THE VOLUME-LESS MOUSTACHE: of marriages and other accidents

“Well, you girls can always marry someone rich”, he said, twirling his greasy , volume-less moustache.

Yeah. Sure. Why didn’t I think of that all by myself? I must applaud your idea, volume-less moustached stranger.

Difficult?

Let me put it this way. I am a girl. Listening to stereotypes such as that comes along with the gender.

Here I was, discussing my utter and much justified confusion about not being able to choose clearly a line of work when BAM! – came the comment, springing out of a cocoon much like an ill-formed butterfly.

Marry a rich guy. Life = perfect

And besides what do you have ambition for? You are a girl, dammit! Duh! A teeny tawny brat studying to loop rich husband(s).

I don’t blame the guy entirely. He was merely stereotyping my gender.

But then again, I DO BLAME HIM

Oh you spiteful son of a bitch.

So what if I am a late bloomer? I want to do everything in the world. For all that I am aware of, my mother has endured me growing up ( and quite painfully so, if I may add), with my desires of becoming a pilot to those of becoming a postman.

Yes, I want the world. And hence I am confused.

But then so be it.

I am not dwindled in my brains to want to marry someone because I want to be rich and shit!

I mean I have nothing against marriage.

Actually who am I kidding, Fuck marriage. It’s a wretched thing. And all of you happy couples going blaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh, please don’t kill my Facebook wall. But more on that later.

As for you, Mr. Volume- less moustache, don’t be so judgemental. My bloody name means desire( see, gotcha!) and yeah I am a little off right now but I will get there.

Right on time I am sure.

And about that moustache – just shave the bloody thing off; its making no mark with the ladies.

Just saying.