Hormonally Horrible
I'm ovulating.
And I know that not because of some weird app that tracks aunt flow's monthly visitations, but because I'm having a "fuck my single life" moment. Or FMSL.
Once a month I get really sooky. Like tempted to text my ex for an obviously disastrous any other time of the month reunion type sooky. Everywhere I turn there's motherfucking couples holding motherfucking hands and being all motherfucking cute and shit. And then there's me holding my own hand thinking about my cat.
For the most part I really dig being a solo senorita, who can spend as much money at Kmart and flirt with as many unsuspecting innocent male bystanders as she likes. But these ovulation-induced relationship pangs really make my single girl spasms start to hurt. And I find myself reevaluating and reimagining every encounter with the opposite sex that I've ever had. Shitty ex-boyfriends become born-again potential hubsters. Drunken foolish one night stands begin to seem remarkably reasonable. And plus-one porn becomes unsettlingly unwatchable. It's hard out there for a pimp, and a single nearly-thirty year old chick.
So for the next few days I'll be secretly cursing any and every twosome I come across, or even worse, I'll be picturing them breaking up because the man comes to his senses and realises I'm a rad bitch he can't live without. But then once the hormones subside and my biological clock kicks back into dormancy, I'll go back to kicking romance's ass and not taking every lad's name. And the couples of the world can keep on coupling on without a crazy lady shooting them deathstares and fantasizing about their demise anymore.
Being a girl is fucking hard man.
Until next time,
Ruby 'Hormonally-deranged' Knight xx
And I know that not because of some weird app that tracks aunt flow's monthly visitations, but because I'm having a "fuck my single life" moment. Or FMSL.
Once a month I get really sooky. Like tempted to text my ex for an obviously disastrous any other time of the month reunion type sooky. Everywhere I turn there's motherfucking couples holding motherfucking hands and being all motherfucking cute and shit. And then there's me holding my own hand thinking about my cat.
For the most part I really dig being a solo senorita, who can spend as much money at Kmart and flirt with as many unsuspecting innocent male bystanders as she likes. But these ovulation-induced relationship pangs really make my single girl spasms start to hurt. And I find myself reevaluating and reimagining every encounter with the opposite sex that I've ever had. Shitty ex-boyfriends become born-again potential hubsters. Drunken foolish one night stands begin to seem remarkably reasonable. And plus-one porn becomes unsettlingly unwatchable. It's hard out there for a pimp, and a single nearly-thirty year old chick.
So for the next few days I'll be secretly cursing any and every twosome I come across, or even worse, I'll be picturing them breaking up because the man comes to his senses and realises I'm a rad bitch he can't live without. But then once the hormones subside and my biological clock kicks back into dormancy, I'll go back to kicking romance's ass and not taking every lad's name. And the couples of the world can keep on coupling on without a crazy lady shooting them deathstares and fantasizing about their demise anymore.
Being a girl is fucking hard man.
Until next time,
Ruby 'Hormonally-deranged' Knight xx
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