Kilts, Flies, and Flirting with a Viking

By MissT

I wasn’t planning on flirting with a man in a kilt this week.
I wasn’t planning on talking about pubic sheep hair either, but… well, life’s unpredictable when you’re me.

One minute I’m minding my business, the next I’m gently roasting a slow-texter who turns out to be a part-time metalhead with eczema, a love for golf, and apparently a very committed fly infestation.

Yes, he wears a kilt.
Yes, he once went full Highland cosplay in public.
No, I haven’t run for the hills—yet.

Because somehow, beneath the tartan and the vague replies, there’s a man who listens. Who thanks me when I see him clearly. Who tries—even if it’s with one thumb and a 5-second delay.

Tomorrow we’re meeting. For coffee. For banter. For the chance to see if this gentle, slightly creaky Viking might still have some fire in him. And if he does? I’ll see it. I always do.

So here’s to the chaos, the flirtation, the unpredictable spark of connection.
He’s bringing the kilt.
I’m bringing the sass.
Let’s see who survives.

—
MissT
Queen of Comebacks. Whisperer of Vikings. Slayer of flies.