Written on 6 March 2019
Mitch
Cleanse me you beautiful West Country water. Drive away any impure thoughts. You are a happily married man. Well, a married man, and I'm darned if I'm going to end up like my Dad.
The hair dryer is going. Do I have time to crack one off? I feel like if I crack one off then my physical and emotional energy will be placated and I won't say or do anything stupid. The door is unlocked, though, and it's just like Emily to walk in unbidden. She'd give me shit for the rest of the day. ‘I caught Mitch pulling himself off in the shower earlier. Apparently, he is revolted by my pregnant body’. She'd say that to fricking everyone.
All I can think about is Katy in her dress. The one that got away. My lost love. The girl I have cracked off thinking about more than anyone in the world, bar that picture of the tennis girl my brother had on his wall. I imagine ripping off her wedding dress and. . .
“How much longer are you going to be?”
“Almost done.”
I'm not, but fuck if she's going to allow me this one pleasure on my long lost love’s wedding day.
I could tell her how I feel? Katy, not Emily.
Dangerous move.
Text her now.
Don't be an idiot.
I decide to think about sport instead. When my imagination is getting a bit carried away I always think of a field goal in American football. Play clock runs down. Centre back to QB2. Place. Kick. Net. Arms go up. I'm soft again.
Don't do anything stupid today Mitch.