Chicken soup might be what you reach for if you have the sniffles or are feeling generally under-the-weather, but there are few remedies for melancholy as effective as a day spent flirting with a handsome stranger.
February always gets a bad rap for being one of the worst months of the year, but I tend to find that March sucks a lot of light and energy out of me. I can't pinpoint an exact reason, I think it's just my own lunar/mayan/mythical calendar (I have no idea where mythical fits in, the word just came to me so I'm going with it).
With that being said, on Saturday, what was supposed to be a "quick drink" with a friend at the bar at the end of my street turned into several hours spent flirting and laughing with a guy who was showing some interest. The whole thing felt more than a little foreign, as it's been a super-duper long time since someone's hit on me (that expression is so odd, no?), but wow, did it feel good.
Yes, numbers were exchanged and they may be used, however if the seven to eight hours of giggling, witty retorts, and strategic non-verbals are all that comes of it, at least it was something.