No longer longing for love, I find these days, I would rather be seducing silk scarfs and delighting in D&G, than cooing sweet nothings and trying to make dinner reservations. There is no such thing as a never lasting romance when concerning one's attire. Where as you may find that you wake up one morning and the person lying next to you has decided that, in all truth, despite their empty promises, they don't actually fancy you.
Your wardrobe is rarely unavailable. They don't have crazy exes. Most importantly they come with the best kind of baggage: the non emotional sorts. And what with vibrating panties, and other heavy machinery, the man is basically rendered obsolete.
Other than the splendid trinkets and treats, they may or may not spoil us with on occasion, I find that there really is no other reason to be fussed about them. That being said it sets a precedent that we should all whore our selves out to "the man" and I do mean that in the most metaphoric and general of ways, making everyone in some way or another just as common as any call girl may be.
If added up, the countless amount of coin one may loose to a lover could very well be the equivalent to a second closet of clothing. A couples massage at the spa could very well be a pair of Christian Louboutin, Peep Toes and a Pedicure. Its a shame how much of our financial efforts go to waste on unappreciative men. Then again, this comes from someone who has been scorned into selfishness.
This all having been said: I do not hate men. In fact, I absolutely adore them. To be honest I find that as long as there is no romantic involvement, I get on quite well with men. Women can be brutal to say the least. With men, I find there is less bullshit.
Lets be honest now, shall we? It really is about making the relationships work for you. Love and Fashion, the twain repeatedly meet and mingle. Unless you obtain the same abilities as the femme fatale, the only real perk of being in a relationship is being able to "borrow" clothes. Don't give me any of this nancy crap about soul mates or happily ever after. My one true soul mate happens to be a blue cashmere sweater that makes my eyes pop, and my happily ever after is to be buried in Oscar de la Renta when I die.
There is much more to say for Fashion, Love, Art, Music, Literature and Life in general, but as I sit here at my desk with an empty cup of tea, I find that I may have to put this chapter to rest, until the next time. Let there be no misconception of why I feel the way I do about men. I promise I am no slighted and bitter old maid. I merely believe that the only living men to fall at the feet of, also coincidentally happen to have their own fashion lines.
That being said I am sure your significant other is fabulous, but I myself can not be fussed to find "the one" only to eventually grow apart, I would much rather have a never failing little black cocktail dress I can depend on.
One can only prattle on for so long before they need to recharge their batteries. I am now officially declaring defeat until next time.
Notoriously Yours, In Love and Fashion,
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