Steele Yourself

Had it with Hoobjoobery?  Ready for the perfect specimen of masculinity?  Then let me remind you of the fine qualities of my erstwhile beloved, Steele.  He has everything- the golden calves of a man who is unafraid to lounge naked beneath the Italian sun because his body is more taut than Beelzebub’s bedspread.  He has a great personal fortune, about which he cares nothing apart than it is needed to keep his stylist on 24 hour alert to tend to his unstudied appearance.  He loves to travel and weep at romcoms.  He loves cheese and wolf puppies.

Oh, Steele and I have had some times.  We rode elephants in Thrissur, we sunned in Ibiza.  Why he even took me to visit the Holy Father.  (By the by, if that crumply gentleman had held his cup any lower, I would have thrown a quarter into it!)

He is an adventurer with teeth of lunar brilliance and excellently cut jackets.  There is no downside, this man has no flaw. In addition to be handsome, courteous, and able to balance a ball on the end of his nose, he has the good manners to not be overly reflective. When his pretty eyes close dreamily on my pillow, thinking of nothing more than the wax on his ivory Rolls, I do not wish I had some anxious poindexter in his place, more capable at pointing out the ills in society than giving me the what-for.

 

I am sure you are all wondering what life must be like in this gilded lane. While Steele will always remain my model of the ideal boyfriend and sailing companion, Lambchop is not one to be tied down to any man, and so I let him loose on the world of woman to add even more to his perfections.

2 responses to “Steele Yourself”

  1. Gah. STEELE.

    His chiseled midsection and playfully tousled coif have plagued me for long enough!

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