bmwiid:

We all know Alicia was a very famous model and it kinda made me think… if you hang out with someone who knows about make-up, you end up knowing about make-up. You talk to your friends about work, so they know what happened at the office. 

Enter Bob. Hockey-mad Bob who meets Alicia at a party where he’s being introduced to one of her friends and who is just… floored… by this woman. It’s obvious. He’s head over heels before he even knows it – Alicia? Not so much. 

I mean, sure, he’s cute and he’s got a butt that just will not quit, but he’s also clueless about the things she’s interested in. He knows nothing about clothes, designers, photographers – nothing. He wears what he’s told. Jesus – he’s got a mullet. She’s not interested. 

I want Bob being very aware that Alicia is out of his league. He makes an effort. He gets his hair cut into something more fashionable – he thinks he looks a little like Tom Selleck, and suddenly he’s ‘the good looking one’ on the team. He starts to look at what famous pop stars and actors wear. 

Bad Bob is learning that he’s not going to be David Bowie but maybe he can get a suit that’s a little different, right? 

He learns about what’s ‘hot’ and not from his sister, his friends girlfriends and wives – he has a few well meaning 80′s disaster fashion moments, but he gets through it. He reads fashion magazines and rolls his eyes at the chirps. He tries to remember who took the photograph. He may have a notebook. Jack gets his dorky nature from somewhere. 

The next time he meets Alicia he’s able to hold a decent conversation about her time in Milan. He knows who she worked with, he’s able to ask about things SHE LIKES.

She’s impressed. And after they’ve been dating a few months, she stays the night. 

Only to find that Bob has converted the bedroom next to his into a walk in closet fit for a queen.

“Well, I just thought… you know…” He shrugs. “You might want to hang some of your things up if you come over.”

So when she’s standing in Jack’s new apartment and sees the state of the art kitchen, the brand new appliances… 

“Who cooks, Bob?”

“Hm?”

“Who does Jack know that cooks?”

“No one.” He says, stretching out on the couch so that his arm falls over her shoulders. “I think that the Bittle kid bakes – remember the cookies?” He kisses her on the cheek because he can. God, she does love this man. “Why?”

“No reason.”