Oh, good grief. Men play such petty little games. They want to go out and then they donâ€™t want to go out and then they might want to go out but theyâ€™re not sure. What? Do you think Iâ€™m sitting here painting my toenails and reading Cosmo waiting for you to make up your mind what your schedule is going to be?
What is this? A nation of wimpy men? All talk and no action? Iâ€™m really sick of all these men with their mixed signals. Not putting up with it.
Yeah, I know, itâ€™s not true. The last guy I dated was way too pushy and clingy at the same time. This oneâ€™s just…indecisive as hell but not enough to say, here, Lorna, you make all the decisions, which Iâ€™d be happy to do.
This time tomorrow night, Iâ€™ll have something for the weekend penciled in. Whatâ€”or whoâ€”remains to be seen.
I guess Iâ€™m playing Goldilocks right now. Last porridge was too hot. This oneâ€™s too cold.
And what the hell is porridge anyway?