Yup. I am the only ghettobitch left standing. Therefore I am the winner. And I must confess: I WANT TO GIVE MY CROWN BACK.
Please!?! Can I give it back. Let the runner up don the tiara of single-tude. It sucks being single in fall and winter. Summer is ghetto bitch time, and I've had fun watching all my challengers head toward the love lights like bunnies on the road home from Burning Man.
Ah summer: girl bitch, boy bitch, it didn't matter, they all fell, and I cackled with schmee glee. Two of my main competitors actually started dating each other. I'd like to think that I manipulated them for competitive edge, but the femme bitch actually manipulated me (willingly) in order to date the boy bitch. Talk about a mental game.
But now? It's gloomy, moist and melodic. I desire a boy with whom to wear matching sweaters, and sip mugs of hot cocoa laced with Baileys, while snuggling up all cosy-like next to the fire — Falcon Crest lovin'.
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