It was just a few words here and there watching football. By the time it got towards midnight, it was just myself and an older stocky guy with a moust...che and slightly posh accent. His name was Derek. We chatted away a bit more and he was asking if I was married and this and that, and he got round to talking about the time spent away by guys in hotels. He started talking about dirty magazines he found under beds in hotels rooms ( the internet was in its infancy at this point), and jokingly. ”I chuckled, “Maybe now. In the past I was a hell of a drama queen.”“Yes, and you learned to control that. You mastered it so it no longer masters you. But every once in a while it sneaks out, like it did about an hour ago. You have decent self-control, but you have to watch your temper.”“I haven’t told you about the situation with Joyce.”“No, you haven’t.”I quickly explained what had happened over Christmas break and how I’d reacted, at least from my own perspective.“Interesting. So this. More

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