I was walking into work this morning, fuzzy headed with sleep, apple cheeked with cold and smiley faced with David Holmes on my headphones when I saw That One* across the road. I spent the rest of the walk anxiously pacing myself, keeping a distance between us and determinedly looking nonchalantly the other way lest he should catch sight of me.
Now that I've been at my desk for a few hours, calm and as normal as I get, I'm itching to text him. I haven't seen him in over a year and haven't spoken to him since last Christmas. Just a friendly text to say hiya, saw you this morning, hope you're well...
I know that I shouldn't.
*When it comes to failed (or indeed non-) relationships, there's always one. One who makes you act like a crazy bitch for no good reason. He's That One. Not devilishly handsome, not fiendishly clever, a bit of a lily-livered shite, truth be told. But still there's something.
Now that I've been at my desk for a few hours, calm and as normal as I get, I'm itching to text him. I haven't seen him in over a year and haven't spoken to him since last Christmas. Just a friendly text to say hiya, saw you this morning, hope you're well...
I know that I shouldn't.
*When it comes to failed (or indeed non-) relationships, there's always one. One who makes you act like a crazy bitch for no good reason. He's That One. Not devilishly handsome, not fiendishly clever, a bit of a lily-livered shite, truth be told. But still there's something.
