For arguments sake

‘I don’t fucking care,’ he yelled. I knew he didn’t care, so why did his words create such a sharp pain, that slowly spread, making me feel numb?
Maybe that was the moment that I realised. The moment when things became clear. He really didn’t care. Not what strangers thought of him, not what friends thought of him. He didn’t even care what I thought. His lack of caring was so transparent now. So evidently obvious. He didn’t care, about anything, and I, like everything else fell into that category.

A small part of me had secretly hoped that maybe, just maybe this was a mask. He had to care right? Everyone, no matter how tough, cared about something or someone.
Well, the exception perhaps being psychopaths. They are Biologically wired in such a way that it wasn’t physically possible for them to care. And these people have a breaking point, a trigger, something that pulls them away from the restraints of civilisation and the rules and laws, that keep us safe, that keep us human.

Criminal investigation units create profiles on these people. They know what they are capable of, their limits and their triggers. But without a profile these people can be time bombs.

I felt numb from head to toe, with four little words, I had created a monster in my head. The careless man before me had gone from being a major jerk to a potential mass murderer.

But I composed myself, brushed the thought to one side and looked him in the eye. ‘Well I don’t fucking care either,’ I replied, ‘just bloody pick, Macdonalds or KFC…’

So okay, perhaps the numbness had been caused by hunger but nevertheless, I’m creating a profile, just in case.

Should you try anything once?

When embarking on an adventure to find a new man, one has to look at ones best at all times. Because no matter what people say, sometimes a sparkly personality just doesn’t cut it.

The age old question that every woman asks herself is ‘how do you make yourself look good without turning your life upside down though eating plans and exercise schedules?’
The answer clearly lay hidden within Zumba. So every Tuesday evening we would put on our Zumba appropriate outfits ( bright, over the top, not flattering in any light outfits) and we would attend a ladies only Zumba class.
The class was fun. We spent most of the hour laughing at each others uncoordinated attempt at replicating the instructors moves. Don’t be fooled though because at the end of the hour we were incredibly hot and absolutely exhausted. The best version of ourselves here we come!

We became regulars and we began to make friends with the other ladies there. During one lesson I noticed one lady continuously looking back at me. I flashed her a big smile thinking she must have felt sorry for me and my poor attempt at Zumba dancing. The instructor called a short water break and we all bounced to our bottles located at the side of the Zumba tent.
Resisting the urge to pour the water over my head marathon runner style I took a deep sip. ” Hello,” I heard a voice say, ” are you new here?”
It was the staring lady from earlier.
“No,” I replied, ” I have been coming for a few weeks now.”
This small chat continued for a couple more minutes until the music started up again, which was our cue to get back on the dance floor.
The lady continually to look over her shoulder at me, I was starting to feel a little paranoid and I began to wonder if I had something in my teeth.
Eventually the class finished and we stood talking to the instructor for a bit. I glanced over my shoulder and the staring lady was having a drink. Was that my bottle she was drinking from? I’m sure it was an accident though, it would be easy to confuse my flowery sports bottle with her Aquafina pure bottled water, water bottle, right?
She gave a little wave, I guess I was staring at her this time. I hope my mouth hadn’t been open as I stared at her in confusion. I dorkily waved back and wondered over.
“I like your hair,” she said.
Was this lady serious? I had just been getting my sweat on for the past hour. I was an absolute riot. This time my mouth my definitely open.
“Thanks,” I mumbled back. Not really sure how to respond, I picked up MY flowery water bottle and started to walk toward the exit.
She grabbed my wrist. “Do you want to get a drink with me?” She smiled at me, her head cocked to one side.
Was she serious? Had I been single that long that my body was giving out signals to everyone in my radius?
Would it be so bad to date a woman? Maybe it would be a nice change. My mind worked double time weighing up the pros and cons. Was I actually considering this? Could I be bisexual? They say that bisexuality is just a layover on the way to being gay. Am I gay?

Girls are beautiful, complex, hard to understand creatures. I can’t even understand my own decisions sometimes..
Stood in that Zumba tent questioning my sexuality I realised that I wasn’t gay. At least I didn’t want to be gay that day.
So I pulled my hand away and made my excuses.
I walked out of the Zumba tent and that was the last time I did Zumba. Maybe one day I might fancy a little bit of Zumba again. It was a nice feeling knowing that Zumba was there if I ever wanted to do a little bit of crazy dancing . But for the time being I didn’t want to go too far from the rock pool. Mermaids were possibly a touch too exotic for me.

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