Oh, chicks dig scars alright. Or at least the ones I ask about it tell me so. Even unglamorous ones like mine; a crater from an infected cyst / abscess can (with the right amount of reserved but preferfably just implied and not spoken machismo, for obvious reasons) can become a minor knife / bottle wound with the power of suggestion. It's all about how understated your masculinity is. Lay off the rucks once you've built a big enough collection.
Or just adopt an air of studied faux-menace / a rapid escape plan / carry weapons (not recommended unless you're just a poseur like me who'd likely forget he had the knife when he needed it, or brandish it needlessly in public and get arrested / hurt). Trust me, son, I may have destroyed my looks with other stuff, but my nose remains unbroken. Big, Semitic, yes. Broken, no.
The viagra
NSFW:
Which, at the risk of sounding soppy (I'm most definitely NOT), is kind of what I miss. Girls who were so nice / sober / 'classy' / even unattracted to you that there was at least one session of that, with no pressure to do anything but find out whether you hated this woman and wanted to take a taxi imnmediately, or whether you'd see each other again. Teenage nostalgia? Maybe. But people were only bothered about your future then, and not any past. And you can blag the future, but not so easily when you've accumulated a past. Unless it's a stable one. So I get the worst people, more or less.
Which is of course a sure sign that somebody's an emotional adolescent. Which I'd much rather be in many ways. Adolescents haven't yet hardened their hearts. Yet.
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Pontifex ok?
Yeah Ikea's always been like that for me too, couldn't imagine going on a bank holiday haha, I do love the idea of going though, might just see if I can do it all online and make me own hotdogs.