Awkward Situations

I should’ve been a Catholic. I feel an insane amount of guilt on a daily basis. For everything I do. Good or bad. I was the kid at school who would feel responsible for switching on the fire alarm when I was off school that day. Some money went missing from the safe at work once, I can’t believe they didn’t suspect me, what with the guilt painted all over my innocent face.

In other incidences where this may occur is if I suspect someone fancies me. Take the boy in the greengrocer’s, for example. I’m pretty sure he has taken a shine to me – it’s the way he smiles when passing me my aubergine. Because I suspect this, it makes me blush which I assume automatically makes him think that I like him. When I don’t, obviously.

This situation is embarrassing but when it starts happening in one’s place of work, it can be dangerous. Take one of our doctors, Dr B. He’s in his early 30s and married with two kids. We have a bit of banter because we support rival football teams (he’s Arsenal, I’m Spurs). This connection is nice because no one else in the surgery cares about football (the majority of the staff are middle class and henceforth rugger buggers). However recently I’ve started to think that he might like me. Maybe I’m wrong: he’s got a gorgeous, lovely wife; two beautiful children and isn’t flirty in the slightest – it’s just something about how he speaks to me. There’s a distinct awkwardness about our conversations, even the ones where we focus on football. 

I just hope none of our colleagues pick up on this awkwardness and mistake it for sexual tension. I swear to you that I don’t fancy him; he’s really not my type and, more importantly, he’s a bloody gooner.

So how can I shed this daily pressure? The only time I haven’t felt guilty regarding my actions is when I cheated on my ex with Mr P. This is probably the worst thing anyone can ever do to their partner and yet, I felt nothing. Obviously, it turned out well, as 6 years later, Mr P and I are still going strong.

Maybe my guilt genes are wired up wrong or something.

This entry was posted in Criiiiiiiiiinge, The Beautiful Game, The Curse of the Drinking Classes, The Hairier Sex (usually). Bookmark the permalink.

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