Tuesday, 25 March 2014

Mister Blonde, my favourite hockey player

This is a story about me and Mister Blonde.

Mister Blonde is a hockey player with a terrific ass. He's hot in every other way as well, but I just can't get over his glutes in tight jeans. Serious eye candy.
By the way, that's just what I told my girlfriends. "He's the guy with the terrific ass" - haha.

He has a great sense of humour and his beard tickles my face when he kisses me. He's smart and not afraid to show it. We even love the same books, we have the same favourite authors. Before our first kiss he asked me if I consider myself smart. I answered yes, of course, and he kissed me. I wonder what he would have done if I said no, haha.

Mister Blonde was a sort of challenge. He told me that he wasn't able to fall for anyone. Mister Blonde hadn't developed a crush in anyone in several years. No girlfriend in three years.
Challenge accepted. 
Four days later, we're lounging in his bed, he tells me that he wants to be with me. We planned a trip abroad together.

He was sort of a sweetheart. We dated for three or four weeks. I didn't exactly take notes. ;)
Somewhere along the road his roommate told me that he'd just "broken up" with someone... I wasn't quite sure how that was possible, since my Mister Blonde told me on several different occasions that he had no girlfriend, not for three or so years. Turns out he had a somewhat of an on-off-relationship with a friend, who suddenly found a boyfriend and dumped my sweetie Mister Blonde. That's when he joined Tinder and we met. He said that he wasn't ready for anything serious, which was more than OK, and he convinced me that he wanted to keep seeing me.

I took several steps back: I wouldn't send him texts; it took me a few days to add him as a friend on Facebook (he kept reminding me, whoopsie); I never began any conversations with him. I let him do all the work. A sunny Tuesday in March, he told me that we should definitely meet on Thursday. I never really understood all his girlfriend and break-up talk, until I suddenly realized that I was breaking up with him. It was apparent that he wasn't over that weird thing he refused to call a relationship.

I left him there, looking hot while lounging on his bed, put on my headphones and walked to my car. I texted Mister Yellow, told him that I had a really bad day because I just broke up with Mister Blonde, and was in dire need of a hug. He told me to come over. Fifteen minutes later he answered the door wearing nothing but boxer shorts and Ray-Bans. I couldn't stop laughing.

Sometimes things turn out OK in the end, just like that Thursday. I got my hug and Mister Yellow looked happy. Sometimes I feel like that's all I need. People looking happy.

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