'dar don't fail me now!

Well, children, it looks like once again optimism has won out over common sense. In a heartbreaking (if I'm going to be dramatic about it) revelation yesterday, I learned that indeed my boss that I'm in love with is a homosexual. Can I pack up my things and get a dick now? Life would be easier if I just resigned myself to the fact that being a gay man would be the only way that I'll ever get lovin' from the kind of men that I actually want to get lovin' from.

Unless, of course you take into account the black male population of New York City; they just can't get enough of me! The other day a fellow by the name of Cameo asked me if we could walk and talk for a few minutes when I was on my way out of the subway. In a flash of stupidity I agreed -- perhaps it was just the fact that I was mind-boggled by the proposition at all. Well, a few mumbles and awkward conversation later, I was like, "I really have to be on my way now." And I resumed my brisk pace of walking and Cameo was left in the dust. I've discovered that men have to walk fast to roll with me.

I gave into some 'it's my birthday, and I should get presents' selfishness this week and went shopping. Tuesday was slutty day, and I visited stores like H&M and Le Chateau, which was actually a mild success. Wednesday was 'get nice clothes on sale' day, so I went to Banana and Ann Taylor Loft. I officially can't buy red for another year as I ravished ATL's supply of coral/red shirts on the sale rack. I am officially now a pink person. Maybe I'm just weak and changing my ways in response to the dearth of blue out there these days, or maybe I'm trying to provide a physical representation of what a hot tamale I am. I'll never know, but I'll look damn cute trying to figure it out.

So, with the sad, sad news of the futility of another love interest, I must bid adieu because I'm going to spend the afternoon with "my kinda people" at a theater dance class uptown.

Birthday countdown: 2 days!