One wedding down, one to go.
Boy was I tempting fate with Friday's post - and not in a good way.
To recap. No hired job - just more assignments. No lottery win, which, I guess, makes it a net loss. And of course no man.
Although it must be that I'm too picky, because I almost scored on the way back from the wedding.
At 3:30 am—yeah, the dinner and party were fun. The wedding mass was lovely until the priest decided to go on an anti same-sex marriage (and probably not a little homophobic) rant, which did give me the title for this post, so I guess I should be grateful.
As I was saying... At 3:30 am, the taxi dropped me home, or, more precisely, outside of the ATM next door, because he was rather adamant that I pay him, the moneygrubbing bastard. When I came back to his window in order for my newly acquired cash to change hands before I could get too attached, a man was already hopping in back, about which fact the driver was surprisingly none too happy. Apparently deciding that walking was better than having to hear the driver's griping, however, the man left the car. As I was crossing the street, he approached me, preceded by his perfume, a pungent mix of his own B.O. and, I assumed, the two kegs of beer he'd drunk —so far?— that night. He then proceeded to talk to me, which made me up my estimate. Make it three kegs then.
"Yes?" I replied calmly, while frantically wondering inside how in the world I could ever fend off the inevitable request for my purse.
"Can I go home with you?"
How irresistible can I get? It's anyone's guess.