I was out with my sister and three of our girlfriends today. My sister and I recovered from our fun time last night. We didn't really need to recover, as with every alcoholic drink we had, we accompanied it with a glass of water. But we decided to take the day out before I spilled the beans to my brothers and my mother. The calm before the storm, as it were.
Well, there we were walking down the street through the massive sea of people when I saw two familiar faces. One was Mr X. The other face was pretty and pale, with bright green eyes and gorgeous, dark red curls that flowed so nicely down the slim lady's back. His arm was around her waist, they were holding hands and looking too cosy. Way too cosy, if you know what I mean. Which, I think you do. We're all smart here.
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The girl's name is Tamara. One of my friends. Former friends, I should say. She told me a few weeks ago that she met the most wonderful man. He was taken, but the relationship was on the rocks, it wouldn't last much longer. She said he was always the perfect gentleman, always so kind to her. Her Prince. Well, I said he sounded a lot like Mr X.
Go figure, huh?