21st century husband.

So, what if you just swiped left on the potential future love of your life?

Shit.

Can’t go back, unless I pay £3.39 a month.  Paying to meet my future husband feels so cheap but surely it’s worth it?

What do I tell the kids?…

‘I swiped left on your father at first, because photographic evidence of his face didn’t initially captivate my attention in the two seconds that I had to subconsciously decide whether or not to swipe left or right and spend the rest of my life with him.’

Ah these life situations really do test your reflex skills and determine whether or not you’re more of a fight or flighter- I wonder if Darwin would have ever used Tinder? I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where he got his theory of evolution from. I mean, the men, just grunting for sex, like apes, barely capable of starting conversations unless aided with a mediocre meme or just a simple four lettered ‘Hey’

‘‘H.E.Y.Y’’…

to seem cool and not too invested but not too dis-attached; not too far a fetch from a bunch of cheeky baboons after all.

Swiping left or right, supposedly, subconsciously, determines whether or not to fall madly in love or to not, but to pass safely on the danger of being

Just another hook up.

Or kidnapped.

 

Either way, I either dodged a bullet or dodged the love of my life.

But aren’t’ they the same thing really?

And so, I didn’t pay my £ 3.39 a month out of the hopes of meeting my future husband.

I’d rather spend that on a box of ‘Wasabi’ sushi instead, because it will never fail to make my heart skip a beat as I devour its deliciously, delicately wrapped salty and savoury contents, which with a zing of green wasabi sauce sprinkled on the side, sends a wringing sensation of fire through my burning

mouth.

And, if that wasn’t enough, I know it’ll never be just a

One-night stand.

For there are many ‘Wasabi’s’ open which I can return to at any given time, between 8 am and 9 pm in London: Hammersmith, Chelsea, Oxford circus…

50 shades of seaweed any day over a potentially grey

 future husband who will only end up

cheating on me or, being a

massive, boring cunt.

So sushi for one it is again tonight.

£3.39 wisely spent.

 

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Moonlit reawakening at Midnight

  Midnight stars shone as her body fell backwards into the moonlit waters of her mother’s womb. Floating weightlessly into the vast sea, as waves carry limbs in and out; currents dictating in which direction the milk skinned body travels, a peaceful coffin ready to be sucked in. Dark pools of reflected stars, drown in their own milky way of her pale skin, nakedly free from the ‘civilised’ oppression that is disguised in the name of ‘fabric’. A body re-born, baptised amongst the assembly of fish and lemon grass seaweed, dancing in a waltz beneath her feet to the sound of classical guitar played two feet down the beach, yet refusing to become tangled amongst her flesh. As hazel eyes hover to meditate on the sky, stars naturally become the ceilings décor, natures painting lit amongst God’s smile.

   Meanwhile, an atheist sways back into believing in something simply more. However why should this magnificence of science not be enough?

  All sound deadens, as water crowds into ear drums and droplets of sand particles accompany the melody of her thoughts; a discordant minor, majored by the dribbling bubbles of nemo fish and the distant strums of an Italian 80’s ballad. As little suns flicker in the black vortex above, one becomes magnificently insignificant. But that is all there is, and somehow it is enough.