BRUTAL REVIEW

Today is a day for wonton. I just don't know where. Someplace bustling and noisy, and probably just before noon. Due to my ex having a fine old time with her squeezy boo, this blogger has been a bit down in the dumps lately, so it's time for happy food. At a time of day when no one is smooching over their meal, or making sickening little cooing sounds at someone else.

I don't need to observe hormones in action.

Or hear her phone conversations.

Ick poo. In big buckets.


[I still see her on a regular basis, because we still share the same apartment. In San Francisco, you just don't give up on someone you trust around your sh&t, period. The alternative is much higher rent, and a crackhead schizophrenic psychopath -- or a computer programmer -- as your new apartment mate. Please don't tell me that it's "unhealthy"; I live in San Francisco, I should know from unhealthy?]


No, I do not wish to rekindle the relationship. What's over is over, and she's involved with someone else now. It's been the better part of four years, and our lives and personalities have changed too much.
Still. Twenty one years. I feel more than a little cheated.
There are fewer social options than there were.
Especially for someone of my age.
Which is a young 54.

Yes, I also realize that I can't stand most modern women. I've read too many profiles on OK Cupid, and concluded that none of them are my type. Whatever that is.

You, dear reader, probably think you know what my type is. Certainly a few of you have left comments indicating as much. Please stop thinking that. You could not be more wrong.

My type is probably crazy.

She'd have to be.


Other than briefly listing my usual bugaboos, I shan't mention what's wrong with modern women.

Bugaboos:
Tattoos, handbags, cellular devices.
Drugs. Booze. Superficiality.
Nearly illiterate.
Vacuous.

Most of them are twits, and a complete waste of time.

With minor edits, the same goes for males.

Europeans. Asians. Americans.

Almost everyone.


The moment has come to rekindle my love-affair with food. And to re-occupy my mind with all the books I have never finished because someone wanted to talk.


There's time enough for that now.


This is the age for anthroping very much mis.


At which, unsurprisingly, this bachelor totally excels.




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