Hipster Harry

Hipster Harry’s reaction when he was unanimously voted, “Housemate I’d Most Like To Go Friends-With-Benefits With.” He managed to hold in his laughter until Housemate Liam’s indignant, “What about ME?” Harry consoled him with blanket fort cuddles as the night wound down, artlessly reminding Liam in the process why even he had voted for Harry.

BB Hipster Harry was a precocious young lover. He wooed you with a love note he made out of found objects, whereon he inscribed, “My love for you serves many ends, each learned with the soft push and nudge of your affection, to bring your smile, your sighs, your eyes to sights pleasing, to leave you (better than I found you) a better man.”

Hipster Harry is a firm believer that when you emerge the next day in the clothes you wore out last night, it shouldn’t be called the walk of shame but the walk of gratitude. To live deep and suck out all the marrow of life - Thoreau had it right.

The Chronicles of Hipster Harry would like to wish you all a heartfelt Happy Day and invite those of you who are of the age of majority in your particular jurisdiction (i.e., 18+) to peruse the Hipster Harry, Blue Chronicles tumblr bluechroniclesofhipsterharry.tumblr.com, which details the rather more salacious, NSFW exploits of our fictional hipster. Mwah!

The Chronicles of Hipster Harry would like to wish heartfelt love, peace and comfort to the people of and in Boston. *hugs & kisses*

Hipster Harry out at a party with some of his housemates. They take turns eyeballing the massive love bite on his neck, but he just grins and shakes his head. Hipster Harry doesn’t snog and tell, either.

Hipster Harry found that business was almost too good when he worked as a masseuse for a time. His hands were, understandably, in high demand - and his clientele got a bit cheeky on occasion.

Hipster Harry when you called with the bad news. He was at your side before you knew it and held you through all the tears and the grieving. You never loved him more.

Hipster Harry in his favorite coat. He inherited it from his Granddad, who played the fiddle and gifted him with his love of storytelling. It smells of cherry pipe tobacco and firewood and Harry never fails to tear up a bit when he first puts it on.

Hipster Harry well stuck into a discussion of early American music. His housemates are similarly enthused, but find themselves occasionally distracted by his massive hands.

for @mycrookedsmile