Calm Down, Gladys, It's Just Your Imagination.

I think we might have a little problem here, folks.



Just a teeny little one; just a teeny, tiny, harmless, there-may-be-some-sort-of-mutual-attraction-between-me-and-Damian kind of problem.



I may be imagining this--hence the title of this post. But last night I locked myself out of the house, and so I had to go get LJs keys and then let him in the house when he came home, trailing Damian behind him. And when Damian walked in the door, he immediately started telling me about something that had happened that day...and I could have sworn there was a moment of definite, electrically-charged eye contact in there.



This, if it actually happened, is--as I mentioned above--a little bit of a problem.

Just a teeny, tiny, harmless sort of oh-by-the-way-Damian-and-LJ-are-sorta-"business-associates"-if-you-get-my-drift-and-did-I-mention-they-both-carry-firearms? kind of problem.



What's worse--I am not entirely certain that LJ was oblivious to the tension. After a minute or two, he went into the kitchen and a minute after that, called Damian in; they spoke very quietly for a couple of minutes, and I know a minor business transaction was accomplished; however, I don't know what else was said. What I do know, though, is that Damian said something to LJ about getting his money to him next week, then turned around and walked out the door and didn't even glance at me, much less say goodbye. Which is highly suspect, in my book.



Now, before you pounce: I AM NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING WITH THIS, even if it's there. However, if you must pounce, here's a good reason: The reason I'm not going to do anything has less to do with morals or right and wrong or treating people fairly, and more to do with this--I am NOT going to be responsible for a "situation". I've got enough dead men on my hands right now, thanks--I'm the only 34-year-old woman I know with a 17% mortality rate among her lovers. (One had nothing to do with me. The other you already know about.) I am not prepared for that statistic to rise any further. I don't know that it WOULD, even if the worst happened--I'm not prepared to trifle with the emotions of armed men, is all I'm saying. It rarely works out well for anyone.



Then I think, this is all in my mind, really--too much work, not enough sex, not enough sleep. This is my normal I-want-something-more-even-though-what-I've-got-is-good thing talking--it's just entirely wishful thinking on my part. And the weirdest part of this: LJ and I are doing really well, honestly! I think I'm just going into my old defensive mode--you know, the one where I chase off perfectly good guys for not being JP. Grasping at straws, tilting at windmills, pick your metaphor.



I think next time Damian comes by, I'm going to find an excuse to be conveniently asleep upstairs--door closed, earplugs in, blankets over my head.