J will be expecting me to write a little post saying "it's a public holiday, see you on Monday. If that, as her expectations of my blog posting are probably pretty close to rock bottom. But I'll tell you what she 100% for sure won't be expecting: a secret post where I confess something that I both want to tell her and don't want to tell her.
Here it is.
The other day I was at one of the fruit stalls at Preston Market and a certain song came on the radio. It was from the very early naughties, a pop song that she and I ridiculed hard and often. As I heard the first few bars I thought "Ha! They're still playing this shit!!" and got ready to snigger at it as it built up to the first chorus.
But you know what happened? Reader, I married him. What?! That's not what I meant. What I meant is that I started to really enjoy listening to it. Not to make fun of, but because it was in and of itself pleasing me.
How could I tell J?! I couldn't. I can't. Except like this.
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