Ever had one of those days that turn into weeks where the only text you get all day is one from the guy who washed your boss’s car once?  And it was in Spanish.  Yeah, well I have.

I call it “the drought.”  It’s funny how life is, when it comes to boys ; when it rains it really pours.  It may not be pouring rain that smells like roses, or pouring the stuff that creates rainbows, but at least it’s something right?  I seem to get dates in 3’s and 4’s and calls and texts in the same sort of pattern.

The drought seems to strike the moment you realize you are totally alone.   You have good friends to get drinks with and boys to flirt with, but that empty toothbrush holder is just that, empty.  And that side of the bed does not get quite as tousled as your side.  Nor do you make breakfast for two.  Which is fine in your cute studio apartment with hardwood floors. But it would be nice on a sunday morning. . .

So the only logical thing to do is keep your head up and embrace your solitude.

Remember,  men are like subway trains, there is always another one coming. . .

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