It appears that my addiction to men has no end (so much so that I see D*ck in addiction). Let me continue my explanation of this addiction by referencing my book. I have a little book. Is it black? No, because everyone would find my “little black book” and say “Ohh look it’s Brooke’s history of men.” No, it’s not a novel… But it could be if I decided to elaborate. So I suppose it’s story time and for you young ones who don’t want a little sexual hilarity in their lives, best to move on while you still can. Or you can curl around with a cup of cocoa and let me crack the spine of my big red book. Yep, it’s red, because… well why not. It even has gold around the side. It’s pretty fancy.
Inside is a certain number of men that I keep a list of. I know, I’m a maneater but really, isn’t it better to know who has been good and who hasn’t so you can reference it later and talk about it (something like I’m doing now!) So along with quotes, rants, and little journal writings in the book, we have the list. I won’t give you specifics as to numbers just yet because that’s a whole new discussion.
I will, however, reference the most beautiful man I have ever, EVER been with. Damn was he fine. He had some tattoos, a killer body, blonde hair, blue eyes (I know, typical) but most importantly, he was Australian. For those of you that have been to Australia, you may or may not agree with me. Although I love the country, I find some of the men to be a little dumb and surfer-y… such was the case with my beauty. I met him in line outside of a bar one drunken night in Australia. Immediately he caught my attention with his gorgeous looks. I stared at him and did the look that seems to hook ‘em in, and it worked with flying colours. His golden Australian-ness came up to me and started talking to me. In about 10 minutes we were smitten, him talking about how he would move to Canada and we would make the most beautiful babies known to man. I was impressed with his eagerness to marry me, since you know, you usually have to date a guy before that happens (and I was kidding!)
As the night went on, we shared some laughs, had some drinks, and hit it off. I met his friends and they were awesome, and we just partied until about 5am. What usually happens after confessing love and marriage, we did the nasty nasty. Not entirely proud, but he’s still too beautiful not to be, I did the walk of shame in the morning.
When I awoke, much to my surprise, he was still talking about moving to Canada! “What is this,” I said to myself. “Did I just do a crazy person,” my inside self responded. Well, yes. Yes I certainly did do a crazy person. Luckily I live in Canada and he didn’t have any money to follow me, but he certainly tried all the way back to Sydney. Calling my international phone, driving the streets of downtown Sydney when I was off with a different group of people, safe to say I was a little creeped out.
The moral of the story is no matter how beautiful a man is, it’s best not to sleep with him if he discusses marriage and babies within the first 10 minutes. Try telling that to my drunk self three years ago.
P.s. As I look at this big red book of mine, I hope you’re excited to hear more.