Bad Boys don't celebrate Valentine's Day!

Nondedju dear readers and readers! Sometimes it's not so easy to deviate from the straight path, not even if you're a spicy little powerpood like me. I had solemnly promised you to report on my new life as a vile four-legged and naughty blog king: well, I have to blow off some steam anyway, so that's all right.

Sweetness

It's hard for me, being a bad boy. Today was a new low in my attempt to put goodness behind me for good. Why's that? Well, Valentine's Day, of course. Blègh! That silly sweet-sweet commercial stuff. It made me sick three weeks ago. The Christmas commercials haven't gone off the rails yet or you're going crazy with commercials trying to tell you you'll fail if you don't have a sizzling love affair to post soggy on your socials. Well, to me hairy dog hula with it! For this Sir no Madame this year - I'll pass. Or so I thought. Exactly until the moment I walked slightly groggy to the mailbox this morning...

Two Things

I was just getting ready, you know. Tax reminders? Come on! Commercials for cheap dog food? I don't care. Of those shiny gold envelopes that say "open quickly, because this Nigerian prince has a fortune for your card - just text me your account number!" I don't care. I mean, fuck off. How stupid do you think I am? In the morning, I only need two things: a strong cup of black coffee and a nice solid turd next to the billboard around the corner. Fuck off with your mail. Except for that one tiny pink envelope that was waiting on the mat this morning; this poodle hadn't counted on that for a while...

Off the map

At first I thought, "I'll just walk by. Screw it. Maybe it'll be gone when I get back from my round." So I walked out the door. Down the path, on a trot. Round the corner. Slow down. And then turned around again. I don't know, either. Something told me I'd better go and see what it was. If only I hadn't, dear! If only I'd bravely chosen a nice pot of shit in the chilly morning air! So now I would have been in my right mind and I could have written a decent blog full of sensible lingerie tips for you. Now that doesn't work anymore. Because now I'm in the most literal and the most embarrassing sense of the word completely off the map...

Browse

So I go back to the doormat. He was still there, of course, in all his irritating soft pink innocence. The envelope even smelled a little... Sweet. Like a hint of perfume or something? Okay, okay, okay. There was nothing to do but open it. I even forgot to make coffee in my confusion. I hurried into my basket and tore off the front with nervous gestures. Two things struck me immediately.

Tears in the eyes

The first thing that came to me was an intoxicating walm. Cheap perfume. Ant-sweet. The tears jumped into my delicate eyes. Clearly from a sender with no taste. That thought got stuck somewhere halfway between my brain stem when the second discovery fell out of the broken envelope.

Hard pink

With an almost inaudible thud, a wad of bright pink fabric landed on the carpet of my comfortable dog basket. Lace. With strings. I almost choked on my tongue. A thong! A tiny little ass fat in screaming hard pink lace folded itself slowly open, just under my nose. The perfume smell was overwhelming. I can still smell it now that I think about it again. What was I supposed to think of this now? I was completely stupid. Flabbergasted even I dare say. I've never experienced this before. Exactly at that moment I noticed the handwritten note stuck behind the torn lip of the envelope.

Disgusting

A sheet of white paper, and yes: there was a kiss printed on it with pink lipstick. God damn it! So this was Cupid's work! Finally. At last Valentine had found me - and just now, while I had so resolved never to take part in it again! Just disgusting. Trembling with excitement, I read what was written in gracefully curly letters on the note...

Read back a hundred times

I've read it over a hundred times and I can charm you: it's still there. Okay, go ahead with the goat, there you go. "Dear, dear, naughty Sir Sebastian", he opened. Damn it! Straight to the bull's-eye. Valentine got me. "My little, naughty, hopelessly romantic lingerie tiger." Really... I didn't know how I was doing by the time I got to the next sentence. "I've been watching you for months now. With every word that leaves your pen, my heart skips a beat." Okay. Breathe, Sebastian, just keep breathing. The penultimate sentence. Just keep reading now. "Even a blog king like you can't put into words how I feel about you..." No kidding. You. This! Somebody send a spicy piece of lingerie to ME, with these words? Okay, okay, okay, okay. Last sentence. Focus, bad boy - FOCUS!!!

X marks the spot

The line the letter ended with was the final blow for me. I might as well admit it. I'm sold. What did it say? Okay. Watch this. "Bad Boy Bastian, I yearn for your attention - please let me be your Valentine!!! -XXX- You know who.”

Are you standing

There I was. Me, the completely independent lingerie guru who doesn't need anybody and who decides how he organises his life! With nodding knees I dropped the note. Stupid of course, because that's why my gaze slipped back to the little bow in front of me. What was this? More importantly, whose was it? An acquaintance? Was it perhaps one of the ladies from the neighbours at Dutch Designers Outlet? An obsessed fan from my ever-growing community of followers and lickers? What am I supposed to do with this? What should I do?!

Radeloos

I don't know anymore people. I'm desperate. I just got my whole romantic lifestyle thrown in the trash, I get this thrown to my head... How can I make sense of this? I'll tell you what I did. Okay, I ran out first to do my needs, but apart from that, I spent the rest of the day in front of the window, distraught. I grabbed the bottle at about two o'clock. I can't get out! I got it! I'm GEOBSED!!!!

Enough

I quit. I've written enough, and I've drunk more than enough. I'll let you know as soon as I can what I'm going to do with this. First, try to gather my thoughts. I wish you a less complex Valentine's Day than I've had, I believe. The romance thing! Ew! Ew! Ew!