So I’m being quiet because I am on hols with madre in Madrid. I fear writing a blog post of any of my usual lesbian widow substance will either make me really horny or make me cry. It’s great to have such bipolarity (bipohilarity?) of emotions. Ha.
Yesterday, I found myself feeling bizarrely turned on whilst walking around the Prado museum, looking at Goya’s works. Lots of naked ladies. I was texting TG#4 (coming up on Thursday!) and grooming her… She’s a hottie.
Today, I got emotional in the cathedral – I am angry that woman is in heaven and not with me, yet relieved too that she’s not damned to hell. Cue being close to tears and wearing Bulgari sunglasses like a pretentious twat whilst inside.
Solution? Retail therapy. Dropped €140 in Zara. If I can’t feel good, I can look good, especially whilst on the prowl for wife number two.
Now, we are in a bar and on beer five of the day. Since we are a bit lost, I asked Siri where I’m at right now.
Here we are:
Turns out I am half way between “fuck” and Madrid’s lesbian bar, “LL”. I’m like a homing pigeon. Which way should I go?
Now I just need to ditch my mother.