then: when we make a point of situation.
what do you do when you're enamored of the man, seized with inexplicable narcissism appears on your screen in the form of photos Libertin / mincing in the company of a beautiful woman and the majority?
anything, you take a pear ice cream and progress. so he will have discharged a month and a half ago, you had to imagine that in these fifty days has not just made the sock - and cobwebs - like you.
nell'infelice and what you do when you attempt to teach him a lesson by travesti femme fatale you and breaks the heel of the sandal good even before setting foot you know where to meet him?
pretend to take it with humor and spend the evening wearing clogs Chinese gold of your friend who has the foot of Cinderella and stoically bear the pain and humiliation caused by the fact that around you is being held a festival on the footwear climbing. and in the meantime because if you hide the eye of the man of your dreams for the event were to fall below your waist, your horror caused by the incipient Obesity is caused by shoes that add anti-sexism.
and then decide whether to put a lid on it and hazards approach with such beautiful and conveniently obtuse that you just sent a message of freedom to accept his interpretation of ambiguous proffer and he does not hear anymore?
two hours after you stop talking to the phone and sing to yourself that song sugar that says "your brain does not weigh a pound" feeling many women and feminist in your crusade against male stupidity.
you united with her girlfriends and friends and decide to believe their promises of a better weekend.
and so when he arrives on Friday optimism oozing from every pore while you stick favorite t-shirt, strictly sporting and comfortable, and you think you approach it in the face of all those suffocating and beautiful models sporting the competition above. armed with the best intentions at a time you launch from the beach along with buddies all confident and hopeful that tonight we finally gives a kick in the ass to bad luck.
and so it seems! miraculously there are no familiar faces around, hold your shoes and wildlife that leaves anything to be desired!
the little man sitting in caseruoppolo is not bad, you take a ride over there and he makes you hello hello. their friends claim that it is done but complain about your little enterprise. also staged a gag order to feel a little more sympathetic, to loosen up a bit [the night is young!]. ah I understand you mean well, I pull my shirt down a little more. pity that your favorite shirt has almost a high neck.
you do when you is torn between the height of the roof right hands?
beginning to think that someone has laid eyes on him, that's what you do.
indeed take time to explain as much after this incident that has reduced your self esteem to zero farenehit you will see a man approaching middle age, armed with a trout's sense of humor trying in vain to convince you that the beach fusaro best of both lagoons, unspoilt Jamaica? can not be that bad luck, friend.
yet the greedy little man back there who handles money hidden in that niche you lit a flame of hope in the faint little heart aching, and so, rather than blatant no, that he still use your T-shirt torn tiger claw that is very exotic, and go buy to drink. hoping that he will incorporate the category of homegrown wonderwoman that people with clothes and clawed, the premises of the city.
miraculously he does: he gives you to speak and watering his mojito.
and so on and so on the evening passed without further incident, except clumsy attempts to conceal the glaring rip you chest and stands exhibiting a white bra at all appropriate to the occasion and your vain attempts at seduction. because although he has spoken to you and you've spent twenty euro for drinks at his banquet nothing and absolutely nothing is done that suggests a sympathy with you. but their friends say it's all because of your shyness. jump adds prunes away the branches of modesty and common sense that lodges in your brain and fired at him. you shall tell him to wait until tomorrow evening.
the day after you are certain, absolutely certain, that something will happen. you saw dirtydancing and there, between those bare feet and the faux rustic wooden tables you identified your future. a future of handsome men, navigated, but thoughtful, seasoned and ugly at the height of their seductiveness of revenge-flavored Coke with lemon and romanticism of the brand ford 69. as you straighten your hair if you think the baby has made you too can do it, the little man with the cash.
and we really believe, especially when off the car and aggressively you head to the cashier to pay him entry in Vanity Fair this further in whom thou considers the main protagonist, as' s At six dressed as Scarlett O'Hara, complete with billowing skirt.
what do you do if you approach known as a strange movement behind the counter and see a woman objectively sublime surrender his arms and kiss him in the sweetest way and that there is repulsive?
pray to the lord that the cause of those terrible pangs in the stomach are attributable all'allucinogeno that have vaporized into the air and that the scene you're seeing is not real but the friend who is with you , Women's hopelessly invaghitosi dell'omino blasphemy case because the entire calendar tonight and just tonight had suggested an approach. and blasphemy while hypnotically repeats that she is like the most beautiful woman in the world contributing to your total and irreversible depression.
happen when you do all these things together? you close your cocoon evil and plays Negramaro! what are you doing here!
while watching the stars and think of times when everything was easy and beautiful and sing you a serenade he does "not feel that I tremble and hide this stupid song happiness when you look at me do not feel that I shudder while singing is the sign of a summer that I wish would never end "and desperately hoping to see a shooting star one to ask to put an end to this wretched season.
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