Lament

I just asked my favourite date to join me in Amsterdam for André Rieu and his Strauß Orchestra. And the reply? It's not really my thing. Sigh.

Story of my life. The things I enjoy most others don't. What others enjoy I don't. I despise rock concerts and comedy clubs bore me to death. I prefer the opera and I love the ballet, which bores everyone else to death. I'd rather climb Machu Pichu in spiked heels than go shopping with the girls, but once in a while I must. After all, isn't that bonding time? I prefer furniture shopping or decorating my home. People love going out to eat while I like to stay in and cook [usually in spiked heels and lingerie]. I could be a world reknowned chef - I'm that good. But I just like to share my creations to a blessed few. I adore waltzes and tangos. I read Dumas and Voltaire, in French. While my friends are out clubbing I'm at home playing my piano or violin [sometimes nude]. And when I do go out I stay away from blasting music, overly crowded venues with bad food. And to make matters even worse, I have a vocabulary.

And I haven't reached my late twenties yet! Help! I don't have any drama and the only baggage I have is Louis Vuitton and carries my lip gloss and tango shoes. I have enough pulchritude to get a date any time I want to, just not anywhere I really wish to go. After my third orgasm I get foolish and forget that my lovers wouldn't be caught dead at anything classical. The replies lean towards, "How bout a Weezer concert?" And those who enjoy what I enjoy tend to be old enough to be my grandparents. Arrrrgh!

So... what the hell is a girl to do?!