I am in love...

Yes, I am in love with Michael Bublé, again. Yesterday I was so taken that I made three times my normal 11 km “Tour de trois villages” on my bicycle, just to be alone with him a little bit more. He is just so seducing, I can hear “Lost” over and over again, and love him a little bit more every time.

But then…I saw once a documentary about Michael Bublé, and he turned out to be a poker playing male bimbo, he has probably never even read a book. What would I talk with a guy like this about? I know nothing about poker, the only poker I can refer to is strip poker which I played with the neighbour’s boys during my summer vacation at my grandma's.

This is a little bit of a problem when we are talking about men. No matter how cute the guy is, how long time can I listen to the stupid football talk? Not too long; as soon as we leave Casillas, I am not interested at all. But if I meet a guy like Sartre, what can I talk about with him then? Nothing, I would just look very stupid compared to him. Seduced but stupid.

Thank God I have my husband. We might have nothing to talk about either, but if I have any urge for conversation, there is a cure right at the hand. I can always yell at him why he again has put the scissors in the wrong drawer, left the wine prop on the table, put my bra on the tumble dryer, not gone out with the garbage etc. My husband ignores totally my yelling (I insist calling my monologue for conversation) but I feel a certain satisfaction giving outlet for these daily matters of life and death. I wonder if I share any of my topics with Simone; did she discuss the same matters with Jean-Paul ? No, I don't think so. Being a smart guy, I bet Jean-Paul would have never put Simone's bra in the tumble dryer.


(Are Simone and Jean-Paul discussing who should take out the garbage ? )