So Valentine’s Day came and went and I can tell you exactly what this Sassy girl did: absolutely nothing.
Okay, I’ll admit it – that’s a lie. 15 February rolled around, and I rolled out of bed and pulled the sheets back to discover… oh, goodness me, what had I done the night before? There was the lingering smell of beer coupled with desperation, as well as the musky scent of the dark-haired hunk sprawled out next to me. This was just perfect. My awesome Galentine’s night out had turned into a possible nightmare.
Sneaking into the ensuite, I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d definitely learned my lesson this time. Was this really the way to meet the man of my dreams? Alright, Ms. Sassy, it was 2015, it was time to shake things up and not muck around anymore. Even though it was So. Much. Fun. Upon exiting the bathroom, I came face to oh-so-beautiful face with The Hair. That’s what I’d call him now – he had the most amazing curls in his hair. Why couldn’t my hair stay curly like that?
Focus. Focus. Readjust my dress. Pluck up the courage to make eye contact. Was I really just giving myself instructions on how to behave in this super-duper-mega-embarrassing situation?
“Morning… are you alright?” he enquired. Nodding, I replied, “Hungry”. HUNGRY?! While it was true and my tummy was rumbling, surely I should be legging it out the door by now, not prolonging this conversation. “Would you like to go out for breakfast?” The Hair asked, swinging his lean legs off the bed.
My mind flashed back to this incident. There was no way I was risking this again. However, a sound escaped my throat that sounded awfully like “yes”. Must have been distracted by that darned head of hair that I couldn’t stop gawking at…
I wondered if he would just marry me, right then and there… All my problems would be solved in that moment then. I wouldn’t be in an awkward situation with a stranger I’d just nicknamed “The Hair” and I wouldn’t be in an uncomfortable dress splashed in beer and I wouldn’t have terrible morning breath. Who doesn’t keep mouth wash in their bathroom, seriously?
I was more pissed off that I’d broken my own rule. Well, two of my own rules. The second one was in relation to totally jumping the gun. After breakfast, I knew I was never seeing this fella again. He was offering me a pity meal. He was rectifying both our mistakes by trying to be gentleman. It was too little, too late, mister. Not that I was against having breakfast with him – I needed more time to ogle at The Hair. I also needed more time to accept it for what it was and we wouldn’t be getting married any time soon.
This Sassy girl needs to find a better way to get a date. Tinder didn’t cut it, potential alcohol poisoning in a dive bar with the girls didn’t cut it; maybe it was time to bring in a professional. That would be for next time, maybe. Unless The Hair bothered to ask me my name or get my number at breakfast.
’Til next time, you Sassy bunch.
Ms. Sassy’s dating tip of the month: Never go home with a stranger in a bar, no matter how gorgeous his hair is. This is rule number one.