Posts
From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Saturday, May 8th, 1999 5:11 AM
Subject: I am so sorry prat 3
Okay still awake – actually I tried to sleep and woke in a panic.
I remembered what I wanted to say sorry about.
I think I tried to kiss you as you got into the taxi at the end of the night.
I’m not sure if you remember but it was quite cold and we stood there on Stanley Street waiting for a taxi.
We waited quite a while.
Or a least it seemed quite a while.
Or at least I remember you saying that I didn’t have to wait because it was taking quite a while.
This puzzled me.
Why would you say that?
Why would you tell me I didn’t have to wait?
I thought; ‘Is this because she doesn’t want to kiss me goodnight?’
Crazy thought, really.
You had given no indication of wanting to kiss me at all. It was just a moment of
PARANOIA!
But the thought passed because you said it was chivalrous for me to wait and that not many guys do.
But then I felt guilty.
Maybe I had hidden agenda.
Maybe I did want to kiss you.
And while this thought was going around in my head, a taxi pulled up.
But in the interim, I had managed to convince myself that I was going to be true to my subconscious and kiss you.
You opened the taxi door and I hovered.
I leaned into give you a goodbye hug, facing you.
You offered your cheek.
I kissed your cheek.
Then I kissed your cheek again.
Then I tried to kiss you cheek again.
You didn’t turn your head once.
You got into your taxi and drove away and I was left on Stanley Street berating myself for such a dick-move.
Fortunately, I got a taxi soon after. But what was once a thought of
“Kiss her, you moron…”
Soon became
“Why did you try to kiss her, you moron!?”
As soon as I got home, I let my dog, Oftenbark out and got on the computer and started typing.
And this is where we started.
I’m still a bit drunk and have run out of steam.
All that is left is the simple phrase: I’m sorry.
