no house calls

Readers may or may not remember the fundraising movie I attended last week. As described it was a mixture of truly awful horror films featuring evil cats and dogs, edited for maximum amusement. Some popular scenes included a mutant puppet - allegedly a radioactive cat - biting a fatal chunk out of George Kennedy's ankle.
My personal favorite was a demonic Alsatian puppy who eventually convinced his owners to worship him. See below.
But even though I spent the evening seated next to a nice doctor who is attractive in a nerdy way, I never cottoned on that he had chosen the seat next to me on purpose. That is, until the movie was over. Since it was well after midnight and I had to go to work in the morning, I hastily said my goodbyes and headed for my car. It was then that I realized that he was following me.
Did I mention that the nice nerdy doctor is also my doctor friend's ex-husband?
Although he didn't mention it, the current rumor is that Nerdy Doctor's current relationship with the Other Woman (the woman he allegedly left my friend for, although I think there's more to it) isn't working out. So perhaps the rumor is true. I didn't ask him.
Besides being inept at recognizing a pass, another reason I didn't engage Nerdy Doctor is that another, more established romantic situation has been occupying my thoughts during the past week.
Even though I'm unsure why the climate changed, I chose to avoid any attempt at armchair analysis. Instead I responded to the situation by relying on my intuition. And my intuition is telling me to treat him with compassion and empathy; to let him breathe.
You see, his happiness is what is most important to me. But I am still finding the situation difficult to write about.
(Reading this over, I realize it may be a tad convoluted. If it is, apologies. But I'm still stopping for now.)

