This is going to be part one of a saga. Here is what I have so far:
1. Be a model.
Aug
20
2012
How to land a musician boyfriend.
Previous post: The wedding trap.
Next post: Swept.
By Almie Rose
By Almie Rose
Aug
20
2012
This is going to be part one of a saga. Here is what I have so far:
1. Be a model.
Previous post: The wedding trap.
Next post: Swept.
apocalypstick
apocalypstick
apocalypstick
apocalypstick
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
I knew it. Shit.
LOLLLLLLLLL
Looks like I have a lot of work to do
Every journey begins with a single step.
That’s all? There are plenty of “models” all over the internet, but then again there are also a lot of “musicians” and “DJs”… So yeah, this logic is sound. High five!
Here is what happened. I thought I hit “save” on this post, so I could work on it later. Instead I hit “publish.” There is def more. I made an oopsie. But I don’t delete anything I write on here, so here it is. OH THE HUGH GRANITY.
Not according to Prince.
Whaaa? Which Prince girlfriend are you referring to? They were all models.
“You don’t have to be beautiful to turn me on.”
Yeah but that doesn’t mean they’re beautiful.
Shit I’m out of the game already? I was hoping “own more than one cat” was number 1. Maybe somewhere else down the list?
haha! i love that you accidentally hit publish. seems legit. i have to say though…
one could just move to Olympia, WA. this place is crawling with “musicians” and it is almost impossible to date someone who is not. you’re bound to find one you like.
It’s a lot easier nowadays… times have changed.
Also, important note: It depends on the level/caliber of musician you want.
It seems showing vague interest in their ‘ability’ wins them over pretty quickly.
Lol! Yes, I suppose this would be sound logic for getting a famous rockstar boyfriend.
There are all types of musicians. My boyfriend happens to be a classical flautist. All I had to do was attend an art school and be my own strange self. Which means my own strange EGL, visual artsy, forensic illustrate-y, morbid, dead pan, bad-punny self. He digs it. I don’t know why, but hey. I don’t question these things.