The sleeping pill is starting to bury me and I feel the weight on my consciousness and eye lids, and my mind starts to wander. You. Why you? Why me? How did that happen and why doesn’t just extinguish like like loves of past? Another answer that seems to be beyond me.
I received a random text today from a friend in another country who said he knew something about you. I didn’t want to know but of course I had to. Please keep your eyes open and be careful with the new man.
thehopelessromanticdotnet 
Elaborate please. This is alarming.
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Don’t be alarmed. I️ don’t know anything specific. After having worked with a thousand stunt guys, I️ know that they are terrible womanizers, but that doesn’t mean he is. To quote my friend Shannon, “stuntman is French for whore.” I️ don’t want you to think that I’m throwing salt in your game; I just didn’t want you to be unaware or blind.
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Ahh. I see. Well funnily enough, I was told the same about you from a couple of industry folks I met through him. Apparently you have yourself a reputation, Mr. Throne.
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Sure. A pseudo-ladies man when I️ didn’t have a girlfriend.
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But I already knew that. 😉
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By the way, I️ finished an old post, a poem. I️ think it saved it from the date I️ started it, not when I️ finished it.
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So out of sheer curiousity, who is this mutual acquantaince? Also, what’s sadly funny is that I wouldn’t have met him had you not dillydallied on getting in touch with me that one Mardi Gras afternoon in Nola.
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He’s another stunt guy. And as I mentioned, timing has sucked balls.
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I’ll try to find that poem. I liked that one. Have a good weekend
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