Tuesday, 26 October 2010
I tend to choose my outfit based on how I'm feeling. Those feelings could range from bloatedness, to unattractiveness and on some lucky days, to sexiness. So I dress according to how I feel. However, now that I've stopped working it's far easier to pick an outfit, mainly jeans and a jumper. Half the time I don't even have to bother with ironing, the only positive thing about winter. Our coats tends to cover a lot of our inadequacies.
However how I dress determines if I'm going to get any advances from the opposite sex and to a certain extent the kind of guy that will show an interest in me. There are days when I don't pay much care to my dressing and I get the odd winks from pot bellied old men. Obviously this infuriates me but I immediately know why they think they could have a chance with me. However there are some days when I feel I'm totally chick and some dodgy looking fella with skin blacker than charcoal walks by with a limp and decides to make a pass at me. On such days I actually hate myself more than the unfortunate man that chose to fancy me. I don't know if I'm an isolated case but I'm often left feeling as if something had gone seriously wrong with my look, attracting such a person. I wonder if it's the cheap clothing or the fact that I just look like 'the sort'.
These days I actually don't attract guys that I think are 'correct' except in close gatherings. For some weird reason all the 'inbetweens' have evaporated into thin air. Only ugly mofos or some skinhead in saggy pants seem to take a shine to me these days. The last time a young likeable bloke fancied me was on the tube and he was too bloody shy to ask for my digits until I got to my stop. I mean how does that help and how exactly did I get here? Sometimes I try to console myself that since london is full of attached or married men, these guys actually see and fancy me but force themselves to look away because of the massive temptation I pose to them and of course the threat to their peaceful romantic arrangements. Yea I know, in my dreams.
I think I need a re-vamp of my wardrobe. I know I certainly don't walk the streets of London announcing that I am attached so I don't see any reason why that guy with the perfect bum doesn't think I'm approachable. Yes I've been told I walk around with a frown on my face which doesn't help, but there's been times I've smiled at a bloke in a crowded place and they've looked away. Well maybe the picture is not as grim as am painting it, but heck why do I even need to smile to get a guy's attention in the first of place. The glory of my presence alone should send them coming and then I'll have the liberty to say no thanks, I'm not available!