|Blogs > rm_piewinch > Up for the Down Stroke|
I am a terrific matchmaker. In the past six months, I have facilitated no less than four matches - specifically, one one-night stand, two (ultimately abortive) attempts at dating that lasted for one or two months, and a serious, long-term relationship comprising two slightly insecure and very virginal young friends. I also attempted to find a sugar mommy for an ex-boyfriend of mine, but so far no one seems to be biting.
"If I'm so damn good at hooking my friends up with one another, how come I can never find anyone for myself? And why is it that they always turn out to be crazy?" I ponder, as I eat my third apple of the day.*
But I think that what goes around, comes around. Sooner or later I will experience a sudden, mysterious reversal of fortunes.
This weekend, I'm going snowboarding with a girl I have a huge crush on. (Who has just recovered from leukemia. The bone marrow transplant she got from her brother makes her half a man. Maybe that's why she's the first girl I've ever had a crush on). I will try to resist the urge to fall on her while we are out on the mountain.
Next weekend, I'm having the tables turned on me by my former beau, Maniac Love (so called because of the Aoyama club where we first met). He wants me to meet a childhood friend of his who he thinks I would "to---tally get along with". All of Maniac Love's friends are cool, so I doubt that he will steer me wrong. Word has it that the friend is tall, pasty, kind of psychotic looking (okay, maybe not) and an avid reader (like me!) - which are all good things in my book.
*Part of a disastrous attempt at getting back to my pre-holiday weight.