Of love and hate.

So the nights goes and I'm still trying to find someone to go in place of Philip to my sister's wedding. I tried my luck on a friend yesterday (actually a lot of friends) but no go.

So I asked Philip out (the other Philip). I've not seen him for ages and it seemed like a good thing to do seeing how I've already run out of friends to ask.

So he said no. His boy Joseph has a choir thing that night and he needed to be there. Tough luck.

I asked him out for dinner instead. Because I owe this man more than anything in the world for straightening my life out when I needed help the most. It's this dark episode where a man goes through the lowest of his low, and nothing seems to work out. There he was, like the best friends should be, reaching out and pulling me up from the slum.

Yes, he helped me fix my Transformers.

So we went for dinner with his two boys - Joseph and John. Swenson's was the word (I ask them what they want for dinner every time we meet, and they'll say dunno. Then we walk for a little and without fail they'll utter the magic eating place word).

They had chicken, and I had fish. I wanted the chicken more so I traded my fish with their chicken cept I had no more fish and they still had chicken. Oh the sin. I'll get fat for this.

I told Philip what's been going on in my life and he wanted to kill me for it. Then I made up for it by buying dinner. The kids got $5 to go to the arcade with and that usually knocks them out for the rest of the night. Oh how I spoil them.

So Philip and I got a little alone time. He was devastated over the loss of a very good friend. He had cancer and was just 23. Also was informed that another one of my pals didn't show at the good friend's funeral just because his ex would be there. The bitch.

Oh, how much we all suffer for love. My next relationship will give me loads to smile about - otherwise there's no point getting anywhere there anyway. I've lost so much time and effort with the last one so I'm gonna be really picky this time.

Sidetracking a little, my wonderful colleagues have been real darlings (in case you didn't know I happen to share my workplace with several gorgeous ladies) and I've had a few ask if I would be interested in knowing friends of theirs.

They must not value their friendships a lot. I'm an embarrassment in dates. I have several girls you can call for outstanding testimonials.

But back to the story.

Of love, I know little of. I have to admit I'm very old school when it comes to matters of the heart. I'm more likely to rehearse a single line a thousand times in my mind and then screw up the delivery. That, plus the line's not really gonna be good anyway and would most probably be misconstrued.

Lots to learn in that department, but casanova I'm not. Someone said I was wholesome (LOVE the curls). Good husband? Maybe, but noone's gonna want me as a boyfriend.

And of hate, there is nothing more genuiely overenacted than the curtain call of self-loathe. I bought a bag today. A nice bag, but a bag nonetheless. I wanted to buy two! And how's that for the great 6-month plan? That, and I can't help but want to pamper the two children. I'm like their favorite uncle - every trip out with me means a nice dinner and fun afterwards.

If I ever manage to get children (poor suffering girl who's going to be my wife be warned) they will be fat. Fat and pampered. Fat and pampered and very well loved. Especially if she's a girl.

There is this age-old story that starts like this - if your wife and your child were both drowning, who'd you save?

I'd save the wife. Nuff said.