So a couple hours ago after I left the gym, I came home to shower and had my tropical body wash going with Rihanna’s “What’s My Name” blaring. I guess the scent and the steel drums put me in quite the Caribbean zone for a second, and I got excited when I remembered that I’ll be in the Bahamas on Saturday. And for some reason, I pictured some greased up muscular man walking in slow motion towards me down the beach. Kinda like this:
(I google-imaged “Bahama man,” fyi.)
And then I envisioned us in the club later that night. And I quickly had an ‘aha’ moment: maybe that’s just what I need right now. I’m 26, single, feeling good from my workouts, and just had my heart broken – I clearly need to take advantage and do something about this. I need to seize the opportunity and just let loose, have some fun, and forget about what’s his name (well, all of them). Then I quickly realized that I’m so incredibly repulsed by the male race right now, that I’m not capable of “just having fun,” which is kinda sad. More than likely, I’ll inhale 5 fruity umbrella drinks and end up crying in the sand somewhere over my heartache. OR, it could become liquid courage and I’ll give some hottie the time of day on the dance floor, wow him with my charm, reel him in, and then shut him DOWN. Not like I’ll ever have to see him again. Guys do it all the time, no big deal. The way I feel, the “maneater” is close to coming out for sure. So maybe this will be the perfect setting to do it in…(don’t judge me)
which is a big deal because 1) I actually told someone today that I recently had a “Waiting to Exhale” moment and referenced this very scene; 2) I actually referenced Angela Bassett today because she is known for her killer arms, and I said that lately people have been acting like I have her arms. So yeah, it’s hilarious to me that Angela is basically my spirit animal right now, and every aspect of my life seems to be coming back to her today. Ha.