Mr Wolf part 2

Part one of the love story can be viewed here.

I could not believe it. I mean I don’t know why but I felt deceived. He kissed me on my cheek. There must be something about these cheeks that makes these guys just go for it (see Mr Sweden take 2). I think it’s happened since I have ditched the Anastasia contour kit and headed for the L’Oréal True Match Cappuccino as a bronzer. After he kissed me, I told him I liked him but then he went nuclear. He had a BOYFRIEND and he was BISEXUAL.

For once, I was lost for words. This was more levels of complexity than I had ever anticipated. What new territory am I entering? Am I now a bisexual? What even am I? I am totally lost. I now know what Red Riding Hood felt like when she came home and found the wolf dressed as her Grandmother.
I looked at him. How dare he kiss these perfectly contoured cheeks?! Who did he think he was? He lied. He gave me a little drip of his oasis and then he threw me Into the Saharan desert. I no longer wanted to be Lawrence left hungry in the dry, desolate desert. The sand storm had started and those perfectly bumpy dunes under his shirt had collapsed into a flat expanse of nothing.

He looked at me and told me it was a recent relationship. Although I could tell he was man of his morals (minus the kiss on the cheek). He wanted to do right by his man. God, usually I am really confident that I am hotter than most girls but was I hotter than this guy? I had never competed with a guy before. Not that I would even go there, as I hated deception. My head was spinning. This was all too much.

Days went by and nothing from him. I knew he could find me if he wanted and I am not talking about going through a kingdom with a glass slipper either. It would be easy for him to find me again. Now sober, I really think he should have apologised for that peck on the cheek. Was I in the wrong? No, definitely no. I rarely text first. I just can’t. It’s just beaten into my genetics through years of natural selection. For example, the male Frigatebirds display their large throat sacs to signal to the ladies as their initial move (see sac below). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want any sac displays but just a sign of remorse. I guess in a metaphorical sense dating me is most akin to Porcupines (see link for more info on these animals) ritual of picking a partner. The females signal to the men that they are ready by taking a piss (literally in this case) and then the men follow the scent for miles to come and fight and compete for her. I was not impressed by his efforts of redemption. Why could he not be a porcupine? What did I care? This big bad wolf was not blowing my house down. I was arranging for a date with Mr Italy. I was going light on the contour as I did not want another cheek incident.

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