At very worst...

A single statement can determine the outcome of the night. The predetermined expectation is set as you simply describe the clubs desperate circle to the new comers.
"If you don't get hit on in this club something MAY ASWELL be wrong with you"

These words should mean nothing to me, the week prior I picked up twice in this club alone. Why would it matter? I'm now seeing someone, an ex is calling at the door... Is life not complex enough?

The new man.
Standing on the brink of something we do not perceive ourselves to deserve, one may find themselves baffled and screaming for self validation. Scanning the club for glances from a lustful stranger who will remind us we are desirable, behaviour which single handedly threatens the potential desire of the partner who ,in our own words, is far to enchanting for someone of our calibre.

Too myself, dating is an equation.
Two partners are always an equal... Whether its equal in looks and intelligence, or perhaps, just equal in any commonly desired characteristics such as humour, background, stability, personality and so on and so forth.
The maths consumes my head once again as a man enters my life ticking every box.
The intelligence, looks, life style, talent, humour and age... my cabbage eating, coffee addicted life can not compare.
I'm convinced after sex he will run, so why do I sleep with him?
I mean, he appears perfect but I am to wise for that, he will not call again I tell myself.
I'm sure I am one in a hundred (or in his case two hundred) and probably even ten this very moment so I expect to hear nothing.
But he calls the next day, and the next, even the next.

What absurdity is this?
What world have I entered in which a man says he will call and calls?

I express my confusion to my house mates, I ask "why me?"
Am I thankful? Well sure I am.
But the equation doesn't add up... I don't fit the formula for him, I am not an equal and therefore I can not sit here and honestly believe I am not about to be replaced.

Secretly I hope I won't be.

Back in the club I scan the dance floor for even a set of eyes to remind me I am pretty... I am something unique, even if that something is purely defined by my physical being.
I suppose this is asking to much considering I am wearing a plain t shirt and am soaked from the rain.
Even in a club that stinks of desperation the drowned rat look will get you no takers.

Alas, There is no antidote to my anxiety tonight, only time will allow me to know if my equation adds up as I predict it does.

Being single... It's a cocktail of men, some forgettable, some regrettable and at very worst some so addictive you spend your days waiting for a night to give into that desire again and again and again.