Day Three-Ninety-Five: Feelin' sheepish

Don't be surprised if I end this entry with 'Dragomir the Dirtwad'. Because that's how I feel. I'm a dirtwad.

I was pissed yesterday. No two ways about it, I was pissed. I spent all day making a nice, cultured meal for Libby, and not only did she kinda insult my cooking, she couldn't even be bothered to sit down and eat with me. Not for a single damned second! How'd she get up the stairs that fast?! GODS was I mad! Grayson's snide little comments didn't help.

Pissed. So pissed. So pissed that I decided to eat with someone else, because after that HUMILIATION - from my WIFE, of all people, my WIFE! - I wasn't going to charge after Libby. I wouldn't stop for a single SECOND to get her to understand how badly I felt. So what did I do? I offered the meal to someone else.

Another woman.

Evangelina.

(Honestly, Bora had been my first thought, but she was busy.)

At the time I barely stopped to consider what I was doing. I was too mad. I wanted companionship, my partner SPAT IN MY FACE, so I went to someone else. We ate, we talked, she drank two glasses of wine, and I ended the evening feeling much better than when it had started. Getting in bed with Libby when she got home was tough, as she barely acknowledged me upon returning from June's home, but I wasn't fuming. I was merely irked, thanks to Evangelina.

Evangelina.

Eeeevaaaangelinaaaa.

Never thought about how close her name is to Eve's. A longer version, but close. The sound is there. As if Eve is the male version of the name, 'n Evangelina is the female. Kinda like Edward and Edna, or Benjamin and Benjamina, or Jasper and Jasmine, or Dragomir and Dragomir… mina. (Might've made that last one up.) Evangelina's certainly more feminine than Eve.

Yet that's almost how I think of her, now. As a family member. 

It's weird. I haven't known Evangelina for long. I've been aware of her for a couple years, true, but AWARENESS ain't the same as KNOWING. And, sure, she's attractive, and, yeah, men ogle her, but… that seems kinda wrong to me. That's never how I've looked at her. She's like… a buddy. Or a brother.

… maybe a sister. Yeah. That makes slightly more sense. Sister. Whenever we squabble or talk or laugh she gives off that sisterly vibe.

When I woke up this morning, though, and Grylock slapped me on the arm and called me a 'dog' for spending an evening with another woman, I knew I'd fucked up. If Grylock thinks it's cool, it ain't.

It got worse, 'cause shortly after lunch, Libby hunted me down. To apologize.

"I'm sorry," she said, pushing me behind a building and nearly snapping my back with a bear hug. "I'm sorry. I was a bitch yesterday. I was distracted."

"Ugh." I struggled for breath.

"You made a nice meal for me, 'n I blew ya off. This thing with June, it's… complicated… 'n eatin' up my time. Didn't think about it at all."

"S… s'okay…"

She patted me on the head. "I just wanna make sure this town's as good as ya think it can be, dummy. You inspire people all the damned time; we gotta make your words look good. You know what I mean? What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"Ah… bug… in my throat…"

"Oh, sure." She cleared her own throat, then leaned over and kissed me quickly on the cheek. "Anyway. I gotta go to work. Next time you make me a meal, I'll sit down. Even if it's kinda crappy. No offense or nuthin'. Ya deserve better from me."

She left me grasping at air. Eventually, when my windpipe righted itself, I found an opportunity to feel shame - possibly because I spotted Grayson watching me from a distance and waving a finger in disapproval.

That little shit.

I'll show him.

And I'll show Libby.

Next week, I'm gonna be the most loving husband EVER.

But, currently, I am just Dragomir the Dirtwad.

I've sent a letter to Lord B.T. asking for some advice. I haven't talked to him in a long while, and being a lord I'm sure he's had his share of romance. Surely he can offer some suggestions on how to get in good with my wife. I can't ask 'round here so much - not only will it spoil the surprise, the best people I know to ask are women. That got me in trouble in the first place.

Oh, and Edmund.

… I'm bad at poetry. So much for him.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the You-Know-What