The Matador and I are going to the doctor today. (Not a "real" doctor.)
He's picking me up.
He made the appointment. When we were dancing my leg was numb and I stumbled. No...I was NOT drunk. Okay, maybe a little....
It's still numb.
It wouldn't surprise me if he scooped me up and carried me.
It wouldn't surprise me if he threw down his jacket over a puddle.
...he's the Matador.
Yea...I still have a "thing" for the "King". But the Matador actually DID something. I don't care what you say. All I care about is what you do.
But something is off. I can't put my finger on it. I will. I'll get there. I always do.