The worst part is that you have hope this time.
I like hope. I like hope in the way that Red, from The Shawshank Redemption, doesn’t. I think that if you aren’t willing to try for nothin’, nothin’ ain’t ever goin’ happen.
But, take this from a man who always has a well-stocked refrigerator before he makes plans for an evening out with a woman.
The rest of what I’m about to write, I envision as being read in a deep highland Scottish accent. I’d make a recording of me reading it, but I might be too mooch under the ways of alcohol.
There ain’t never gonna be a wooman that’s is right for yoo. Of’en all there is in dis life is the approximation of wha’ ya want tid.
Yoo may feel dejected naw, but it’s temporary. There aar, a woman who will be right fer yoo. Jus’ wai’.
Sure, she were pretty, but surely weren’t pretty enough fer yoo. Sometime’, this is how life’ it go. Sometime’, it jus’ ain’t gonna happen.