Mea Culpa

It's come to my attention that I never discussed what happened when *Brad*, the construction-worker, showed up at my place for his keys.

Apparently he rang the door bell, but I can't hear it when I'm in my bedroom, on the second floor. So he called me, explained he was outside. So I went downstairs, he ding-donged me, I opened the door, and wow, he is hot. Even in daylight.

I was wearing my sweat pants (where does that term come from?) and a yellow t-shirt. My sweat pants are navy blue, so I had a contrasting colour scheme happening. Am I gay, or what?

So he blabbed a lot to me. Maybe he was nervous. But he sure looked cute. I thought I'd play it cool with him, showing very little interest, because for some mistaken reason I thought that's what bi-guys want. Even though I wanted to say to him, "Do you want to come in and have some fun?"

Anyway, he said he'd call me sometime (roight!), and by the way, I did feel guilty that I'd picked up his keys. I did all the apologizing necessary. He was very kind about it. Mea culpa. He is better looking in real life. His blue eyes shimmered in daylight, and his brown hair looked like he groomed himself in his car mirror.