Bridget Jones has nothing on my running protege Sarah – read and chortle.
My friend Julian’s advice is unequivocal:
“Get a man.
Get your head down.
Not necessarily in that order.”
(He’s not that brave, because he sent this in an email rather than saying it to my face).
The truth is, I would love to “get a man”, as Julian puts it. But I can’t seem to find one who wants me; who I want back. And if I do find someone, it’s not for long – they have too recently been someone else’s, are married (but forget to tell you when asked outright), and it’s no fun being the rebound girl.
All of a sudden, no one wants to take me out for dinner (seemingly not being worth a starter, main course and half a bottle of wine) and arrangements are made by text – and cancelled, often at short notice, the same way. More modern men will of course use…
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