that was the man i was supposed to marry.

he got off the tube at picadilly, walked eastbound and forever out of my life. i'm afraid the image of his khaki pants, curly sand hair, root beer boots, and dark teal eyes will never leave me. he stared at my shoes, and i stared at his stare. it made my heart hurt, really. a few years my senior, two or three i'm sure. if he'd spoken a word to me with the british accent that i know he had, we'd be halfway to serious courtship by now. i am convinced that I witnessed a great tragedy this morning on my way to wales; never trust a boy from london in dark blue pin stripes. he is far too dreamy for real life. here's to better luck in dublin.