short run dates

In the age of short hand it feels like my ego has been infected with the anti social bug. It’s a long time I stood before a stranger and angled in their face what I felt and wanted to do to their slippery bodies gliding before my eyes.

Spent long dreary hours before my chrome browser perusing through catchy lines that I would use to sweep my prey off their feet but every time its D day my tongue suffers a still birth. My face muscles bulge and tears do a kiprotich down my cheeks from my eyes from the feeling of disappoint when my would be prey not only rejects my proposal but even gives me a lecture on how to ask a girl out on a date certified with a hot slap from her palms that I thought i would be holding as we walk down the street and into the moon.

My desperation has even driven me to glue my attention onto the snappy telanovelas on television in the hope that my real life reality show will close with an actuality and have a happy ending. An ending with chapters overflowing with candle lit dinner, smiles bent and embed in jokes that will see us playing in the Jacuzzi before jumping into the sheets only to wake up to breakfast with no memories of yester night drawn on my camera lens.

Talking of lenses, those are some of the gadgets I acquired after drowning in this tale how this dude couldn’t stop picking girls out of his sheets. His magic trick was to ambush his prey with opportunity to snap them while in the process he then laid before them his advances at how the person in the picture wasn’t even half as good as the real girl. Reading this literature made everything look so easy but in reality all I have got is a memory card full of pictures and sadly I never even got to know their first name and wet painted beards of their lips planting kisses on my cheeks at how me and my camera are the best of twins and should keep up the good which good work I thought was meant to be in her pants but fuck it looks like am not getting even a touch.

Don’t be mistaken that am keeping my net round my feet only, I have flag the stupid thing far and wide and done all the tricks like ambushing them solos, attacking the group, running rings around their heads with sick word play, throwing money at them and even doing the stupid favours but it looks like karma just hates me. I remember this girl I had in the palm of my heads, her nickname round campus was gucci Elle due to her love for accessories. I did all the nitty gritty in the hope that she was returning only to one day trip into her legs wide open, chest thumping searching for breath under a guy whom I always joked that not even a mental case would fall for him. My jaw dropped too hard I could feel my eye balls pop out my sockets as my teeth flew out my mouth. I slowly turned around like clockwork embracing my single-hood and cried myself to the next one. Lately animal planet has been my channel of choice because the female on it aren’t so sophisticated like the bikini wearing humans and neither are they so much differentiated from the males thus I don’t fill poked in wounds and will head straight for the bulls eye. Directly as a broken arrow I ask you for a date, just once chicken style no beating round bush…………………..


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