"It only seems to happen
"It only seems to happen when I'm not expecting it," she was saying. "When I've got on sloppy clothes, haven't shaved, hair's a mess... that's when I'll wind up going home with someone."
It's been a while since I've gotten laid when I'm not expecting it.
Before I leave the house for the night, I usually have a pretty good idea what's going to happen to me, sexually speaking. It's just experience. Experience permits extensive analysis, which takes into account the style of music at the club, the weather on that particular day, the time of year, day of the week, phase of the moon, and whether or not I got laid the night before (action breeds action).
It also depends on me. Occasionally I just like to come home by myself and get some sleep. But if, as usual, I'm the mood for trouble, there are a few things I can do in preparation that seem to make me more "layable" (not telling what).
Today was an unusually warm spring day in Halifax. Tonight at the Marquee, a big DJ competition is taking place. The club will be quite busy. I'd say I would have between an 85 and 95% chance of getting laid tonight (95 because nothing is certain in this world--nothing).
On the other hand, I'm slightly grumpy. I already worked a long stressful day in the studio. It's 10:30PM, and I'm typing this instead of getting ready to head out the door to work.
People sometimes ask me if I expect to still be living the same way ten years from now, or if I think I'll settle down, get married or something.
I reply that, ten years ago, I wouldn't have been able to predict how I'm living now; so how can I anticipate what life will be like when I'm in my forties?
I've got to go; got to get ready for work. I think I'm just going to put on some sloppy clothes tonight.
I wonder what the future holds.