Isn't Easy to Ignore Something That's Pink
Sunday, August 31st, 2003
Isn't Easy to Ignore Something That's Pink
A Dom Entry
Today's my day off. I should be relaxing and having fun, going out to the pub, (recently re-opened, I might add. Brilliant!), and generally having a blissfully ignorant time with myself. But I'm not. There's something on my mind. Sod-all. It shouldn't even bother me so much.
Yesterday I found an interesting envelope in the mailbin. It wasn't the bog standard white, rectangular, professional return addy stickered business mail that I'm used to seeing. It was square-ish. And pink. And hand-written. (For the record, it wasn't scented. I did try it out). The return addy read: Boyd. Nothing else. Just Boyd.
Instinctually, I presumed it was from a female. It was addressed to Billy. Just Billy. A bit familiar for... billing information, credit card renewal... that sort of thing, (not neglecting it was pink).
For Billy...
I must have stood with it in my hand for five minutes. I don't know what was wrong with me. It was just a card...
Though a very friendly, pink one.
If I were analysing my feelings from any purely observant standpoint, I know how I would pinpoint them - jealousy. But the word just doesn't really sum it all up. And, besides, it makes me bloody worried about what I've been saying and doing these past few weeks. It makes me bloody worried about my intentions. Makes me wonder why I bloody didn't see it before.
I can't be, can I?
He's married?
Shite, I'm such an idiot.
I'm sure it's probably just some of his family, and I'm getting all roughed up for no reason. It came from Scotland, anyway. Why would his wife be in Scotland while he's right here? And you'd think he would have brought this up before, you know. Even if he didn't have a reason to, a wife is kind of a big part of your life. About half of it, isn't she? Damn it, I'm such a fucking idiot. She's probably his mum. Or something. She's just writing in to check up.
But he's a grown man. And it's not as though he isn't handsome. And sodding brilliant.
Shite, I can't believe I'm thinking like this.
Since when did this all happen to me? Wasn't he "just a friend" all of one day ago? Now I'll have to see him tomorrow with bloody butterflies in my stomach. And I'll have to ask him, all because of my bloody sick curiosity.
When did my heart decide to make up bloody feelings for him?
I wish that my heart had informed my head beforehand. Now both of them will be aching.
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