Tip Our Hats: Guys Who Stake Their Claim On Me

I love, love, love when he does little gestures to let everyone around us know that we're together. Like when we're ending the night at his corner dive taking down beers the way Ryan Howard would take down pitchers. I catch him looking at me a little too long, and then he leans in for a quick kiss. I'm in Blush City, population: me.

Or when we're splashing around at the beach with all my friends and he swims out to where I'm dog-paddling (at 5'1'', it's not that far from shore), wraps my arms around his shoulders and lets the water lap around us as we sway with the waves.  

Or that time we were in the middle of helping a mutual friend move out of her apartment to escape the wrath of her Suddenly Psycho roommate when he pushes me up against the wall in the hallway and doesn't stop kissing me until Suddenly Psycho has walked awkwardly past us into the next room, glaring and muttering all the way.

I'm as rosy-cheeked as a birthday clown just thinking about it. Strange sounds that resemble Beyonce's liquid giggle in "Drunk in Love" squeak out of my throat. He just twisted the cap off the shaken-up soda bottle in my chest and I feel fizzy and frothy and faint with desire. That's right, kids. That man is here with me and those stolen kisses and squeezes are the freakin' best.

And if you think this is over the top, just wait until you see what I'm going to do with him once we get some privacy at home. *makes "rawr" noise*