Why Don't You Go 'Romance' Yourself?!

Blonde Ambition #10: Learn What The Hell it Means to 'Romance Yourself'
I got told today by a well-meaning friend that I need to "romance myself". "To keep you happy," she urged, "and sane." Probably there was an emphasis on the 'sane' part. It wasn't exactly muttered beneath her breath. I've been progressing well on my path to being a true bunny-boiler lately, and am only a stone's throw away from adopting 29 stray cats and then hurling them in no particular order from my front porch at passers-by.

Just what is 'romancing one's self''? I'm a little confused. Am I supposed to take myself to the cinema and feel myself up in the back row? Or maybe get dressed up to impress myself at the opening of some tacky art gallery, where I will laugh quietly to myself and whisper to myself that flowers in paintings look like vaginas? Maybe ask myself to come check out a polo game and get jealous of myself when I catch myself perving on the better looking players?

After this initial date with myself, am I meant to go home and not call myself for three days? During those three days, am I supposed to write sappy, embarrassing journal entries about myself, and about how much fun I had with myself at the cinema/gallery/polo match? Try to get into my head, perhaps, and work out why I haven't called myself when I thought I had such a wonderful time. Dear Diary, I can't believe it's been two days and I still haven't heard from myself. Maybe I shouldn't have let myself gush? Damn it, I always gush, I bet I thought that I was so talky and full of myself!

What about after three successful dates? Am I then meant to fuck myself? Mmm. One thinks that perhaps I was insulted by my apparently well-meaning friend. At least it should be a decent event, seeing as I know how to please myself, unlike some fumbly men who put their whole weight on my hair and then can't work out that I'm crying from pain and not his sheer masculinity or technique.

What about meeting my own parents? Gee, I hope they like me... :)   Or asking myself to go away on vacation, and then getting really irritated at myself when I hog the bathroom to do my makeup and wake myself up while I'm blow drying my hair and singing, loudly, badly, unabashedly? And you just know that I can't wait to get a key to my own house. That's just going to be the turning point in my relationship with myself, I think, a time when I can really let myself be comfortable with myself.

Can someone please explain this "romancing oneself" thing to me? It seems like a whole waste of time if you ask me. Much as I like myself, it'd never work. I'd be too jealous of myself for flirting all the livelong day. Who knows what kind of nasty arguments that would cause.

Blonde Ambition #11: Tell Someone, Anyone, To Go Suck a Banana
It doesn't matter who hears this random and undeserved insult. Someone must, however. Anyone. I'm not that fussy. Maybe even you. I'd just like an easy target while I'm in a stroppy mood and too exhausted to work-out until all the stress in me vanishes like food from Jessica Simpson's plate.

Blonde Ambition #12: I Can't Wait for Polo Season 2011!!!
That's self explanatory. Plus, I want my friend to kick another friend's butt, and have already placed a large wager on this happening. I like to taunt. I call it motivating. Come on, Mr, prove me wrong ;)

Blonde Ambition #13: Lucky Thirteen. Try My Luck at the Casino
Fact: If it has numbers or moves, chances are I've bet on it before, and will again.
Another Fact: I'm good at betting on horses. I can nearly always pick the winner. Unfortunately I'm completely rubbish at almost every other form of gambling. Cockiness and bluffing are a bad combination. Being a sore loser doesn't help. Being drunk off your head and having a wad of notes in your hand really doesn't help. Here's to a good time, though. If I lose too badly, I suppose I can always drink to numb the pain, then I'll simply assume my suicide attempt was actually just one of the many dumb stunts that resulted from consuming two or more drinks.
PS: Nothing funny about suicide and I'm joking.