Tuesday, 2 February 2010

Still friends?

Did I actually say the words innocently and flirting earlier?!  P'uh.  Per-lease.
 
The lines of flirting were crossed and then in a last minute feat cold Thirty came back to save the day. 
 
One shouldn't really cross cold Thirty.  In my defence, she's my defence.  She's cold, does anyone else worry about self-third-person-referencing?  No? Good, let's continue.

Mr Smith and I both had inbibed too many alchoholic drinks and we were scarily close of going from sunshine, moonlight, good times to the dark side of the boogie.  But I do, contrary to popular belief have some self control and when my back is figuratively against a wall I can be spiteful. 
 
I knew the night wasn't going to end in sex whether I wanted it to or not. I'm not going to be the other woman.  The end.  

On offer is just friends or not friends.
 
This morning, I read a message that must have been sent long after I had passed out fallen into a deep slumber from Mr Smith stating "I genuinely hope you wake up and forget me..." 
 
What bollocks.  
 
In an attempt to highlight his hypocrisy I replied with "If you want me to forget you, genuinely, your wish is my command".  He quipped back with "On the other hand... We could just be friends".
 
At the end of the day, an expression I hate, we are friends, good friends, we had a great night, and I would prefer to be just friends than not friends

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