The 30-year-old virgin

Embracing patheticness

I needed a refill on my asthma medicine. I couldn't get in to see my regular doctor, so I went to a walk-in clinic. The doctor asked me the standard questions: do I smoke, how long have I had asthma, how well controlled is it, etc.

But then he asked one that most doctors shy away from. 'You haven't got anything stupid, like pets, have you'?

I have asthma, eczema, and allergies. And I have two dogs.

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand at me dismissively. He wrote me the prescription, and left the room without another word or even a glance. He'd clearly written me off as some kind of self-deluded moron.

The truth is even more shameful. I'm not a moron. I know full well that my dogs may contribute to my allergies. But they're just about my only friends. They're my family. Without them my life would be devoid of warmth, affection, and meaning.

Sexy

During my recent holiday in London I fell in love. Just briefly, of course.

My friend and I wandered into a pub on a Saturday night. As we sat nursing our drinks, I spotted a man checking me out. I smiled briefly and looked away. We exchanged sly smiles and not-so-subtle glances for the rest of the evening. Me friend laughed and said he was trying really hard to get my attention. He had it.

He was adorable and probably only slightly more than half my age and so cute. The dead sexy Glaswegian accent didn't hurt either. I got the feeling he was too shy to talk to me. I initiated conversation a couple of times, but he let it drop after a few sentences.

My friend eventually got frustrated. She said this was pointless, as he was never going to make any kind of move. I didn't care. I was enjoying it for what it was.

Would it be nice if someday, somewhere, with somebody, something actually happened? Sure. But just then what I needed was a reminder that somebody might want to look. That somebody might find me sexy...

Farewell pretty Scottish boy, whatever your name might be! And thanks.