whole day in the fall to recover from the shock and panic of Environment Canada’s annual prediction that it will be a cold winter.

Thanksgiving, which is predominantly a North American holiday, was never a tradition I grew up with. My family was the kind that showed love by making dry sarcastic comments at each other’s expense. Christmas and birthday gifts were never exchanged and nobody sat around, held hands and talked about their feelings.

Usually I’m just grateful that Thanksgiving exists so I can have a day off. But after living in Canada for the past 8 years, I’m inclined to believe that North American culture dishes out public holidays in order to give malls silly excuses to hold sales so that single people with no families have something to do on their day off.

The only man I’ll ever need is Michael Kors

 But this year I wanted Thanksgiving to be different. None of this feeling sorry for myself bullshit. It was time to go back to the real reason for the holiday: Being grateful for everything.

As it so happened (like it often does), I had no real Thanksgiving plans with family or friends. But that didn’t stop me from starting my own Thanksgiving tradition: Having one day when I truly allow myself to see just how good I have it.

I thought I would go all out and have a hearty turkey dinner for one. But standing in front of the freezer section at my grocery store, I had to come to the acceptance that cooking a turkey, which weighed about the same as a three-year-old child, was perhaps not the most original or feasible idea for a gal like me.

I settled for a small chicken instead.

I’ve never cooked a full roast chicken in my life. The whole day was spent fussing over this damn bird that I had no time to think about all the things us fickle singletons fret about during holidays. To stuff…or not to stuff? (Gordon Ramsey says to pop in half a lemon wedge) How long do I preheat the oven? What if it turns out too dry? And what the hell does basting mean?

In end, I decided to go the heart attack route. No roast chicken can be dry if you cover it with 5lbs of butter and bacon stripes. And would you believe it…here are the results of a whole day’s worth of labor:

Just to drive the point further, that bread was fried in butter.

Never in my life had I ever created anything quite so fattening and delicious-looking. I sat down and said a prayer of thanksgiving. I gave thanks for the food, my life, my health, the fact that Immigratin Canada still hasn’t kicked me out of this country (just yet), the fact that I could still afford to eat a lard-laden meal without collapsing from a massive coronary (just yet), my family, my friends, and my future family, who I’m sure when they someday come along, will be thankful for the fact that there are no vegetables involved in this meal…and the few veggies there are are guiltily swimming in a tub of butter and bacon grease.

I truly had everything I needed this Thanksgiving. Even if Aunt Bossy thought otherwise.

And so this thanksgiving, whether you celebrate it today or a month and a half from now, may you always find something to be grateful for. And if you can’t, there’s always bacon.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of  you out there! 😀

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Author’s Note: There were no turkeys, aunts, or cousin Melissas harmed in the making of this post. Last I heard cousin Melissa did end up marrying that putz from Winnipeg. Bitch.

Willing to lie about how we met: A guide to keeping it real with online dating

I think it’s about time I came clean and confess something. For the past few months or so, I have resorted to the realm of online dating. Well, this was not so much a confession as it is what I thought would be a good segway into giving you folks a play-by-play into the stupid monkey dance I do in my valiant efforts at finding everlasting true love.

From the very start, the one problem I had with online dating was that it took away my fairytale. Now when people asked, I wouldn’t be able to tell them we met when he rescued me from a urinating homeless man on the subway, or that my hot neighbour knew it was love at first sight when he saw me innocently washing his car in my daisy duke shorts that I specifically bought for the occasion.

Regardless, the thought of the immense potential I have of becoming a cat owner, or worse my Indian mother searching for a worthy suitor for me were incentives enough to swallow my pride and bite the bullet.

In my findings, online dating basically is a four-stage, blindfolded journey through the jungles of modern-day MTV love. And if you ever decide to get on this bandwagon, don`t be afraid embarrased. I`m here to give you a taste of what you possibly could be getting into:

Stage 1: The Hunt

Also known as: The Profile Search

Real Life Equivalent: Scanning the bar for people who don`t look like they conduct secret gatherings in their basement to read out the Communist Manifesto.

Much like in real life, your profile search will lead you to find both decent and douche alike. You can tell decent by a normal smiley picture taken at a wedding, usually including a puppy in the background. Douche by a shirtless, Instagram photo taken in the bathroom mirror, usually including a tank of protein supplements in the background.

It’s at times like this that you have to remember that you are here because you couldn`t get a date in real life to save your life. Beggars can`t be choosers. Even douches deserve everlasting true love. Even if only for their excellent photog skills.

Once you have picked a profile that looks like it could have potential to go far…and by ‘far’ I mean enough to make you overcome the urge to fling your laptop at your plant Penny, you will find yourself in Stage 2.

Stage 2: The Size up

Also known as: Scanning a profile for character flaws by subconcisouly judging their grammar

Real Life Equivalent: Making eye contact with someone who looks like they hail from a decent gene pool while trying to see if you can find hints of axe murderer in their eyes.

Reading through profiles is a crucial step in finding your soulmate, let me tell ya! By now after scanning through hordes of profiles, you would have found a few key similarities in everyone who joins dating sites:

1) They’re ALL loving their single life.

2) They ALL love to travel.

3) Their ALL are on this site because their sick of the bar scene.

While this ALL sounds dreamy, let me  bitchslap you out of online oblivion. People who LOVE being single are usually found in cloistered convents and Siberian mountain caves…not online dating sites.

And perhaps it WOULD be better to meet someone at a bar, because if you are anything like me, you’d be more inclined to talk to them when you are blissfully unaware of ‘they’re’ inability to properly use contractions and possessive pronouns.

Yes. It is THAT simple.

That being said, please don’t be like me. Give people a break and move on to Stage 3.

Stage 3: Establishing interest

Also known as: Swallowing your pride and showing the lucky POI (person of interest) you think they’re rad enough to warrant 3 more seconds of your time.

Real Life Equivalent: Letting decent gene pool lover buy you a drink while knowing they’re probably mentally undressing you.

You swallowed your pride, charged your credit card and spent countless hours stalking a wide array of photos, wondering who’s worthy enough to see your 50 shades of cray. You made it this far, you might as well go in for the kill. Shoot an email. Take a stab at a corny joke to break the ice. Even take a jab at yourself if that starts the ball rolling.

Please note that the homicidal terms of “kill”, “shoot”, “stab” and “jab” are not an indication of how you are subconsciously feeling at this point. Obviously.

And if you’re too shy or illiterate, there’s always The Wink. This is perhaps the greatest thing about online dating. You do not have to put yourself out there and risk rejection. In real life: you buy someone a drink; in cyber life: you wink.

In most online dating cases, a wink has usually gotten me a date. In most real life cases, a wink would have most likely gotten me a restraining order.

So send that email. Its more likely you’ll get to Stage 4 if you do.

Stage 4: The Meet up

Also known as: The date

Real Life Equivalent: Going out on a date.

There are several things that could have gone wrong with your email exchange:

1) The loser never responded.

2) The corny joke I asked you to make was too corny. Or not corny enough.

3) Their response was something like this: “hey ya, haha gud joke. where u frm? maybe we cud get like a drnk or somethin ur hot txt me bak”

But let’s be optimistic here and assume none of that happened and you scored a date with an awesome possum.

Congratulations you little love warrior! You did it! 🙂 See? Online dating isn’t so bad.

The Aftermath:

Unfortunately, I cannot guide you any further on the actual date. Perhaps I’d be a little more qualified if I had an actual success. However, there are only three ways it could go:

1) Really well.

2) Really not well.

3) Limbo- Stop reading this and refer to the book “He’s just not that into you”

For the sake of optimism again and to end this post on a high note, let’s say that over a pitcher of sangria, you both saw your unborn children in each other’s Pinot-glazed eyes.

Huzzah! Success!

This does indeed happen (sometimes), and all you singletons out there HAVE to believe that this will happen to you one day. 

Whether you find your dreamboat lover online or offline, there IS someone out there who will accept you for the complicated, delusional, imperfect, crazy bitch that you are. Someone that will make all the hours of wasted time scouring profiles worth every second.

And when that happens, shoot me an email to thank me for guiding you through that dark moment in your life when you whipped out your credit card in quiet resignation.

I’ll even take a wink.

The Friend Zone

This is what happens when I’ve been away for far too long. You lucky ducks get to read TWO posts in a row! Imagine that. You’re welcome all you chronic insomniacs!

You may all know my lovely and talented REAL LIFE fellow WordPress blogger friend BreezyK who’s praises I sing at every chance I get. Well, about a month and a half ago, Ms. Breezy asked me to guest post for her fabulous blog The Camel Life. Obviously I was pretty freaking flattered but as soon as that wore off, I was filled with anxiety about what to write about.

After a whole month of struggling with this post, it took me one night of insomnia to finish it.

So what was it that I struggled with so much to write about? It was a dreaded world where we all at some point either had to live in…or in my case, had to set up shop: The Friend Zone. This is one of my rare personal philosophical posts filled with my 2:00am epiphanies. I hope you will read it and maybe on some level even relate to it.

Without further ado, here is my post about The Friend Zone on BreezyK’s The Camel Life

 

Guest Post: How to Snag the Boy Next Door in 10 Minutes or Less

What a treat all you lucky ducks are in for today!

Some way, somehow a few months ago, I managed to convince the beautiful and funny BreezyK from The Camel Life to drink wine with me. Our love blossomed over wine- related drunkness, appetizers and the table of good-looking men next to us. We sealed the deal with a drunken subway ride home.

Months later, Breezy wrote the most humorous post that I’m happy and excited to feature on The Chronicles. For those of you who would like some context for this post, please check out my previous post: Because the Greatest Cockblock of all is happening to me.

Without further ado, here’s Breezyk’s take on my cockblocking stories. Enjoy!

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Holla peeps- For those of you who don’t know me, I’m BreezyK from The Camel Life, where I blog about finding the humour in everyday life.

I’ve been a follower of The Chronicles for quite some time now, and am proud to say that after only a few short months of stalking correspondence, I have successfully managed to turn what was once merely an unrequited internet girl-crush into an actual, real life friendship with Karen.
And kids- let me tell ya- she’s just as sweet, funny, and gorgeous as she is on her blog. Which also makes me kind of hate her.

Just look at that face! Now there's a girl you could bring home to mom.

Anyway, when we’re not making each other friendship bracelets or redecorating our secret best friend hideout, we sometimes like to eat Eggs Benny at various hipster brunch spots around Toronto and pretend to be as cool in real life as we are on the internet.

During one such meet-up a few Sundays ago, Karen was giving me an update on the infamous (and subject of frequent blog posts) Astro Boy. When she told me that she had recently discovered Astro-Boy was her NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR- I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Your crush is the boy next door?? I exclaimed. “You have to do something- he’s RIGHT THERE! You probably share a goddamn wireless connection!”
Unconvinced, she replied: “Well what am I supposed to do, go knock on his door?”
“Pfft…” I replied “No. There are tons of things you could do to get his attention”.
“Like what?” she asked.

I then proceeded to ramble off a list of what I thought were foolproof suggestions, in my probably (ok, definitely) still-drunk-from-the-night-before state. Since we got a good chuckle out of them, we thought it might be fun to share them with you all, in case any of you have a boy next door you want to snag.. or maybe just a pesky neighbour that you want to scare away. Cause that could work too.
So here goes:

BreezyK’s Guide to Snagging the Boy Next Door in 10 Minutes or Less:

Set up a lemonade stand. Screw Milkshakes- these days, it’s lemonade that brings all the boys to the yard. Set up an inviting looking stand, complete with a pitcher and glasses for two, wear something slutty, and before you know it, it’ll be more than just the lemons getting squeezed, if you know what I’m sayin’.

Move over Kelis… there’s a new drank in town.

Have a yard sale, at which you sell only your unmentionables. This might require an initial investment, since you’ll probably have to go and buy some sexy shit to “sell” ( lets be honest, the stuff in your drawers right now probably isn’t gonna cut it). But what’s a couple hundred bucks at Victoria Secret if it helps you secure the love of your life??

Wash your car suggestively in your yard. Think Jessica Simpson, “These Boots are Made for Walking” styles. Again, this may require an initial investment- particularly if you don’t own a car. Obviously you’ll have to buy one. But hey, no one ever said love came cheap.

Bake things that smell delicious. Harness your inner domestic diva and use it to whip up several dozen batches of cookies and muffins. If you’re lucky, the sweet scent will hypnotize the object of your affection and draw him to you like a moth to a flame… or Lindsay Lohan to an open bar. Bonus points if you leave a fresh apple pie cooling on the window sill in plain sight. You little June Cleaver, you.

If June Cleaver were a cat.

Regular, good old fashioned stalking. This is the least expensive, and arguably, most foolproof way of securing your man. It works like this: hide, out of eyesight, in your living room window. Wait (Bring snacks, cause this could take a while). If he is a runner do this dressed in full workout gear. When you see him leave his house, dash out of your front door and immediately begin jogging into step beside him.. and then BAM! Serendipitous encounter.

Have the sudden urge to borrow something. You could go with the standard cup of flour or sugar, but why not create an air of mystery by asking for something really obscure- like two 48-inch diameter plywood discs for that hovercraft you’re building in the backyard. Can he see it? No, it’s not… uh…. ready yet. But maybe once it’s done you can take him for a “ride”. wink wink. nudge nudge.
Feign a lost pet. Print up some signs, complete with a picture of your “lost” Golden Retriever puppy, and ask him to help you put them up all over the neighbourhood. Cause really, who could say no to little Cooper?


and if none of these suggestions work, then I guess as a last ditch effort you could:
Talk to him like a normal person. But that’s way less fun. And way more awkward. I’d go with the lemonade stand.
Good luck, and happy creeping!
xo,
BreezyK

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And there you have it. How jealous are you of me now that you know she’s my real life friend?! If you want to read more of BreezyK, CLICK ON THIS LINK—–> The Camel Life. Because she’s awesome.

Because the Greatest Cockblock of all is happening to me

Urban Dictionary, the new Webster for those of you who didn’t get the memo, defines  the word cockblock as: “The act of obstructing one person’s advances towards another.” My best friend Bernice describes a cockblock as ANYTHING that comes in the way of things going the way you planned. A flat tire, hailstones, bad hair days, the Toronto Transit Commission, and chlamydia are shining examples of the many cockblocks one can encounter.

If however, you are still unsure of what a cockblock is and the kind of humorously terrible situations it creates, you’re in for a treat. Today, all you lucky ducks get to read a pretty freaking compelling post on it.

People always ask me why I’m single. For future reference, please note that this is a horrible question to ask single people. Regardless, I know I’m single because I suffer from a peculiar condition known as Dating ADD. I have no patience to explain what that means because that’s not what this is about. Until fairly recently I stopped blaming men for my relationship failures and realised it would be colossally narcissistic of me to blame the Universe. The universe had more important things to tend to then to get in the way of my sexytimes. I’m starting to reevaluate that theory now.

The whole story actually begins two and a half years ago when I moved closer to the city where possibilities of having an awesome life were endless. The first thing I did back then was join the gym because that’s what kinesiologists do. Barely two days later I saw the man who made me weak in the knees despite all the rigorous quad strengthening exercises I did.

For the purposes of convenience we will call this man Astro Boy. Because of his astronomically beautiful smile of course. So intrigued was I by Astro Boy that he guest starred as the “Lat Pull Down” guy in my first Freshly Pressed post “Karen’s Guide to Maximising Gym Workouts”. Anyway, for months after that all I could do was worship from afar. I may come off as a straight talking bitch on my blog, but I’m a gigantic pansy in real life.

It was love at first stretch

I saw Astro Boy everywhere. At the gym, at the subway station, walking home from work, at the grocery store..

Finally last summer, fate dealt me a sweet card. I was coming home from work one tired afternoon and from a distance I saw a shirtless douchebag running on my street. I judge anyone who runs outside without a shirt as a douchebag. Since douchebag and I were moving towards each other, it wasn’t long before I realised that the douchebag was Astro Boy.

For the rest of the summer, Astro Boy ran around the block without a shirt and everytime this happened I heard the song “I only have eyes for you” by The Flamingos play in my head. To be fair to him, it was a pretty hot summer. I found out later that he lives in the house that is directly across the street from mine. All this time, Astro Boy was literally the boy next door.

And all this time, not a word was exchanged between us.

If only life were this simple

Now that you know this back story, I can proceed to educate you on the concept of cockblockism.

 It was Friday night and I was in a frenzy to get to the Greyhound station. I was scheduled to be on the 12:30am night bus to Montreal. Yes, this happened last week. The elevator doors opened to the Greyhound station and the first face I saw sitting in the waiting area with a large suitcase of his own was Astro Boy.

I tried to keep a cool head, which is not easy when you’re freaking out. And because life is humorous, the only two available seats was either one next to a crazy man who was talking to himself or one next to Astro Boy. For a second of pure insanity, I seriously debated sitting next to the crazy guy.

But I regained my senses and sat next to Astro Boy. I could sense him looking at me but I did what any nervous person would do. I pretended that I had a thousand text messages to respond to. A quick glance at the bus schedule on the screen told me there was only one bus scheduled to depart from Toronto at that time. And that was the 12:30am night bus to Montreal. After two and a half years of  gaping creepily and listening to The Flamingos, the Universe was finally handing me an opportunity on a silver platter by putting both of us on the same bus for the next 8 hours.

He finally got up to join the bus line outside and as he passed by, he looked straight at me and smiled. It took me a while to collect myself and join the line too. We were five people away from each other in the line up and those 10 minutes were spent stealing glances. He finally got to the front of the line and sat at the window seat. 

There comes a time in one’s life when you have to overcome your fears and go for it. And when that time comes, you have to not care about the aura of dumbassery that will inevitably surround you when you do go for it. With that in mind, I stood there in that line with a firm resolve to go up to him and introduce myself. There was a feeling of peace that surrounded this decision and I knew the time had come. I handed my ticket to the driver trying to think of witty ways I would begin the fateful conversation with Astro Boy.

Where are you going Miss?” I heard the driver ask.

Montreal.” I say in a dream-like voice. “This is the 12:30 bus to Montreal, is it not?”

It most definitely is ma’am“, said the driver. “But you’re not on this bus.”

What?

I looked at the driver confused while he proceeded to explain to me how he was going to cockblock me from Astro Boy.

Miss, you have a ticket for the Greyhound. This is Megabus. Megabus and Greyhound are two completely different companies. I’m sorry. I can’t let you get on this bus. The Greyhound is the next bus. You’ll have to join that line“.

I stared at the driver dumbly. “Can I not just get on this one? They’re both going to the same place. I already have a ticket”.

Sorry. You’re not getting on this bus.”

“I only have eyes for you” abruptly stopped playing. I walked over to the next bus and didn’t look back.

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There were several cockblocks at play that night and till today I am unable to decide which was the biggest one. One thing I know for sure, summer is coming. And its a lot harder to muster the courage to talk to someone attractive when they’re shirtless. I’m sure all of you, male and female, can attest to this fact.

Until an opportunity slaps me in the face again two years from now, I will continue come home from work everyday with hopes of seeing a shirtless douchebag Astro Boy running down my street.