Confessions of a singleton: when your chat-game sucks…

I swear to god, I was put on this earth to entertain. Entertain in a manner that pertains to destroying all future prospects of having kids, and not dying alone.

I met a guy on a night out in London on Saturday… again. Obviously, I’m not a normal person who meets people sober or in a coffee shop, well… one because I don’t drink coffee, and two because with Satan’s nectar (and a shit ton of makeup) I’m remotely appealing.

Anyway, I met a guy, a PT actually, from Tottenham who was on a night out with a few of his mates. Well dressed, over 18 (gotta be sure these days), taller than me, and a little bit of alright. He introduces himself to me, and the conversation ends up going a little something like this… in fact, exactly this…

Him: Hi, I’m Luke

Me: Hi, I’m Selina. *proceeds to look him up and down and with hand flailing at his dress sense* I love this… wait not this *madly thrusts hand in the direction of his face* I mean it’s nice, but I mean it’s cause of your three piece suit… which isn’t a three piece suit… but I’ve been watching Peaky Blinders so I’m a little bit in love with a three piece suit…

Lucy (my friend who was with me): Selina, stop talking, just stop…

Me: *face-palm*

Luke: Shall we start again?

Me: Sure, I’m Selina…

Please stop choking on your coffee, cuppa, gin, beer, or other item currently in your mouth. It’s hilarious, I’m well aware. I’m dying alone, I am also aware. But, I blame my recent obsession with Peaky Blinders, one too many whisky sours, too much gin, Prosecco, and being socially inept when it comes to meeting attractive men.

Luke did not talk to me again that night… I can’t understand why… 😉