“He” might be reading this, the “professed love” man. That’s fine.
“He” might be reading this too, the “gorgeous flower-giving” man. That’s super fine too. His name is Skittles.
Taste the rainbow, isn’t that what they say?!
I’m so scatterbrained writing this, I know. I’m well aware of it. My “interesting” day came loaded to the brim with interesting people and interesting situations.
I headed into training tonight at Systems anticipating running into another “interesting” person – the Golden Nugget. I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks now and haven’t talked to him since he said I looked like a MILF and threw some additional inappropriate comments… jokes?!... my way. First of all, to be a MILF you have to have a kid, just saying. I responded with telling him to stay in school and was guilty of participating in the immature bickering back and forth of jokes-gone-too-far. I was texted today, just like I was last week, from a common friend of ours wanting to know if I was going to punch him the next time I see him. I thought it’d be funny to do the opposite – give him a massive hug. He was a no show at the gym tonight and rumor is he changed his training time because he knows he’s deserving of the crack to his nose I, as a mature woman, refuse to give him. “I’m professional”, I joked to my friend. “Forget being the mature one here, I don’t punch for free!”