Then, about 11pm the brave part of me wakes up, and in turn wakes me up.
"Erika. Erika!Don't you realise what happens tomorrow?!?!? IG2 is going to be at work! Going! To! Be! At! Work! You're going to have to talk to him. As if he isn't the most beautiful manboychild in the entire universe What are you going to say??!?!?!"
My stomach does a slow roll, colliding into my uterus. "Well self, I thought what I might say is 'Hello.'"
The pause my excited-self gives me embarrasses me. "You've got to be fucking joking."
"Nope. I thought it would work. It's simple, yet effective."
"As in, not brave. Not like me at all."
And so the brave part of me that never sees the light of day starts to make plans for me to attempt to fulfil in sunlight.
"Right. This is what you're going to do. When you see him in a room alone, just walk up to him and say 'You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I just thought you should know.' and then walk away."
"I'm not doing that."
"Then what about this: "Hey IG2, what was the foot massage all about that night? I only ask because where I come from a foot rub means something, even when it doesn't mean anything."
"Huh. That could work - I could say that."
"Yes!" And the brave part of me punches a fist in the air, and bounces on the bed. "Now we're cooking with gas!"
"And then what-?"
And she shakes her head, and bites the cuticle on her right thumb. "Well, it would depend on what he says. But I really think you should point out to him that you hate people touching your feet, and you really didn't mind him touching your foot, in fact, you kinda dug it. A lot. And you'd like to know if he'd be interested in taking it further."
"That sounds reasonable. I could do that."
"Of course you can bloody do that! That's easy!"
And the brave part of me is right; saying all that would be easy. It's the hanging around to hear his answer that would be the hard part.
And so the brave part has got me all worked up and excited and all brave-like ready and raring to go. And I lay in bed just thinking about the next day, and what I'm going to do, and how I'm going to say things, and I Am Ready. Freddy.
The next day arrives oh so slowly. And I'm gonna do it - I'm gonna say something to IG2, and I'm gonna lay myself on the line and see which way the winds blow. I get to work, Crusty and I have a morning coffee, and then IG2 walks in.
I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and state that not only does he look like Ioan Gruffudd, he looks better It may be because you can just reach out and touch him. And you can smell his manly smells. And bask in his cheeky grin close-up. And put that gleeful glint in his eye with a quip. And if you were brave enough you could touch his curly hair. Or the vein in the back of his hand.
But he is there, and I am there, and we are sharing a room. And the first thought I have once my heart beats steadily once more is "I really should have put my brave underwear on."
And I shall continue