The Man Toddler

He is significantly younger than you. And you think this is great. With his tiny-baby enthusiasm, and his tiny-baby good looks. Ergh, he is so cute, you want to violently shove him into a meat grinder. But you can't. Because that is illegal. So you will continue to pick him up from school, or his mum's house, or the Teletubbie Convention, and gently wipe the gunk out of the corner of his eye. Because that is what you signed up for, Older Craddle Snatchy Woman. 

Identifying a Sensitive New Age Troll

Some are self-explanatory.

Please braid my hair 

Some will wipe their sludge all over you, dare you try and escape.

Ragh?

Others will trap you in their labyrinth of fragility. Frequently throwing razor-blade parties and drafting suicide notes amidst a sea of bleeding, like-minded Sensitive New Age Troll pity-pals.

I want to violently weep on your chest when we make love, Lauren. 

Census Report Nation's Singles All Middle-Aged Souls

THIS CRUEL WORLD-- The 2011 Census, conducted nationwide a month ago, revealed that whilst both Australia's "old" and "young souls" were married, or in a serious relationship, middle-aged souls were all still single, boring, and basking in their despair.


Reincarnation Therapist, Dr. Caesar Pythagoras Morpheus said, "People naturally gravitate towards older souls. Their silent complexity is terribly hypnotic...like a fine wine you'd drink and pretend to understand. Young souls, on the other hand, attract mates with their radiating positivity. They're just like a walking anti-depressant...constantly smiling about retarded things like oozing jam and steaming compost heaps. Then we're left with the middle-aged souls who float somewhere in-between. Neither fun or wise. They basically possess all the personality of a badminton shuttlecock. Yeah, they don't even want to date each other. It's really quite sad".


Middle-aged soul, Simon, said something entirely too mediocre to take note of.


The Australian Government suggested middle-aged souls engage in risky behaviour, like running with scissors, to speed up the process.

That Dude

I used to date this dude named Frank. He was nice. Nice and weird. I knew this once he'd entered me and muttered "You've got no idea how long I've waited for this day". I was impaled VIA the groin by my very own stalker. Looking back, I don't know why we dated. Perhaps it was his soft hazel eyes that danced melodically over my skin. Perhaps it was his stature; tall and claiming. Or perhaps it was the premature balding patch that reflected moon beams directly into my retina... causing a temporary stimuli overload, episodic epilepsy, followed by a subsequent gap in time. 


Here's hoping.