Crikey and my dad

I’ve got a date Wednesday with the gentleman on the JV squad that I call Crikey. He’s the one who’s from South Africa and has the cute, British-esque sounding accent. (and yes, only AFTER naming him did I realize Crikey is Australian, not British or anything remotely close to South African) Last night,After 3 or 4 rounds of phone tag we finally chatted without the aid of a backspace button.

He’s already been categorized into the “hot” category because of that charming accent. Seriously guys. If you can fake a British/Australian/South African accent: DO IT. I think god gave the British that accent to make up for their horrendous teeth so if it can get those guys laid, think of what it will do for you.

Anyway. Crikey’s adorable. He’s funny, interesting, and appropriately curious about me. We were talking about our jobs and when I asked him what he does it made me swoon even more. He’s the head of security for a well known celebrity couple that will remain nameless. The celebrity didn’t impress me as much as his being head of security did. I may act tough and all Miss Independent, but secretly, I like a macho caveman type who can drag me by my hair back to his cave. And with Crikey’s 6’2 stature, big muscles, and security heading skills? He may be just the guy to do that. YUM.

Oh, and lest you be wary that he’s just some over testosterone driven meathead, he further charmed me when talking about his employers and how genuinely in love they are. He said their relationship sets a very high bar for his own love life because he thinks the two of them prove that true love really exists, even after all the years they’ve been together. Curses. The guy knows what kind of sweet talk will work on this girl!

I was in a great mood after our phone call. Such a great mood that when I checked my email and saw an email from my parents, I mentioned him in my message back to them. Nothing serious, just that I had this date on Wednesday with this adorable South African guy. I also told my mom what he did because she loves that Hollywood gossip stuff.

I awoke this morning to an email from my father saying this:

I hope your Wednesday night is a nice guy.
I have heard mixed reviews as some of these guys come here as refuges and want to be sweet but are psychologically damaged and dangerous from all the violence they experienced in childhood.

It’s official. My dad has finally lost his mind.

Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt and then he wears it everyday,
LL