yesterday my older sister dragged me to a tanning salon. i’m not a firm advocate of the bake-and-fake crowd, but i gave in and experimented. i spent ten minutes shifting uncomfortably in a plastic bed with lights on top of and beneath me. it felt strange to be topless in such a noisy establishment (you are actually supposed to be completely nude to avoid tan-lines). i was in a private booth, but i could still hear people moving around outside of it and it made me feel as though someone was about to come in and just lift the cover, thinking no one was using it and exposing my half-naked self. now i’m reminded why i hate any activity which requires a scanty amount of clothing.

anyway, that’s not really what i wanted to talk about.

while i was waiting for a room with my sister, i happened upon a cosmopolitan magazine. i don’t usually take heed of any of the asinine articles. however, there was this one about a friends complex that i found rather interesting. it more or less explained that people who restrict themselves to a tight-knit group of friends are bound to never find stable, intimate relationships. their friends will always be a factor in whom they choose, what they do, and how they do it. under such binding circumstances, the chances of getting out there and finding a suitable partner are lessened. your perfect mate slips away under the harsh criticism and scrutiny of your close peers.

that seems to be where i’m at right now, confined within a particular group of friends — not that there’s anything wrong with it. i have a blast with them; i laugh; i partake in fun, non-alcoholic activities. but for over a year now i haven’t established a new relationship with anyone, platonic or romantic. i’ve decided that dating any of my friends would be out of the question, simply because we work so nicely as, well, just friends.

but what if i’m going about this all wrong? what if it is necessary to start off as good friends and then work your way up from there?

i can’t even imagine picking from my group of friends like a dietary love-smorgasbord. the notion seems unnatural and wrong. but, on the other hand, choosing from the array of faceless, nameless people i come across day to day doesn’t seem too enticing, either.

i think that i am doomed to live a trite, lonely, meaningless existence. i discovered this little fact when my friend gave me a palm reading. it seems as though my life-line is very short and hardly even noticeable to the naked eye. apparently, palm reading is very accurate when it comes to defining the length of a person’s life. i am now scared and paranoid.

stupid cosmo magazine.