Ugh, speed dating, that was horrible. No one else seemed to mind, maybe this is the future, three minute date, three minute fuck, three minute marriage.
It's not all a conspiracy to keep you in little boxes, all right? It's only the miracle of consumer capitalism that means you're not lying in your own shit, dying at 43 with rotten teeth.
(Life's all pain. Pain, rejection, and gloom. Why do we even pretend there's anything but a yawning blankness at the heart of...Hey, 33% extra free. I am doing excellent shopping. My depressed state of mind means being even more frugal than normal.)
#peepshow
(I could say he's got a... fat head. Call him a jizz-cock? Not actually an insult, all cocks are jizz-cocks really. Bit like calling him a piss-kidney.)
Everyone at this party isn't as young, fit and single as they're making out. Yep, let's face it, we're all falling apart piece by piece. Doesn't matter if you're single or in a couple - you, are, going, to, die.