Law of Attraction

I have created a law of attraction, and I'm calling it Zoë’s Law.

Zoë’s Law states that hot guys appear when you’re looking worse than a rabid raccoon that has been dragged through mud and pine needles, and anti-hot guys appear when you look the closest you’ll ever get to looking hot.

For example…personal example, that is:

Break a foot when you’re looking all swish and stuff and the doctor that comes to provide care and comfort will be a cranky grey-haired jerk with all the sympathy of a blob of spit. Go to the clinic when you’re in sweats, hair unwashed and bedraggled, Petechiae around the eyes from puking and migraine coloured skin (a delightful mix of pea green, waxy yellow and dead-for-a-week white) and the doctor will be a smokin’hot Mediterranean guy.

Have to get a child to school in four minutes or less (starting from a sound sleep) or they miss a field trip? Go swathed in a pink and gold cloud of nightwear – I had four minutes, no time to dress, ok? – and instead of dropping off said child and zooming home the trip leader will HAVE to come to the car and speak to you. And that leader will be a mustached, six foot tall woman with the shoulders of an ox. Guaranteed. On the other hand, take a kid to school when you’ve had the flu and you figure you can get them there and yourself home in time for the next round of puking and I can promise that the cop that finds you parked on the side of the road, out of your car, wearing flannels and puking on someone’s grass will be the only cute cop that exists in the entire city.