Singled Out: The Lesbian Who Almost Died for a Brunette

If you ask me - and I know you are (asking me) - I think that gorgeous, jaw-dropping brunettes who are proud owners of these monster looking automobiles called SUVs, should absolutely be banned from driving in broad day light. These sexy things (the brunettes of course) pose a serious threat to my own safety. And I’m not saying that lightly! Recently, one of them nearly killed me.

Don’t get me wrong! I’m not at all insinuating that they collectively fall in the stereotypical category of those people known to have severe driving disabilities. I’m just saying that they seriously impair my own driving abilities. The sight of one immediately blurs my peripheral vision, sends me jolting into palpitation mode and dangerously makes me lose control of my vehicle.

Anyway, a few days ago, as I was indulging in a little Christmas shopping for none other than me, I barely survived a near-fatal car accident. While reaching the intersection at La Brea and Santa Monica, a drop-dead-gorgeous brunette behind the wheels of a massive SUV (which make, evidently, I was not knowledgably equipped to identify) cut me off by making an impromptu turn right in front of me. I was so polarized by her beauty that I shamelessly twisted my neck to keep her within sight for as long as humanly possible.

Suffice to say, for a few seconds too long, I totally neglected to focus on the situation unfolding in front of me. As a result, I failed to notice the switch of the traffic light from green to red, and at the VERY last minute miraculously saved my bootie by brutally managing to bring my car to a screeching halt. That was terminally uncool of her to threaten my life like that, not to mention that she certifiably made me look like a maniacal driving moron!

But truth be told! The near crash experience was absolutely worth it. Let’s just say she was deadly stunning (no pun intended). Well, alright, I’ll cop to it: I have a HUGE penchant for brunette and to say the least, can’t seem to control the attraction – or myself.

And if you think I am exaggerating, well as fate would have it, on the very same day I cheated my own behind the wheel demise, hours later, I yet again faced the Grim Reaper, albeit this time on foot. Clearly it was a day of severe mobility deficiencies.  

So I went for a stroll down Hollywood Blvd. Actually, I was escorting my super sexy therapist to the mall to help her pick a sexy top for some fancy soiree she was attending that evening. That’s right! On top of being her chronic patient; I am her fashion consultant too!

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Anyway, to make a long story short, as we were engaged in a deep philosophical conversation about my ever-challenging psychological woes, I totally lost my train of thoughts when this brunette bombshell walked in front of us. Somehow the mere fact of my eyes zooming in on her immediately put me out of order – physically and mentally. For the life of me, in what seemed to be an eternity of a minute, I strangely couldn’t remember what the hell I was saying, or even my name for that matter.

I was numbingly debilitated like Superman on Kryptonite. To make matters worse this momentary lapse of locomotion occurred right as I was crossing the busiest intersection in Tinsel Town – Hollywood Boulevard and Highland.

What literally exempted me from being run over by the usual high volume of psycho freaks on wheels – besides the fact that the customary slow-moving heavy foot traffic on the crosswalk fleetingly created a convenient human shield – was the fact that my super sexy therapist instinctively had the meteoric reflex to brutishly thrust me on the sidewalk.

I will spare you the details of what, minutes later, subsequently happened at Sephora, when that very same brunette startled me as she unexpectedly walked into the store.

Let’s just say that my impressive innate clumsiness nearly made me wreck an entire shelf of upscale haute couture designers’ perfumes and run up an exorbitant credit card tab.

In my defense though, these “driven to distraction” episodes that almost expedited me from the road to the grave, would not have happened if I was not maintaining such an impeccable track record cruising in the single lane.

What I mean by that is that because I have been a consummate bachelorette for a long while (don’t ask me how long), I easily find myself, for reasons you can surely relate to, sidetracked when spotting my ideal subject of affection – also known as the object of my “coming soon to a theater near you” rejection.

Nevertheless, notwithstanding the dramatic afflictions of this tragic day, I learned an invaluable life lesson: Brunettes are troublemakers! They’re a danger to myself and to others like myself.

And until I become eligible to join a witness protection program and safely relocate to Blondie-land in the Nordic regions of Scandinavia, I better get good medical and life insurance plans.

Find more 'Singled Out' from Mona here!

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