Cosmopolitan.au suggested to go party! as one of their tips to overcome a break up. Being a Cosmopolitan-ian, I suckered up at that idea.
Took up an aquantaince's invite and joined them partay, so to say. I walked into the club. Saw this tall, oh-so-handsomely-hot bouncer. Reminds me of Divemaster. Damn, not a good start. And then as the lousy music carried on, I saw more tall men. Reminded me of my Divemaster again. Every cute guy I see, there would be something in him I link to my Divemaster - his shirt, his hair, his eyes, his Oakleys, his Adidias sneakers...
I was feeling miserable surrounded by ah beng's & ah lian's oh-so-in-love. One of the guys put his arms around my shoulders and guided me through the crowd. Reminded me of my Divemaster again, how he always protect me from cigarette ashes and empty glasses by sheilding me in his arms.
I was already downright moody. Even the chubby Malay bouncer tried to jiggle to make me laugh. Failed. One of the guys asked who is driving me home - I farking drive myself home, I said. I got a look of a gazillion sympathies.
As I was driving home alone, I saw a silver Nissan Sentra beside. Every silver Sentra reminds me of my Divemaster.
Damn. That Cosmo tip did not work. Made me feel worst. I constantly think of him 28/7.
Michelle is trying to get some sleep. Hopefully she feels better tomorrow?
She reeks of beer & smoke. Sounds like Kermit the Frog, after 17 sticks of Fresh Mint.