bitful

I mean, up until yesterday I had never even remotely considered anyone under thirty-five as a recipient of lust.

Yesterday though, as I was settling into my seat on the plane (last row, so that I could beat all the other passengers and be the first one out as I had no luggage to collect), this vision in combats and black t-shirt walked in. Looked at the two empty seats right next to me that were screaming 'Me - pick meee…' – and walked past.

Ooh he was gorgeous. And not a day over twenty-five. The confidence he oozed single-handedly reminded the whole world why Italians are renowned for being striking.

He went past me again on the way to the toilets. Alas, he did not leave the door slightly open for me to sneak in past Natividad and Katri (too busy anyway flogging the airline's scratch cards – WTF?).

A closer look at his clothes showed he must have ramsacked the queeniest end of the latest H&M's collection – just as well, as I told myself that he probably sounded as camp as a row of tents. Or had a lisp. Or that he was one of these annoying Italian straight men who send out gay vibes and jam my radar.

And as I turned back to my fiendishly difficult Su Doku I realised I had turned into an old fox who could not get to the grapes. Or something.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 8th, 2005 at 7:42 am and is filed under uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.