Dear Bridget, I\'m writing this letter because it\'s highly doubtful I\'ll ever garner the courage to say this to your face. --Simon.
It\'s doubtful I\'ll even end up sliding this letter under your door anyway.
Whatever you choose.
Or don\'t.
Think about it.
No questions asked.
More specifically, it\'s to let you know that I\'m leaving said door cracked open from now on in case you\'d fancy a British Bedmate in the middle of the night sometime.
So, what\'s the purpose of this note? I guess it\'s a reminder that we\'re adults, that sex is healthy and natural, and that you can find me just through the door past the kitchen.
And as crass as I appear when we\'re joking around about sex, my attraction to you is not a joke.
I notice your eyes when you look at me, too.
The only reason I\'m even admitting all of this to you right now is because I don\'t believe it\'s one-sided.
I want you. for some bloody reason, I can\'t stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.
But here\'s the thing...
I\'m just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England.
You\'re the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders.
We\'re totally wrong for each other.
So, here goes.
Dear Bridget, I\'m writing this letter because it\'s highly doubtful I\'ll ever garner the courage to say this to your face
