It’s times like this I don’t mind being single.

Sunday afternoon and what am I doing? Slowly nursing a J&C at my local haunt.

No one to answer to. No one to deal with. No one to wait on and entertain.

I can be by myself.

Single-hood is a strange thing; a tight rope of sorts.

Yes, there are times where I’m so lonly it hurts. Usually it’s somewhere between 1/3 a bottle of Wild Turkey and a bad episode of Threes Company. You know, when you crack a joke about Mr Roper being into shizer and no one is there to giggle and slap you playfully on the shoulder for being gross.

Yet there’s times like these…

Times where you owe nothing to anyone (save for your tab), enjoy the melodic sounds of a quarter-full bar and crack jokes to the stranger next to you.

So there you have it. The first post I’ve had in months. What the Hell am I trying to say?

Nothing, now shut the fuck up as I hit on this tattooed broad with daddy issues at the end of the bar.

…Hopefully she’ll believe my story ‘bout being a photographer for the Suicide Girls.