Hmm.

So as I was trucking my way down to Granville Island this afternoon (it was going to be my Canadian Mall installment today, but that didn’t happen for several reasons, one of which being the water ferries suck), this guy comes running up behind me, stops me, and basically says that he saw me by the Cambie bridge and “thought I looked fascinating.” Then he gave me his number.

Cool, right? Yeah, except there was no way he was younger than 50.
Nothing wrong with older guys, of course. It’s just that I know from my, um…experience, I tend to attract the creepy older guys.
Stalker Dave.
Creepy Andy.
That weird married guy that decided to follow me everywhere for a bit.
The half blind guy who…yeah, he’s, um…yeah.

Interesting times. Should I give him a call?

OH, and so after missing all three buses required to get home (and having to subsequently wait 30 minutes for each of the next buses), I finally got on the 41 and spent the whole ride home with a guy’s crotch in my face. Quite literally. I had a seat but the bus was super crowded and the guy who was standing in the aisle next to me just happened to be the perfect height for crotch-to-face action.

He was kinda pudgy, though, so I didn’t mind too much.

And the fact that I just rationalized the crotch-attack of a perfect stranger as something I “didn’t mind too much” is proof of how ridiculously lonely I am up here.
 I haven’t had physical contact since December, and even that was very brief.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF I need love.