SexyintheCity

When my previous ex cut the thread on me with much-awaited finality, God cometh forth and summoned a cushion and placeth it nicely under my ass for soft landing…eth.

And what a cushion he is.

He is 6′, built, immaculate hair, always geared in business-casual clothes, light skinned, cute beady eyes, a handsome mix of British and Filipino.

He came charging back into my life the day after the breakup. Well, actually he tried to charge back MANY times. He withstood 2 boyfriends of mine and he’s still around.

A phone call he made to me when I was still in a relationship consisted of “I tried calling you so many times for so many months and it wasn’t you I thought you hated me”, “Remember back in April when you punked me out 3 times? Well it looks like I’m about to get a strike out again tonight.”

He issued apologies later on for being under the influence of alcohol.

He’s like a bad pimple that won’t go away.

Thing is, I think he already has a significant other, possibly a little one too. I hear it and feel it when I’m hanging out with him and his friends. Yet he ain’t shy about me. I’m not really something that he feels he has to hide. But why bother?

I’m not losing anything. I’m not doing the chasing either. We don’t owe each other. And I am not hurt about the fact he may have someone else. But this makes it harder for me to trust men.

I guess there’s nothing wrong with being friends with an opposite sex that just happens to be ridiculously good looking right.

My ex once told me; for a girl there is no such thing as a guy friend. It’s either: he likes you, or he’s gay. God I hope he’s not gay.

I love Gossip Girl.  But I hated Chuck Bass’ character.  I could name one person I know personally who has the same personality as Chuck.  Perverted womanizer with busy hands.  There was a Chuck Bass once in my life, regretfully.  But my Chuck didn’t get far at all, much to his chagrin.   

Chuck is Ed Westwick in real life.  And I couldn’t quite figure out what his background was.  The eyes are chinky, but the face structure is that of a Greek god (that I love so much).  After some stalking, I learned that he is British.  Surprise surprise.

I’ve always had a thing for British guys.  Liam Howlett.  Liam Gallagher.  Gavin Rossdale.  Orlando Bloom.  And the newbie, Ed Westwick. 

While staring at Ed’s pics, holding back the drool and all, something dawned on me.  An epiphany of epic proportions.  It was unavoidable and impossible to notice, like a bad silent fart in a closed room.

The nose.

If you take Orlando’s nose.  Ed’s nose.  And.  My ex’s nose.  They all have the same nose structure!  That was it; smack right in the middle.  (Of the face).  Literally. 

I remember, when I was still irked with Ed’s character, there was a little part of me flailing and jumping, telling me that there’s definitely something I liked about him, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

Ahh yes.  Me and my nose fetish.  While other girls are focused on nice eyes and body on guys, I’m subconsciously zeroed in on a body part no one usually gives a crap about.  I don’t know why a strong sexy nose is important, it’s always the first thing I notice. 

Carry on drooling

After hearing my ex rave about how much he liked short hair on girls, I charged into the mall and chopped 10 inches of my hair that same day.  Pathetic I know, so eager to please a man.  A FATAL mistake any woman can make. 

Me and short hair don’t mix well together.  I hate it.  It’s just not me.  Along with the strands, my confidence flew out the window.  Yes my hair is growing back as fast as grass on a Chia but I can’t wait another half a year to have my original length back.

So I decided to cheat a little. 

Cost me a hundred dollars, but after months of putting it off, I’ve finally got myself clip-on hair extensions.  

Suddenly I find myself welcoming back my three friends; swagger, twinkle and spunk. 

I’m sick of being called “little girl”. 

Much to my horror though, I almost got picked up by a younger guy in the mall a couple of days ago.  I felt I was back in highschool, the frivolity of it all.  It was horrible. 

I’m 26.  I’m not cute.