i do have a hangover, albeit a fake hangover

my benefactor whispered, just be you for a day. i smiled all my 32 whites and nodded my red bullhead. so excited was i with this fantastic opportunity on my designer doorstep that i had to grab it with both my hands and hug it in my huge protein pumped up macho arms. oh it felt so good to hug something that was not designer for a change. 

and there i was wanting to scream out of happiness,  so i expanded my eyes in all four directions better than a kathakali dancer and opened my mouth big enough for three golf balls, gasped for air more dramatically than a gold fish, clutched my waxed chest and faked it. what? a scream! but of course i could not hear it, and it dawned on me that I no longer scream. it is so gaunti* right. metro-sexual men did not scream. gaunti men did.

and there i was back at table no 4 waiting for the love of my life to share... well, a coffee with me. i browsed on my pad for any updates on the highly secretive, bubbles themed bath bash overnight, and it was still a secret, albeit officially - and bravo behold the love of my life was on the runway sashaying towards me.

and out popped a message from my benefactor, 'just be yourself'. so parking my designer shades on the table i rushed to meet my babe and grabbed her and kissed her face, and for a moment i felt so good. but just for a moment and than a vibrating slap of her palm on my well groomed face resounded in my virgin brain.. and the words were thundering 'we don't kiss anymore we only air kiss lover boy!’

*gaunti-country bumpkin