The Platonic Buy, Boy, Whatever

I blame the headlined article in LifeStyle today.

I wondered aloud why single attractive female millionaires couldn’t even get a decent casual date. Was age truly the factor? Where were all the eligible men? Of which the latter was the perennial stupefying question that my gaggle of single, attractive and intelligent girlfriends with big personalities to boot never fail to, er, fail to answer.

Mr Dimples let known that incidentally his guy friend asked him the same question the other day, albeit from the male’s perspective: why are they, single attractive, eligible young men, so single? Were they too picky?

Which of course, as I reminded him over brunch at Wild Rocket, the presumptuous rhetoric presupposed that there were actually fruit for the pickings. Were there fruit of any labour and leisure at all to be harvested?

So we launched into a pretty long discussion with each of us representing our sex and trying to reconcile why, if there were eligible men and women who are looking for dates and partners, that it seldom and rarely happens to the friends around us: referring to The Hook-up

Somehow, in the course of arguing for my side, I let spilled the ex-existence of Mr Veins and declared I was over with waiting for any guy to make a move. Either they move, or I move on and everything is easily dismissed as casual and coincidental.

While this is sheer violation of the self-imposed law to avoid talking about relationships with a guy on a one-to-one basis, I was hugely relieved that I did. Strange.

Now that I think about it, probably because I can now officially placed Mr Dimples in the platonic category, that I decided to tell him about Mr Veins in the appropriate context.

Of course, I think this with a tinge of wistfulness. As we sat in his car and drank Baileys and chatted for the last bit of the evening, I concluded he is really a nice and obliging guy. Very eligible.

But like I say, I’m over with waiting. No more agonizing over whether every next date is the one the guy will proclaim and propose.

It’s just lunch. It’s only dinner. Let’s chill and cheer with Baileys. Thou shalt not think, much less analyse, because there is nothing to fret the brains with, really. Really.

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In other news, I was quite tempted to buy my first designer bag and the one that caught my one was a LOEWE Amazona. It was affordable, that is, if I don’t buy anything else (or eat, or drink, but that’s beside the point) for the rest of this month. A limited edition It Bag, it was the last standing in the store and in Asia. With mock prudence, I insisted I had to think about it, even with Shimin egging me on. Now 1.5 days later, when I returned today with Mr Dimples in tow to DFS, it has been sold. I don’t even have the pseudo enjoyment of struggling and straddling between the ethical dilemma of to buy and the not to.

Do I really have to settle an LV?!