Wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air. 

After spinning class with J:

J: 'Did you see the guy next to you?'
Me: 'No, why?'
J: 'I think he was just your type. You would have thought he was well fit.'
Me: 'Ugh, I didn't even pay attention, how old was he?'
J: 'About 30.'


So I've not really been doing much the past week. I went out on friday night to a Smiths disco. I saw an old English teacher from High School. I never actually had him as a teacher but I spoke to him sometimes because J did, and he was openly gay. So I saw him coming out as I was going in and we said hi and carried on. 
I text J. 

Me: 'Just seen Mr. A in Star and Garter haha'

J: 'I don't like him he's in my bad books.'

Me: 'Do tell.'

J: 'He tried to pull A (J's ex) the other week!'

Me: 'Haha! I'm guessing he isn't with his bf anymore then? What do you care anyway? Mr. A is a crepper, he keeps looking at me.'

J: 'It's against the rules.'

Me: 'I guess. I'm gonna get wasted now, cya.'

And VW text me that night. He's been moved to Manchester by work and now lives in Alderley Edge. He said he wants to meet for a drink but I told him I can't afford it. He said the drinks were on him but I refused.