Yada yada blah blah blah
A watched pot never boils.
Only when you stop searching will you find what you're looking for.
The best things come to those who wait.
Patience is a virtue.
This all may be so, but in matters of love? Not only is it excrutiating to hear, but you want to sorely box the ears of the teller.
I'm a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, a silly girl with fanciful, movie star dreams of love. Give me Shakespeare, give me William Thatcher, give me Achilles - where are their real-life counterparts?
Is it silly to desire a love full of passion and fire? Is it too much to ask to be recited poetry? Will I never find that knight in shining armor who would defend me to the death?
I have been watching too many movies, apparently. Because the more I look around me, the more I see the leering faces of men who I will never give the time of day to. Slobbering, lascivious, beer bellied, neanderthals that couldn't even spell Shakespeare, let alone recite me a sonnet. Where is my Romeo? Am I destined to have to wade through the putrid sea of testosterone filled society to find that one guy, not a perfect guy but the perfect guy for me, the equal mix of manly and sensitive, the poet and the punk rocker?
Sigh. Yep.
I'm gonna go throw up now.
Only when you stop searching will you find what you're looking for.
The best things come to those who wait.
Patience is a virtue.
This all may be so, but in matters of love? Not only is it excrutiating to hear, but you want to sorely box the ears of the teller.
I'm a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, a silly girl with fanciful, movie star dreams of love. Give me Shakespeare, give me William Thatcher, give me Achilles - where are their real-life counterparts?
Is it silly to desire a love full of passion and fire? Is it too much to ask to be recited poetry? Will I never find that knight in shining armor who would defend me to the death?
I have been watching too many movies, apparently. Because the more I look around me, the more I see the leering faces of men who I will never give the time of day to. Slobbering, lascivious, beer bellied, neanderthals that couldn't even spell Shakespeare, let alone recite me a sonnet. Where is my Romeo? Am I destined to have to wade through the putrid sea of testosterone filled society to find that one guy, not a perfect guy but the perfect guy for me, the equal mix of manly and sensitive, the poet and the punk rocker?
Sigh. Yep.
I'm gonna go throw up now.