Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee Fiction
I do not own Glee. To my reviewers, keep it coming. To the others, start!
Dear Blaine,
I am well aware that it has been a full four minutes and seventeen seconds since I got home. I was trying very hard not to think about you, having just spent the past 8 hours with you. So I Google searched the first thing that came to mind. Which is why I present you with top 5 facts about the number four hundred seventeen.
1. Honorius married Constantius on January I, 417. The year was thus known as the Year of the Consulship of Honorius and Constantius. At the word counsel, I thought of the Warblers and moved on.
2. Episode 417 of the Simpsons was entitled "Last Exit to Springfield" in which the chalkboard gag was "Mud is not one of the 4 food groups." Well, that's obvious. We should take a mud bath. It'll leave your skin nice and supple.
3. The Http error 417 is when an expectation fails. Oh I could on for days about this one.
4. It is a magazine that has a section called Fashination coming out in March. It'll preview the hottest spring fashions. It'll be too late for our not-date to the Ringling Brothers (I still can't believe you have tickets) but there are plenty other weekends to look amazing.
5. April 17th is Blah Blah Blah day. It's the day that you do what people have been nagging you to do. So which one of us will finally listen to Wes and David, and get a room?
Okay, so obviously random googling is not helping me forget about those hazel eyes of yours. I promise, I'm not going Kelly Clarkson on you.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Blaine,
That song is stuck in my head. Yes, you know fully well which song I'm referring too, Mr. I-made-a-mixtape. Oh wait, excuse me. I meant to say Mr. I-made-a-freakishly-awesome-mixtape-of-people-Kurt-has-never-heard-before-despite-his-extensive-knowledge-of-all-things-music. I think I'll stick to calling you Blaine. It's a lot easier, and much more attractive sounding. That may be a biased opinion. There may be some Blaine out there that wears socks with sandals. I bet he has a nasty overbite unlike your oh so dazzling smile. I'm going to stop before your ego bursts.
Marie Digby is a beautiful artist. I mean, what other singer compares kissing to breathing underwater? Is that what it's really like? I've nonchalantly kissed a friend or two on the cheek and I'm not shy when it comes to my affection towards my father. I try to keep it at a dull roar for his sake. My dad may love and accept me, but he'd rather be watching football and fixing cars than attending tea parties. It's okay, I love him anyway.
In fact, my first kiss, or uh kisses, were with a girl to make him happy. I made out with a cheerleader and tasted her lipgloss. I asked her what it was like a kiss a guy. But a teenage gay can only watch so many kisses and hear about so many kisses. Even still, he will still not know. It's like Pavarotti. We've all been trapped or contained in some way or form. When I was younger, I considered my car seat a trap. They strap you in and expect you not to fight it. But eventually my dad came around to unbuckle me and I was free. Pavarotti doesn't get to have the cage opened and fly free. While I can sympathize for the unfortunate bird, I won't know what it's like to be permanently trapped.
When Karofsky and I kissed, it was so wrong, that they need to invent a new word for it. Because my vocabulary has been downgraded to that of a three year old, and all I can think of is icky and yucky. Even if he was somebody I liked, his technique was atrocious. It was sloppy and aggressive. If you love somebody, you can do that. On a bed, or against a wall, where you can't flail backwards at the force. I'm glad he didn't attempt to do anything with his tongue. But when he tried to dive back in, I was more ready to wet my pants than kiss him. Heck, I was more ready to battle a dozen ninjas that reek of blue cheese and chicken wings than kiss him.
I'm still waiting to experience that special kiss. The one that makes me feel like I'm breathing underwater. What would it be like if we kissed? Would it be like swimming in the rain?
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Blaine,
Let me start off by saying your nana is a fabulous cook. I'm pretty sure you understood that from my inhalation of our lunch. In my defense, I only had coffee for breakfast, and that was a good 7 hours earlier. It was so chilly outside, and her sopa de maiz (if I remember correctly) was phenomenal. I never thought to put corn and shrimp together, but the onions and spinach really brought it together. My breath didn't stink afterward, right? I swear I poured at least half a box of tic tacs in my mouth to hide the smell.
When your nana brought out the snickerdoodles after taking away our empty bowls, I was full. Still, to be a polite guest, I took one. I may have just died and gone to heaven in your kitchen. If I got blood on your floor, I apologize. I promise I'll get your container back to you as soon as we get back. Once Finn finds out that I have cookies, I don't expect them to be around much longer. It's been twenty minutes and he still hasn't noticed them. They're hiding in my room right now.
I'll give them up eventually. If not, I'll grow fat and outgrow everything I bought today. That's it, where'd Finn go?
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Blaine,
Now that I have successfully hidden the snickerdoodles of doom from my sight, I no longer have to worry about ruining my figure. Could you believe, all of that quality time together, gone to waste because of a few cookies? That'd be horrendous.
So let's talk about what you bought. Well, I'll talk, you listen. Or write and read. That delicious shirt you found on the rack at Macys was a real steal. When you rolled up the sleeves, and showed off those handsome, albeit goose bumped, arms of yours, you looked so rugged. But in one of those hot farmer boy kind of ways. Not one of those "this has a million wrinkles but it smells clean so I'll wear it." Cough, Finn, cough cough.
Oh, and that fedora you tried on in GAP? It was fedorable. That was my lame attempt of making one word out of two. Oh well, I'm not backspacing. Perhaps you'll find my corniness cute? I know you found my v-neck Express sweater cute. The way your eyes trailed down the slanted neckline. Oops, I guess I forgot to wear an undershirt today. My bad.
I hadn't planned on going into Pac Sun. Somehow you had managed to convince me (trust me, it didn't take much) to go in despite my urge to go to Aveda. But dear Eros, when you pointed to those slim fit Bullhead jeans, I was sold. Man, you've talked about those skin tight jeans before, but my imagination clearly was not as good as the real thing. You better wear those things next time we go out. That is, if you don't mind me staring at your butt.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Blaine,
What are you doing Wednesday? Finn challenged Sam to a Call of Duty battle, and I really don't want to be home for that.
Yours 'til the coco puffs,
Backspace
Out like a fat kid in dodgeball,
Backspace
Yours 'til turtle necks,
Kurt
(P.S. Finn says to tell your nana that she makes good cookies. At least that's what I got out of his mouth full of crumbs.)