In cautarea alesului...experiente pe hi5... episodul 2

Asaaa….dupa o alta zi tracasanta de serviciu si de vacuum ( da, merg la beauty salon, doar ma pregatesc sa-mi cunosc alesul; nu vreau sa-l intampine si extremitatile mele cu aspect de coaja de portocala) am revenit in lumea virtuala unde un accident binevenit de instalatie subterana a scos la suprafata barbati cata frunza cata iarba. Sincer, incep sa cred ca ideea asta, cum ca ar fi mai putini decat noi, femeile, e o conspiratie care sa ne faca sa acceptam poligamia…hmmm…

In seara asta se-ncarca greu site-ul. S-o mai fi aglomerat intre timp!

Ooo, nu, nu se poate sa te cheme Toyomaki si sa fii luat in serios de o romanca. Asta n-o sa se-ntample niciodata. Nu ne-am potrivi la…semantica.

Am gasit unul frumusel ca o papusa kokeshi. Dar mie, sincer, imi pare minor….cat? 25??!!! Poate de dinti de lapte!

Hei, am gasit o poza cu 5 tipi. Astia vin la pachet? Sau macar e pe alese?

Oficial, sunt speriata de dantura japonezilor! De ce tin tot timpul maxilarele inclestate cand zambesc, de parca le-ar fi teama sa nu scape vreo boaba de orez printre dinti? Stii ce, daca pana la urma imi gasesc marea iubire in Tokyo, sigur n-o sa mai am nevoie de capsator. As reusi in sfarsit sa aplic si eu regula aceea minunata - imbina utilul cu placutul.

Si surpriza mare!! Peste ce dau eu chiar si cand aleg Japonia? “pitziponc metrosexual...cea mai tare asta )))). De bine ce ziceam ca vreau ceva exotic, dau peste “Ady”. Romanii astia sunt mai ceva ca evreii: peste tot in lume si chiar unde nici cu gandul percutezi. Si ca orice manelist respectabil, Ady are bermude albe si adidasi Puma albi. Fara sosete pentru ca el nu transpira. El e un fel de Chuck Norris autohton.

Incepe sa dispara amuzamentul. Acum pe toti ii cheama la fel. Patratele – patratele. Unii mai multe, altii mai putine. Cred ca trebuie sa-mi apgradez tastatura, nu face fata pretentiilor ero…sentimentale.
Sau poate ar trebui sa-mi caut un american…See ya, cowboy! Yeee-haw!

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Adevarul

For English version, please scroll down. Obisnuiam sa spun ca daca ar fi sa aleg intre a trai in adevar sau a trai in fericire, as alege adevarul. Nimic nu s-a schimbat. L-am cautat cu atata indarjire, incat acum, la aproape 28 de ani, mi-e teama ca sunt foarte aproape de a-l vedea in toata fragezimea lui, plesnindu-ma peste ochi cu vigoarea si sanatatea lui, indepartand cojile miturilor care mi-au tinut de cald atat vreme. Stau in fata unui boboc care inca nu s-a deschis, dar care, tachinandu-ma, face loc irisului meu curios in incaperile lui interioare, lasandu-ma la savurez cate o clipa a ceea ce mi se va infatisa in curand. Nu stiu cand a inceput calatoria mea. A fost cand am rupt legaturile dintr-o relatie abuziva in care mi-am consumat mai multe resurse emotionale decat credeam ca am? A fost cand am imbratisat cu devotament ideea tatalui meu cum ca nu exista nimic dupa moarte si m-am trezit intr-un paradox care tipa dupa explicatii? A fost cand mi-am dat seama ca mi-e frica de mo...

a cat's thoughts

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