Hello, my name is Doris and I'd like to make a complaint.

Aren't pregnant women into themselves? Completely besotted. Nearly every interaction with a pregnant woman involves the obligation to ask how they're feeling and they always ALWAYS continue the conversation with some extra information. One of the most sickening sights for me is watching a woman slowly rubbing her own pregnant abdomen in public. I'm not really sure why it bothers me so much but I always think she might as well be massaging her own breasts. There's always a very satisfied look on her face as she massages her bump. Look how fertile and content I am people. And I'm definitely going to be a great mum, look how caring I am towards fetus even before it comes out. Wait till it starts screaming I always think to myself. That'll wipe the smirk off your face. Now can I just clarify that a woman is within her rights to be into her own pregnancy. It's a fucking horrible experience. We deserve the right to complain about what happens to our bodies duri

Finished off 2017 with a date with...another David. Shout out to the bores who became parents of boys in the 60's. David was a single man on a married website. I suspected he wasn't really single when he told me that he was semi-retired but unable to meet until after 8pm any night of the week. First warning sign. Didn't ignore it. Acknowledged it and changed the first date to a night that suited me. Not mid-week. These days I refuse to fit into anyone's schedule other than my own. Limits the men available but generally sifts out the dickheads...like David. Met David. Instead of waiting on the steps of the library, he was waiting on the footpath in front of the steps. He was hunched over scanning the crowd, obviously nervous, umbrella in his hand. Very sensible. Groaned. Introduced myself. He explained his status a few minutes after we met. "My wife had a stroke 3 years ago and she is in a nursing home. I've just come from there actually. I go and see her