WLTM . . .
No one could say I don’t lead the life of riley. Working one day a week for a fantastic wage is more than acceptable one thinks. Especially when the other six are spent either on the beach in a remote tropical island or groping over sexed solders in the Falklands. I even find time to write these little witty columns for your amusement.
However, just recently one has been feeling like something is missing, like having a Jack Daniels without coke and ice, or Geri Helliwell without the smell of desperation. I’ve been looking for what has been missing; my Jean Paul Gautier make-up, a Victoria Wood DVD from my collection, a pair of Aussiebums, my designer stubble and charm? All there present and correct.
I did however have a Eureka moment; I actually had it whilst I was surrounded by a platoon of extremely hot army boys with more muscle than a seafood casserole. You see I was sat down in the NAAFI bar with my gorgeous MacBook, I think it makes me look like Carrie Bradshaw, when I was looking at old photos and suddenly I came face to face with my ex boyfriend for the first time in 18 months.
I have been single since I found myself climbing through his window; it’s a common enough situation to find your self in after ten Sambuccas. I have enjoyed being single, it’s nice to not have to answer to anyone. But, just recently I have found myself missing having that special someone to come home too. Maybe I’m an old romantic, I do like sending flowers or coming home to find that a bath has been run for me, with lit candles and a nice bottle of red wine.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m down here in the Falkland Islands so far away from home and being with someone here would make it that little bit more comforting. Either way I think it’s about time I found myself a nice gentleman friend to settle down with in Manchesterford.
Now I’m not desperate at all, I’m quite happy to wait for ‘the one’ to come along and sweep me off my feet, but in the mean time if you have a single friend, feel free to give them my number. I don’t mind too much about a little bad breath, and I’m not to bothered about a sense of humour or a little body odor. The use of all limbs is also not essential; neither is having all of your own teeth. I also will not hold a history of mental health problems against them. One thing that is essential however is a pulse, but like I say, I’m not desperate. . . .