I had forgotten how cute he was… I mean, if I showed you his photo you would probably not understand. But… “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” It truely is.
How would I describe him? Well, he has got this kind of allure (Thanks to Stevie from “Miranda” for introducing me to this word!). His allure has lured into my heart.
Actually, just yesterday I read about thinking with the heart. It is in fact supposed to be the right organ to be used for thinking. And I’m not only talking about love here.
OK, his allure…. I think Diana Vreeland has said that a man has to be beautiful. And if you know Diana Vreeland you’ll probably understand what she meant by this.
What I like most about him is that he is not vain. He seems not to be aware of his allure at all. I adore this fact. He seems so casual about himself. Like he doesn’t know that he is sooo handsome. He could pass for being French. Such is his allure.
I once dated a French guy. So this is not my first long-distance relationship and not my first allure… I could write a book about that romance (I would but I’m just too busy with my new love story right now….)
Now, did I describe my man well enough? Maybe one day I’ll show you his photo. I don’t even have one myself! You don’t believe it? It’s true.
“So, how’s London treating you?” I ask him. “How’s work?”
“Work is great, actually,” he replies.
Great? What kind of answer is that? I want more details!
“So they are not all city sharks there?”
Oh…, trying to get a man to talk. How do you do that? Estonians actually have an old tradition of going into the woods and talking to the trees. Maybe that’s the only place where my man talks, too?
And they also say that men only tell each other stuff (I don’t know what stuff, exactly. About women maybe?) in the sauna.
It’s an Estonian thing, again. And Finnish, of course. The sauna is THE place for socializing and pouring your heart out.
I once read in a magazine how a man said that it was in the sauna where his best friend told him that he was, mhm… doing his wife. He said that it felt like someone punched him hard in his stomach. Somehow I always remember this in connection with men and sauna…
Well, me and my man are not in the sauna and even there he’d most likely not tell me anything juicy about his job. Maybe there really isn’t so much to say?
“How’s your boss?” I ask.
A she? Hmm.
“How old is she?” I try to sound as casual as possible. What else would you ask about a person than her age, right?
“Oh, I don’t know… 28 maybe?”
“What does she look like?” (Translation: “Is she pretty?”)
“Um, ….. She’s alright.”
So hard to get any information out of this man. I should improve my interrogation techniques.
But you know what? I don’t even care about that boss woman. I’ve got my man right here, in my bed. His allure around us. And the sheets are covered with rose petals (No, that was in my imagination only. By the way, I’d use white petals, not red. Maybe yellow even? That would be more original. If a man is ever reading this, please take note!)
“The head office is having a big anniversary party. The invitation is for two – I thought that maybe you’d like to come?”
I almost choke on my breakfast. Would I like to go? Are diamonds the girl’s best friends? Does James Bond drink martinis? Yes, yes and yes!
“When is it?” I ask. The back of my head is already calculating – how many days (weeks, months?) would I need to be in killer shape to fit in a gorgeous dress and look like Kate Middleton... (Sienna Miller? Alexa Chung?) Women are very practical, you know.
“I’m not so sure about the date. I think it was in May,” he replies.
I lose my appetite then and there. No more muffins for breakfast. No muffins at all. No food at all. Could one really survive on love and air? Time to try out…
And when I go to the party I can also check out that woman boss of his. Just in case, you know. Trust but verify.
Can life get any better than this?
To be continued next Monday.