I officially hate hook-ups.

It's always embarrassing to have your friends play a role in your romantic life, especially when they insinuate that you're useless when it comes to the opposite sex. Hook-ups make me feel pressured and nervous, like I owe it to somebody to make this guy fall for me.

So what happened last night WASN'T on my Top Ten Best Dating Experiences list.

The date was made on Wednesday, for the movies Friday night, and I won't lie, I felt fussy! I was looking forward to it like my next barbequed spare rib. He seemed calm, quiet...on the shy side. And he was fine. I was willing to give him a chance to compensate for being a smoker. One movie couldn't hurt, right?

Last night I took extra care to look cute without looking like I tried to, and I set out to meet him.
I was on my way to a lovely evening I told myself cheerfully, so imagine how loud the sound was, of my bubble bursting, when my girl called to say he wasn't coming and she didn't know why.

So I called him up of course, handling both my cel and the steering wheel in a risky move. Long story short, he freaked out, said he didn't want to put himself in a position where a serious relationship was a possibility, and made plans to go with some other woman to Harbour Lights instead.
There I was being all nervous, and I didn't even get the chance to show that I can be a safe kinda chick to hang with. He didn't even bother to call me himself....I would have gone done there and waited around for him like a total idiot. I feel like screaming just thinking about it.

But hey, it's okay because he said he was sorry. Jerk.

Big ups to Lani for having my back so I wouldn't have to spend the night at home moping.

I finally got to use the "weekend for two" at the Plum Tree Resort, which I won in a dance competition. Don't mind I didn't have a significant other to make up the "two", I went just the same!
Right after I checked in, I decided to meander around to the pool area. I was just leaving to go meet some friends for a movie, when I noticed someone trying to get my attention.
I turned around, there was a well-muscled youth, clad only in swim-trunks, striding quickly up to me.
Wow, I thought, I LOVE this place!
Turns out "Dave" had been looking high and low for any guests his age since the average person around there was 80 plus. Unfortunately, he was leaving the next day, and I was leaving right then to go see a blasted movie. Curses.

Saturday afternoon, I made sure I found myself in the pool. Of course I was the only one. If it's one thing I noticed about the old folk there, they never actually go INTO the water...they just sit AROUND it....for hours even. Like ancient wildebeest at a croc-infested watering hole.
Maybe they knew something I didn't.

Fast Forward to Saturday Night.
I can't believe I let 'em coerce me into goin' to Club Xtreme. Every time I think about it, spending $40 to party just seems more and more insane. Drinks free or not. I especially have a problem with paying to have my lungs polluted, since every other person in there is puffing on a damn cigarrette, the foolish goats.

I absolutely HATE it when you start checkin' for a fella, and then find out he's one of THEM. A smoker.
I tellya, one can go crazy agonising over whether to throw away one's principles and overlook that one flaw, in favour of (to use Govie's phrase) "the hotness".