Can't write about this until later, but I'm mildly freaked out.
Okay, so today after I ate lunch I was on the upper level at Fourth Street Live, where NotHideousGirl and I used to sit and smoke after lunch. I wasn't sitting today, but I was smoking. I was also watching people, like I usually do.
You know how you can recognize your own car, even if you see just a tiny portion of it? Like when you leave a store, and the parking lot is packed, and you don't quite remember where you parked? But you can look across the parking lot and see maybe a flash of fender or something, and you immediately know it's your car?
Yeah, well today I was watching people walking up and down Fourth Street, and I saw out of the corner of my eye a glimpse of blonde hair. I saw that hair, and I immediately knew who it was.
She was walking into T.G.I. Friday's just like she did it every day. Just like she hadn't moved a million miles away. Just like she had every right to be there.
She was with some dude. I assumed this was her new husband. I didn't actually see any dicks in his mouth, because I was pretty far away, but I'm sure they were in there somewhere.
I absolutely froze. I had no idea what to do. I was pulled equally between running away from her and running toward her. So, like I said, I froze. My legs simply would not move. But I somehow managed to get my arms and hands to work, so I emailed RockGirl that I might be dying, and then I called MixedSignalGirl.
I really had no idea what I was going to say. I guess I figured I'd just wing it. I got her voicemail, stammered out that I'd been thinking about her, and hung up.
And so began the wait.
Just got off the phone with her. Everything is fine - I'd been concerned that her mom might be sick. It's just a regular visit.
I hadn't wanted to write anything here until I'd talked to her. I didn't want her to read here that I'd seen her and hadn't immediately run down to say hello. Of course I told her about that on the phone, though.
It's all good.
I doubt that we'll see each other or even talk again while she's here. Not unless her husband wants to spend an evening at a gay bar or something, thus giving her some time to kill.