She admits she can lose track of time. “I never know what day it is,” she says. “Never, ever, ever.”
VOGUE: What day is today? Rihanna pauses. Her lips curl, and she begins to make an “S” sound. “Ooh, I went to say Saturday.” She laughs and corrects herself. “It’s Wednesday. Wednesday.” It is Wednesday. Spaghetti arrives. Wine is poured. On the sidewalk, photographers have already gathered, waiting for her departure. Last night one of them asked her if she was texting Robert Pattinson.
She says she is single. “I have not been on a date in forever,” she says. “Like two years. Haven’t gone to the movies, to dinner. Zero.” Come on. If someone wanted to go on a date with you — “I would love to go on a date,” she says. “You don’t think that? I’m a woman. A young woman, vibrant, and I love to have fun. And I have too many vaginas around me at this point.”
She takes a sip of wine. “Seriously, all I want is a guy to take me out and make me laugh for a good hour and take my ass back home. He doesn’t even have to come up. All I want is a conversation for an hour.”
VOGUE: So what gives? “No one asks. Trust me on that. I’m waiting for the man who’s ballsy enough to deal with me. I’m going to wait, though. You always find the wrong shit when you go looking.” - from VOGUE US.
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