Jiles and Gladys have been trying to find me a man [but of course you know that from Gladys' animated post earlier]. I have a feeling this is going to be an on-going thing. And not that I mind that much-- but they really need to choose better men.
For example, the major areolae escapade of the day was when we went to ye olde YMCA this evening. Cycling was more of a success tonight; we had a different instructor who showed us a way to sit on the seat so our "soft tissue" wouldn't get hurt.... and you guessed it, he was male.
Instantly Gladys and Jiles perked up, bright eyed and alert. My house mates and I started peddling, and sure enough, the dream team of the areolae world kept nodding suggestively at him. About twenty minutes into the class, they were signaling to him like I was a single, drowning woman in need of a suave biker to ride over an pull me out of a pool of sweat. They might as well have told me to open my mouth and scream, "COME HITHER!!!" to the poor man. I admit that at first I questioned his sexuality, but his smile, humor, and tiny biking shorts soon sucked me in. He almost made me fall off of my bike laughing. Gladys had almost talked me into asking Dave [sexy instructor extraordinaire] for his number after class-- you know, in case I was looking for new biking shoes or something.
And then he moved his hands to get a different grip on his handlebars.
And then I saw the ring.
Needless to say, Gladys and Jiles wilted like dying flowers from the disappointment and the river of sweat pouring over them. I told them that the next man they target had to be single, unless it was Alec Baldwin.
Now I am tired and still hopelessly single; my only male prospect is a man who cries after watching musicals with me (which might be another story for another time...). I am going to tuck my areolae into bed now. Oh, and they wanted me to tell you all to have a goodnight.
-The Miss
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