Oh No...

From the text message boy, last night-via email

...Hope is a dangerous bedfellow...I'm hoping you call me back tonight, it's hard to imagine falling asleep without my Brandy fix...evil, evil, intoxicating girl.....


My Brandy? It has been a while since I have been someone's Brandy. I wanted to be someone's Brandy, right? So why is that making me kind of sick to my stomach? A little itchy on the inside? Maybe he didn't mean it like his Brandy-maybe it is just a display of his exceptional grasp on the English lankiness-I mean he did use the word bedfellow. But could it not of been A Brandy fix-but it wasn't...It was my, like his, like together.

Breathe. Breathe. I was reading too much into this.

I am good now, but I haven't called him back yet.