getting over it

In my life B.D (Before Dean), I was sort of seeing this guy named Andy, if you can call it that. He was a lifeguard. I thought he was cute. Turned out he was just a bit of a jock. I talked to his friend about music more than I talked to him. The friend told me he loved me in the middle of a pub. I didn't love him. I didn't know what to say, he must have seen this because he left the pub, never came back and never talked to me again.

Now, in life A.D, I became a teacher. I was confident. I was young. I was at my first ever swimming sports, wearing an oversized blue cowboy hat with far too much tinsel on it considering it wasn't Christmas, but that's what you do at the swimming sports.

Swimmming pools have lifeguards.

Of course, out of all the swimming pools, in all the world, he had to be guarding (is that right??) mine. Ugh.

My exaggerated cries of "GO XAVIER!!" (My swimming house) became muted and I swapped duties with a teacher who was not quite as close to Andy, the friend of Mr I love you.

Then, last night, I was at an engagement party with Dean and Mr I love you was waiting the event. I know there's a captain obvious, but if he had a cousin, I'm sure he'd be named Captain Awkward, and Captain Awkward was well and truly at the engagement party.

He had to serve us all night, and when I told one person why the waiter wasn't going anywhere near us, or when he did he didn't make eye-contact, it spread pretty quickly. Enter alcohol. Enter rude (slightly too loud) comments being made about the waiter who apparently looks like a monkey.

I was so mortified. It's bad enough that I didn't say anything when Mr I love you told me he loved me, but this was a little too much.

My life, the movie. I wonder how many embarrassing chapters there are?