No, really. Don’t laugh now, guys. He is my hero. My beautiful, medal-decorated, and retiring hero.
To say that I would marry him on the spot if he proposed to me would be stating the obvious. To say that I would bear at least three of his children might be a little less obvious, and possibly untrue, but the fact of the matter is…I love this man.
The strange part being that if I met him in public, instead of following my deepest innermost fangirl instincts to scream, hug, and procreate with him, I would play it off all cool. This is a proven fact. I wouldn’t quite be the: ‘Who the hell is Michael Phelps’ girl. I would be more like the ‘Excuse me, I just want to let you know that you amaze me’ and then walk away type of girl.
I would love nothing more than to spend five minutes talking to him. I don’t know why, but he fascinates me to a point of love. True, honest love, guys. I would spend my lifetime loving him, I really would. But I won’t, because that’s weird and creepy and I pray to all unseen forces that he doesn’t read my blog.
Scratch that, I don’t give a shit how I’m embarrassing myself, I would probably pretty much die with excitement.
To stop fangasming, let’s move on to what I did today.
Today, I had a date with a cute boy named Turner. Now, I don’t think we’re going anywhere, since I’m not interested in forming attachments right now, but it was a really cute date. He drove all the way here from pretty far away, and then we watched movies, had a tickle-war, and snuggled.
God, I am a sucker for a good snuggle. He wins in the snuggler department, for sure. So, yeah, it was a guilty pleasures kind of day. I indulged in snuggles, hand-holding, and Michael Phelps fangirl sobbing. Yes, I did say sobbing.
I just love him so much.
I need to finish this blog up before my phone suffers from water damage.