As far as I am concerned, I am the only one having a crush on Linda Ikeji. I have eternally maintained this crush, and will not let popular opinion douse the ferbile worshipful fervour I have for Linda. The divine blogger, ex-model, and hearthrob of mine, has been the object of my sincere affection for as long as I don’t want to tell at the moment.
I am not ashamed that a old man like me is still single, but not seriously searching. Yes, I am not searching for a mate, for I won’t have another Queen supplant Linda as the sole object of affection in my heart. There is only just enough space for one, and Linda Ikeji has it. You must be an ignoramus if you don’t know who Linda Ikeji is. Even folks from outer space know who My Sweet Linda is: that is how famous she is. Oprah and the Queen know her, and soon, they will be standing next to her on the cover of Forbes magazine: that is how rich My Sweet Linda is.
Men of little faith feel intimidated by the wealth and fame of such women as Oprah Winfrey and Linda Ikeji, but not me. I respect women, I adore Oprah, and I love, love, love Linda. Last Valentine season, and the previous one, and the one before that, I wrote Linda a traditional Love Letter, signed it off lovingly, stamped my kiss on it, addressed it to Linda Ikeji with affections, and mailed it to the Castle were she is locked away from the world of lust men. I am sure Everybody Who Hates Chris have conspired to confiscate that Love Letter, because I never got her feedback on it.
This Valentine, I am sending her a bouquet of Dozen Red Roses. (I will get them Garden Fresh Red Roses, even if I go broke for it) with a note that will read:
Sweetheart, some men may be intimidated by your success, or sceptical about your singlehood, but I am attracted to you. Be My Val!
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