Okay, sorry Claire. Don’t hate me for this one.  I had a short-lived text message sex situation with a certain sweaty mechanic who has made me want to stab my own eyes out for the past three years that I’ve known him/wanted to lick the bottom of his shoes (or his chest…whichever).  It started this past March, when he awkwardly admitted that he had had feelings for me for the previous two years that we had known each other, depsite his girlfriend (and my ex boyfriend who I had just broken up with two months prior).  So since we both had the hots for one another but couldn’t do much about it because of the she-devil he refuses to break up with, we spent a lovely evening sending each other sexy and even better, skanky, texts while he was at a wedding.  It was the red-headed spawn of Satan’s friend who was marrying her baby daddy, and since she was a bridesmaid, my beefy mechanic had to sit at a table with the other leftovers (most of whom didn’t speak English).  So with his sunglasses on, he sat at the table for 4 hours and texted me his dirtiest thoughts.  The whole time he was looking up and nodding or winking at the spawn to keep her satisfied so that she wouldn’t go over and bother him.  Eventually his battery died and that was the end of that.  Until work the next day …