Men. They have a habit of leaving their things behind. It’s a good indication that this is going to be a long term relationship, that he’ll be back again, and soon I may find my room crowded with his things. The Bad: More laundry to do and less space for me. I really should house-train him before this gets out of hand. Men… they can be such uncultured beasts.

He had purposely left Mr Dockers behind. I knew it was some sort of conspiracy to throw me off my feet and I was dumb enough to fall for it. All it took was one sniff, one smell of that cursed shirt to mess up my mojo. It had my Bubba’s scent, a mixture of his sweat and the body spray that he uses. The scent also contained all our weekend memories together. I couldn’t help but bury my face into Mr Dockers, hooked to it like a junkie in dire need of a quick fix. For a week I was sleeping with Mr Dockers, sometimes sleeping in it, caressing it, hugging it like I would with my Bubba (Oh lord, I've been reduced to a t-shirt sniffing junkie!).

And like all drugs, the high soon wore off. I had sniffed all the scent off that shirt that I could no longer find any traces of my man. It lacked the warmth of my Bubba. It didn’t have the beating heart of my man or the rhythm of him breathing in and out as I lay my head on his chest. Slowly emptiness found its way into my heart. I began to miss the real thing. I didn’t want to settle for Mr Dockers anymore.

So I booked a flight home (a huge, huge step considering that I am fucking terrified of flying. Read post here). Bubba’s expecting me home on Saturday. However, it’s still a Friday and I’m about to leave for the airport. I wonder how he’ll react when he sees me tonight. Well I guess he ain’t the only one who’s capable of surprises afterall. All this because of a shirt he had left behind. And he wants to leave his entire wardrobe here?!? It IS a conspiracy, I tell you!

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