in love with kaka

30andhappy has written a fascinating blog, or shall I say a ‘thesis on faeces’. After which my blog seems rather gross.

I really am in love with Kaka, but not the kind she speaks of, this kind is the tall, dark and yummy kind. Ok that doesn’t sound too appetising, does it? This is not going well.

Let me just show you who I’m talking about.



Lets meet Kaka, a 24-year-old mid fielder for his country Brazil and his club, AC Milan. His real name is Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite, which is a nice name, but for some reason, his little brother, Rodrigo couldn’t, or wouldn’t pronounce it properly. So he called him Kaka, which, in native Portuguese is a shortened form of Ricardo. Little did either of them know that in some parts of the world ‘kaka’ means defecation. Ugh.

This beautiful piece of human flesh once suffered a serious accident when he jumped of a diving board and had a fractured vertebra. This could have meant him never playing football again. But Ricardo, as I fondly call him, believes that Jesus got him through it.

Yes, Jesus. He is a devout Catholic. Every time he scores a goal he points his fingers to the sky as a sign of thanks (It’s better than Crouch’s robot dance by miles) In 2004, when AC Milan won the Serie A title, Kaka sported a t-shirt saying, ‘I belong to Jesus’. Unfortunately for me, in 2005, he sported a wedding ring that probably said ‘ I belong to Caroline’

Yes, Kaka is married. Which is the reason for this post and my acute depression. I found out too late. The love of my life and the fire in my loins is gone. He is the one that got away.
Sure, I like Freddy Ljungberg. Sure he is hot as hell. But did I want to know him, talk to him and have coffee and cake with him? Not really.

There was a cosmic connection with Ricardo. I got a number 8 jersey thinking I was going to support Freddy. Freddy turned out to wear 9 for international games. Who do you think came running onto the field, making the sign of the cross and wearing 8?

Kaka.

When I did find out about his marriage I almost cried. No wait. I think I did a little. There were tears. Then I saw a picture of him kissing his wife and there was a giant barbed wire that tightened around my heart. The pictures I had of him and me walking on the beaches of Rio, hand in hand, vanished.

I had had an imaginary relationship in my head. And seeing that picture on the net was like finding out he was cheating on me. For about a year now. It was like I had to stop answering his calls, miss his matches, and give him dirty looks through the television. Just out of spite.

I think I was certifiable for a while there.

I’m still a little depressed. And I still don’t like Caroline.

I still love Kaka.

He is the one that got away.

Sniff