this is just a little note to let you know I've lost complete faith in you and will be terminating my interactions with you until further notice. I'll give it to you, you're pretty to look at, fun to dance with and don't even get me started on your scruffy hair and skinny jeans.
But Male Race, you suck. You never call us when you say you will, your looks always supersede your intelligence, and these days the only place to meet you is out on a bender - which is a very tragic context to begin something. Cue the embarrassing conversation: "So where did you guys meet?" .... "Oh, off our faces in the Cross," mmmm romantic.
I promise I wasn't always such a Negative Nelly. Once upon a time I believed in all that wanky romance fluff. But in the past six months I have met more jerks than I can count. My personal favourite happened the other weekend, when I met an actor SLASH student (I think I need to ban myself from slashys). He was an Eager Beaver:
HIM: Do you have a boyfriend?
ME: No, do you have a girlfriend?
ME: Why do you ask?
HIM: Because I’m interested.
We swapped numbers and he texted immediately. Awesome, I thought. I’m in! But then the communication suddenly stopped. Thanks to Facebook my dignity isn’t so damaged. After reading his relationship status it turns out Mr Eager Beaver actually has a GIRLFRIEND. He must have had a brain freeze and forgotten WHILE HE STUCK HIS TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT. Nice. Had I known this minute detail I wouldn’t have let him kiss me several times.
I don't believe in fairy tales and am not waiting for Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet, because the closest thing to a Prince in my books is someone who can spell properly, has good taste in music, doesn’t call me babe or ask me back to his house an hour after I meet him.
So thanks for the memories, it’s been shit house. If you want to send me hate mail, bring it on! Please send it to my new address -
ANNABELLE ROSE BRENNAN
Saint Theresa’s Convent,
100 Ashby Road North Sydney.