The Dating Thing

Getting back into the dating mainstream isn't as hard as it looks. For one, you'll never run out of friends who are willing to sacrifice THEIR friends on the altar of your loneliness. Secondly, you don't even have to look. There are guys crawling out of the woodwork. Or the fiber optic cable. Unfortunately, crawling is a pretty apt term. We have the weirdos, the super weirdos, the kinky weirdos, the sex maniacs and the crazy idiots. And of course the crazy two-timers and the closet queers.
Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being queer. Just don't go into self denial and a macho rampage to reassure yourself. 
I do, however, take exception to the two timers. I AM NOT A KABIT. No way. So please, please stay as far away from me as possible. I don't care how much you adore my little toe or think i look hot in skirts. I will NEVER date a guy with a gf, or worse, a wife. Not even under the guise of being friends. Do NOT piss me off. I am having my period and will raise hell if i have to.
 
Here's the thing. I am starved for affection but i don't like being touched. I really DON'T like being touched. As in I go crazy when i am touched inappropriately at the wrong time. As in you'll wish you were dead when i am done with you. But I like little thoughtful gestures. Is that so darn much to ask?
I don't like being kissed with slobber. I don't like being kissed, period. So a little finesse lang, please. Don't push me. I am not a ST. Bernard.
Waaah am ranting and raving like an idiot. Forgive me, it's my period.
 
I have to show up for my geog class tomorrow. And i have dance practice tonight. And I have that goddamned geography report to finish before 8AM. What the hey is going on? At least after this i can go hom to makati. And it's going to be the most hectic schoolweek i've ever had in seven years of college. Hmmm. Maybe it IS about time i got involved.
I am going to be dancing to Missy Elliot's Work It and BEP's Hey Mama. I will be wiggling (or attempting to wiggle) my butt to the macarena and doing high kicks. Me. The girl who got kicked out of ballet school twice. Me. The one who had to be dragged kicking and screaming across the floor for her debut cotillion. Yes. Me. And it's my damned period. Dammit.
I need a hug.
*buries her head under her blanket and starts howling.