It’s someone’s birthday this week, and that someone is secretly dreaming of an adventurous weekend in some nice East-European capital, such as:
I always used to claim myself to be a strong, independent woman who doesn’t want anyone to give her anything. Well, forget all about that, I take it all back. Every time I hear people talking about the wonderful surprise trips they have received from family/friends/boyfriends/girlfriends/husbands/wives/that random millionaire on the street, I turn green with jealousy (not mellow green even, we are talking proper bright green here). I’m not exactly proud of myself (actually, I’m quite ashamed for feeling like this: one is surely supposed to keep their mouth shut about these things, right?), but a little part of me wants to be so special for someone that they will go to the greatest lengths one can imagine to surprise me. They would know me well enough to know what it is that I’m secretly dreaming about and longing for.
And yes. I would like to be able to do the same for someone else, too. Sigh.