Noun: A place, person, or thing from which something comes or can be obtained.

I thought my mother was genuinely interesting in speaking with me this morning when she asked me about last night’s events. My original Friday plans for 5 à 7 resulted in my return home at two AM, so she assumed something exciting unfolded. In other words, she questioned: had I met any prospective suitors? I swear you would think she was trying to marry me off or something. I regrettably had to inform her that no, I had not met anyone.
As I drank my morning coffee trying to gain a level head, I realized that in the seven hours I was out yesterday evening into the night, not one guy approached us. Okay, so there was the creepy loner guy who sat near us by the water while we brown paper bagged it and drank a bottle of wine; I’m sure he would have come closer had we seemed more inviting. Don't get the wrong idea, I do not go out with the intentions to meet someone, but it just got me thinking (again). Where is a single girl to meet a man in this city?
The rooftop 5 à 7 was surprisingly full of couples, groups of (gay) men and their (girl) friends, or clusters of younger women (competition).  As we later walked through the old port I become conscious of the fact that this area was not meant for single inhabitants; we were surrounded by couples holding hands or worse, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. (Side note: do you not feel the extreme heat and humidity when you’re in love? Because I would not want anyone draped over my body in this weather.) I can’t really object, the old port is so romantic; we were obviously the 'one of these things is just not like the other'.
We noticed that the restaurant terrace we later ended up at was not over populated with male/female pairs, but mostly tables of women. Perhaps the ratio of men to woman in this city is not equivalent? This could explain why I’ve been single for so long; it’s not my fault there is a lack of men. Though, I must admit our final destination for a glass of champagne had quite the handful of men around the bar...

Sadly by this time my hair was having a wild untameable (frizzy) party of its own, I couldn’t stop myself from yawning every other minute and all I wanted was my bed;  and so the quest continues. 


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