I had a really bad date night.
This guy that I have been dating is so attached with his car, in fact, he recently purchased hid kits for the tail lights--as if I care too much about it that he let me know. Anyway, he asked me for a dinner date at 7PM and I said yes because I don't have any other things to do after work. I went home, rested for a while and then fix myself so that he'll ask (beg) me again for a date. I wore the cutest LBD in my closet and my killer heels, a YSL 'Tribtoo' leopard print pump. I rarely wear my YSL so you can assume that this date is really something special. At 6:30 I was ready but it was still too early for me to be upset and he hasn't phoned me yet. Thirty minutes has passed and still no message from the guy. By this time, he is starting to burst my bubbles. I hate being late and I hate even more waiting for a guy to pick me up on a date. After an hour, there he was, honking outside our house. Honking to let me know he has arrived was too rude. I went out and asked him why he was late. Of all the excuses that he will give me, he said he had to fix the head lights first because he wanted to show it off. OK! In an instant, I took off my YSL and smashed his precious car's tail lights right in front of him. I could see his heart break. I love the scene! I walked like a vixen inside the house without looking back. I bet he's picking up the pieces of his smashed tail lights.
I love my YSL--the confidence it gives me whenever I wear it is more than my height plus a three inch heel. I felt so triumphant for proving that even though diamonds are a girl's best friend, her killer heels are her savior and protector.
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