Smoke Signals

Well, while I wait for that ‘one day in September’ my life plods forward, or more accurately, zig zags in the general direction of somewhere interesting. 

And with Valentines Day looming in just a scant few days, and despite occasionally being ‘involved’,  I find myself pondering the seriously crappy luck of always being bloke-free on THE day of leerve.  The only day of the year you might expect something exorbitant and sparkly for no other reason than he can’t stop thinking about you. 

Really really poor timing.

For someone like myself who’s ‘love currency’ is being ‘princess-ised’ this is a grave injustice.

For instance… go ahead and buy me a bunch of the most exotic and colourful flowers you can find and I will LOVE that, but honey… there better be two business class tickets to Paris in an envelope attached and a promise to kiss me at sunset at the top of the Eiffel Tower… or your chances  with me are probably a snowballs somewhere hot.

I’ve received the ‘thought that counts’ peck on the cheek and ‘Valentines day is a crock’  gift for so many years, I’ve got a couple of decades of ‘HELL YES, I actually do value you as much as this gift suggests’ to catch up on. 

Which might also explain why I am currently single. 

People often ask the question ‘ why ARE you single?’

And the answer is I have no idea… clearly I’m so close to perfect is just not measureable.

But in all seriousness, there are only two ways a girl can go once she has a few scars from the rounds before.

You either clasp at straws ( or the first dropkick that has the gall to grab your arse on the way past ) because you believe that is the best you can do and you better get it where you can…

Or…

You become VERY VERY wary.  Very very choosy. And believe you are worth the effort required to get past your siege-like defences. 

And while you are waiting for Prince Charming to show his mettle you devise a few terms and conditions.

That would be me.

And naturally Prince Charming need not arrive presented in a Ryan Reynolds-like wrapper, silver foxes will be accepted, and effort clearly taken will be noted just the same.

Ohhh… and get this…. Crushes feel exactly the same when you are grown up as they do when you are at school…

 who knew, right???

You lose just as much time dreaming away in delicious imaginary scenarios as you did back in the day.  Only this time, it’s the boss telling you to get back to work rather than the principal… with a lot less little hearts over your ‘i’s too… which at this point I’m thinking is a good thing.

So this year, while I toil away at my desk on Valentines Day  with no expectation of beautiful  flowers, haighs chocolates and Thomas Sabo glittery things arriving across it, I’ll still have my daydreams of a parallel universe where the ‘crush man’ acknowledges my existence,  to raise the temperature of the day.

And word to the wise, don’t send me smoke signals,  honestly, subtlety is completely  lost on me… he’d have to drag me back to his cave by the hair before  I figured out he was interested anyway… LOL

Or simply talk to me.  That works.

for example:  a recent conversation with friends:

Lisa: so he's just bragging when he tells me his room number, right...
Friend:  pfffftt... are you kidding... honey, you're supposed to turn up with nothing more than a trench coat, hooker heels and a sexy smile... 
Lisa:  Seriously ????    no...um.... reeeeally??
        I doubt that's what was meant...  
                                                no, wait...      Really????



smoke signals have too many interpretations...so confusing.

Happy Valentines Day, I hope your heart catches on fire with the elation it just cant contain… I hope the kisses you get are filled with promise ….and from a way better wordsmith than myself…

‘if its not madness,

                             its not love’…

Mwah  xoxoxo