Yesterday, night out in Blackpool at the Funny Girls. The very famous and best cabaret in the city. A truly wonderful night that has just put me in a very good, dancing mood.
The show was amazing. All that fun, dancing, routines and tacky yet very enjoyable in one place, that was too much my usual cynical and bad mood could handle so I’ve been having a smile on my face that just can’t seem to go away.
Especially because I’ve seen THE ONE. For the truly first time in my life, I’ve seen the most adorable-looking, cutest, perfectly-build, absolutely fabulous man in the world!
He’s got everything I like.
These little boy-ish looks that don’t seem to be fading though you can see he’s in his twenties.
He’s got that light brown hair, very cute and lean features on the body of a dancer. Muscly but not too much. Just exactly what I want.
And he’s got a flaw I always need in every man to really fancy them: he’s a bit too short. I think as tall as me or maybe slightly shorter.
Patricia and I were just going bonkers. I had a plan: going backstage so if he’s straight, she’ll have him and if he’s gay, I’ll have him. But we’ve got to have him because he was just too perfect to be true.
Mostly for me he’s a dancer. I’ve been fancying tennismen, footballers for the most part, countless actors and thousands of guys I just saw on telly or on the Internet, and I have a new “future husband” every week but that one’s dancer.
That’s part of my dream: the couple of cats, the five girls or four boys, the flat in Stockholm, the huge mansion in Liverpool or East Anglia and my husband who’s a dancer, who’s sensitive to music and knows how to move on it. Nothing is sexier and more desirable than that for me in a man.
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