***Crush watch***crush watch***

Finally, after many a distraction over the last busy month, and plenty of time between contact, (and the promise of dinner with the Captain), I finally felt that my crush was abating.  Replaced slowly with feelings of deep affection, for a new, dear friend for life, I thought that I was starting to regain a little of the composure that a forty-something woman should have in such matters.

Yep. That ought to do it.

Yep. That ought to do it.

Not so!  My subconscious impishly skipped through my dreams again last night, poking and prodding and tugging at my heart strings – flinging me to New Orleans, and unceremoniously dumping my crush in my path too.  New Orleans looked a lot like Liverpool Docks (a huge disappointment quite frankly) and on the arm of said object of desire, was Marilyn Monroe, sans bouffed hair and makeup, AND a friend from my past life in events.  Bumping into my crush and Mazza in the street was shock enough, a brief chat with them awkward, but when they turned to walk away (no doubt to get up to all kinds of saucy shenanigans), I was devastated.

As if the couple’s nonchalance wasn’t bad enough, my friend from my past life in events, who was left behind too, said, “You know that was Marilyn Monroe, don’t you?”  Yes………………. Of course I f*$King DO!

So maybe I’m not completely recovered from the adolescent madness, and it’s still on my mind, allbeit, only when I’m sleeping.  Maybe that’s progress.

**sigh.  All these imaginings of international jewel thiefery and the unobtainable love interests is exhausting. **sigh again.





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