Friends and Valentine aficionados, if Mrs. Blue were a superhero, her name would be The Navigator. (Eat your heart out, Batfleck! Har!) In fact, that is her nickname, I kid you not. Not Sweet Poopy Doopy or My Little Lovey-Dovey. Not Tender Lambkin or Hot Mistress Dear. I don't call her Batfleck. I call her my Navigator. Of course, she's my mistress come Wednesday night (woof woof) unless I'm faking a headache (ouch), but for ten years my Navigator she has been. And why am I talking like Master Yodel: The Reboot?
|Master Yodel is Strangely Naked. Didn't you know?|
Well, I'm trying. I know, maybe I should try a bit harder, but it's hard to change when you're stubborn and blue. It's hard to tolerate individuals who relish the thought of stabbing you in the back like it's an achievement. It's like looking in the mirror and saying, 'You moron. Why didn't you throw them off a roof?' But when you're lucky like me, even if your batmobile keeps breaking down on you when your imaginary money tree is dead and gone, you know what is important and what is not. You know who matter and who really don't. You just need someone to remind you every once in a while — or, in my case, on an embarrassingly regular basis.
So, thank you, Navigator, for saving my blue butt for over a decade now. Thank you for keeping me on the right track to the best of my abilities. While I may be a bit slow in the let's-shed-some-light-on-your-own-life-for-a-change department, I've been secretly aware of this unrewarding full-time job of yours. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a grown man with Peter Pan issues who needs a smart and beautiful woman a decade his junior (Way the go, Blue! Yes, I know, fellas...) to keep himself out of trouble. That, my friends and Valentine fetishists alike, is no easy feat.
Who is your Navigator?
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|Always listen to your navigator|