My name is Chelsea Long and I'm 21 and I live in Liverpool. People always ask me if I support Chelsea FC, due to my name being Chelsea, like the club. But through and through, I'm a Liverpool gal.
Well, you might not believe it, but I'm dating Liverpool centre back Virgil Van Dijk. You might not believe it, but you should. Because it's true.
It's a funny story how we met. I was playing a casual game of footy at the park with my best mates, Jez and Caz, when I heard a voice I could recognise anywhere even with my eyes closed in the dark.
'Wow you're so beautiful and talented' said the voice, I gasped, Caz scowled because she's always been jealous of me and Jez was jealous because he has a massive crush on me.
I turned around and took in all 6 feet and 4 inches of Virgil Van Dijk. 'I'm here with my kids playing football, because they like football. Wanna join us and then maybe catch a cheeky Nando's at Liverpool ONE after this? My wife is out of town and I'm feeling lonely.'
I looked at Jez and Caz. 'I'll see you guys later', I said as I followed Virg and his kids to the green with football nets. We stood there and thought about what positions to play for a minute. His small daughter decided she wanted to be the goalkeeper. 'Thank god,' I thought to myself 'she's puny. No chance against me!'.
Virgil blew the whistle he found on the ground at the park. 'Note to self' he thought aloud 'don't forget your whistle next time'. He continued. 'In fact,' he pondered loudly, 'hey Siri, make a reminder to bring my whistle next time to the park'. 'Okay, daddy, I've set a reminder to bring your waffle next time to the park.' He sighed. That would do.
Finally Virgil finished blowing the whistle. The sight of his lips enclosing around its gentle plastic sent my heart into a frenzy and I couldn't stop thinking about what I heard Siri call him. Daddy. I felt a pang of jealousy as I longingly dreamt of how one day that could be me, not in a magic phone voice way but in a sex way.
I was snapped out of my daydream by a flurry of action as I shifted suddenly from the mode of a normal (but hot) girl to the mode of a pro footballer, this is what I was born to do, I was going to wipe the floor with these pathetic little worms (the children not my Virgey).
I immediately find my way to the ball. I swipe it right away from Virgil's other daughter, watching her fall to her arse. She begins to cry, having hit the ground hard. 'No crying in football, daughter' he said, sharply, disregarding her weakness. I send the ball crashing into his daughter, her weak little arms unable to slow its impact.
