I was reading SFgate this morning, of course, and there was an article about Steve Young, former object of my affections and 49ers Quarterback. During a low point in my life, before I received the prophecy that I’m meant to be with Gavin Newsom, I was rather enamored with this strange Mormon.
At my previous place of employment, I would often get to meet celebrities of varying levels of fame and once met Steve.
Let me just say, sparks flew.
He arrived backstage with his “wife” to meet the cast, and as 3D was in charge that day, Steve was also introduced to the crew.
3D: This is Beth, she’s in charge of all the costumes.
Beth: Hi, it’s fabulous to meet you.
Steve: (very intense eye contact) Beth! What’s up! Great job. Those were some fast costume changes. (still holding onto my hand.)
Beth: Yeah, we hustle pretty hard. You’d know all about that.
Steve: (immense and uncontrollable laughter.) Yeah!
Oh my god. Hello? We were practically having sex in front of everyone, the tension was so marvelous. After being introduced to the staff, and having very boring conversations with everyone but me, Steve asked some questions, managing to work in my name TWICE. I immediately sensed that his wife wanted to kill me, and rightly so. I mean, her husband had clearly fallen in love with me in a matter of minutes.
When it was time for Steve to depart, he went around again and said goodbye to everyone, grabbing my hand one last time, piercing my soul with his striking blue eyes, and saying my name for a fourth and final time. My knees buckled as I looked up at him, his massive and highly insured muscles gripping my fingers with an unspoken passion I’d never experienced.
As he left, I waited for a huge reaction from my coworkers, dishing and dissecting the amazing and blatant attraction between us. But they pretended not to notice, and dispersed immediately. Jealous bitches…