Bridget Jones | Bridget Jones' Diary (singletonjones) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-07-03 21:18:00 |
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It had started out as one glass of wine: one glass of wine because Bridget was feeling a little bit down. It had been months since Mark Darcy’s disappearance and still no sign of him returning. Maybe he was never going to return and if he didn’t what would she do then? There were dozens, no hundreds, of extremely fit men, probably some of them who weren’t even fuckwits, or workaholics or any of the other hundred things she’d said she wouldn’t mess with anymore, and yet she hadn’t had a date since Mark had been there. Admittedly she hadn’t wanted a date, precisely, because she really wanted Mark, but at the same time it had been a very long time since anything interesting had happened, and Mark was not there, and it had been rather unclear what their status was – this was cause for the second glass of wine and about thirty minutes of rather vexing contemplation of said uncertainties – and who was to say that if Mark did show up that he would even be from the same point? He might be from before from when he was married and not even know who she was, except possibly a very vague memory of her playing in his paddling pool – and the third glass of wine was poured – and so what was she waiting on? It was just incredibly awkward being here. She stared rather maudlinly into the glass of wine and considered everything. Yes Mark might come back, but no there really was no guarantee was there? And even fewer guarantees that he’d be willing to say ‘yes, Bridget I like you and I would really like a rather fabulous shag at the moment, thank you’. Which was just depressing if one spent too much time thinking on it, but at the same time it was also rather freeing because it meant she really shouldn’t sit and wait around on a bloke that might or might not show up ever or be interested in her if he did show up, which was that really that much different than real life? Not to say that life here was not real life, it clearly was, but at the same time it was not real life back home which made it different than ‘real life’, whatever real life was and by now she had thoroughly confused herself, which was absolutely nothing to do about the wine in any way shape or form. Probably not at any rate. No. Definitely not anything to do with the wine. It was just this place. This ridiculous place with Superheroes that although more tangible than in her London, equally untouchable. Or maybe they just didn’t notice her. Maybe she ought to make them notice her. Captain America would be interested, right? No, Captain America was far too… well… she had a difficult time imagining him just shagging a girl senseless, because he was Captain America. But there were others. She punctuated this thought with a glass of wine. Bruce Banner was dating someone she was pretty certain, plus there was that whole thing where he might turn into the Hulk, which could be inconvenient in the middle of an orgasm. Clark Kent, oh, god, yes, but Lois Lane had just showed up and Bridget was pretty certain she couldn’t hold a candle to that. Someone like Han Solo would be incredibly hot, but Han Solo wasn’t here any longer, and even if he was Leia was also here and that couldn’t be – oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Indiana Jones. She’d thought about Doctor Jones before when she and Ivy had been talking, and at the time it had seemed like a dreadful idea to text him out of the blue, but right now? Now it absolutely and completely seemed like the best idea ever to text him. After all, she simply could NOT sit around waiting for blokes to come to her and Indiana Jones had explored the world hadn’t he? But he had never explored Bridget Jones, and no they weren’t related, oh god, they’d best not be related, no of course they weren’t – anyway back to the point. EXPLORATION of Bridget Jones, wine sip punctuation mark. Now where was her bloody phone? |