HEROIC, our Red Devils have been heroic all along the WorldCup 2014 but yesterday… they stopped winning. They were brave, they were determined, they were great but just not enough ) – : Their story is over, discover if Eva and Mr Hermit’s story will end too! (You can read all the previous episodes here).
The week between the first and the second date goes by frenetically. I have to contact all my friends to help me deciding what to wear and what to cook for my Saturday with Mr Hermit-BelgianBraveGuyWithAGrayAudi.
I know that we are supposed to spend only the afternoon together, but you never know that we get hungry… Better if I have something edible in my fridge, something that confirms his idea that I am a super cook, but that can look a last minute choice. Mmmmh let me think…
And for the mise… shall I go with the brown top which is my good luck charm? Jeans or smart pants? Jeans, it’s Saturday afternoon after all.
And the D-day comes. I hid veal meat rolls, tortellini, and a sweeet tiramisu in the fridge. I eat a spoon of tiramisu, just to give the impression I didn’t make it on purpose ( – : I look in the mirror, yesssss I look gorgeous!
At 6 pm he is at my place, we sit on the couch with some good Belgian beers, we start a sassy conversation on the WorldCup and the “pleasure” of running and, after two hours, I distractedly ask if he wants to eat a little something something: “Shall I put the water to boil? Tortellini cook in 5 minutes only and I should have some tiramisu left, what do you think?”
Before he can even answer I am already in the kitchen, I am the perfect sexy housewife ( – : Then I hear “No, thanks. I stopped by my mom’s before joining you and I had some boterham there. In addition, I always wonder how you Italians can eat pasta for dinner. So heavy!” Then I hear that he switches on the TV and he says “Can you now just shut up for a second, I would like to understand how the Ronde van Vlaanderen is going”.
No pasta? You ate at your mom’s?? You tell me to shut up?
The only other sound I can hear now is the sound of my heart breaking in 10,000 pieces.
Love is sometimes compared to gambling, to hurdling, even to football but maybe it is more like skeet shooting: You go up, you fly high, you believe, you know he cannot disappoint you, then PUM
PUM PUM he shoots at your clay heart from the ground and it is…
BITTERNESS PLEASE GO AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY