The art of blowing kisses

Sometimes, when I least expect it, I hear from my guy. As always, it makes me happy.

He woke up just past 06:30 his time, logged on to Skype, and immediately started to chat with me. I had roughly half an hour to chat with him before I had to fetch some lunch and then head over to the office for a meeting.

It was great to hear about the shopping purchases that he made in San Francisco before boarding his flight over to Auckland. I was genuinely interested in what he had to buy and vice-versa. He loves Costco. He had a barbeque pork sandwich with coleslaw there, which you cannot get here. He also got some super-soft t-shirts and underwear.

I asked him whether he got underwear that had some sort of hand that would automatically wrap around his penis. He had suggested this fine idea last week. He told me that he couldn't find any underwear that did self-masturbation. We do talk about the weirdest things.

My guy loves to iron. He was raving about how great the iron was in his hotel room. It made me smile. We are quirky that way. In my case, he asked me why I don't blow him kisses. Frankly, I have never done that before.

He raised the subject again before we ended our conversation:

"You will be practising blowing kisses today, right?" he asked me.
"Maybe. I'll be making fishy faces in front of the mirror," I replied.
"You won't look like a fish. You'll look cute with those lips of yours," he stated without hesitation.
"I can't do it in front of a mirror," I told him.
"You can try it out with me once I'm back."
"So, I should go on the street and blow kisses at anyone?" I asked him.
"No, not anyone. Perhaps a cute guy," he suggested.
"I can't. You're halfway around the world."

He liked that. We'll be having morning chats with each other this week. He told me that he likes starting off his day on the right foot. I couldn't agree with him more. Talking to him always makes my day.