Oh wait, you're single, remember?

You're lying down in your bed, all peaceful.. Till your friend messages you and the vibration of your phone on the desk interrupts the silence. You pick up your phone and the message reads "One week. Hope you're prepared.". Puzzled, you find your calendar. Oh wait, what would you need a calendar for? You never keep track of the days of the week, you live under a rock, remember?

You've searched everywhere for it, every corner, tile, under every chair and table. Suddenly, you realize that you didn't check your bed. You keep all your stuff on the left side of your bed! You're single, why would you need the whole queen-sized bed to sleep in? You immediately sprang off to your bed and aggressively remove the thick orange sheets. Ah, looks like you've found your calendar, along with a frying pan, socks, chips and a fake pitchfork made out of cotton. All single people have the most random things on their bed. Why would you even need more space on your bed? You'd remove the items when you find someone.. Or never.


The 14th of February, Valentines Day.


You sit on your bed with your head bowed down, wondering how you're going to get find someone for the overrated 'special' day. It's the second most disappointing day, you always try to follow your plans and make the night perfect, but you can't and it's quite stupid to do that.

Since you obviously can't meet a girl and hook up with her in a week, you desperately think of how to get back with one of your exes that you still love, you know why? You think you'll be able to get back with one of them since you feel like you're a better and nicer person, well good luck with that!

You desperately call every ex, endlessly getting rejected by all of them, even the one that became a lesbian. You ponder on why girls go for the guys with loads of swag and how you think people should pity you for not getting any girls since you're one of the 'Nice Guys'. Well, in a perfect world the girls will always go for the 'Nice Guys' and kiss them on ponies flying through rainbows and stuff like that. Reality is a bitch huh?

Maybe you shouldn't have been a pussy when you were at the bar and wanted to hit on the girl, because girls don't want pussies, if they did they'd already be a lesbian.

The End?? (Not a post about a breakup, I just wanted to write a story! Wow this story is just.. so lame.)