<p>Dear Bridget,<br /><br>I&rsquo;m writing this letter because it&rsquo;s highly doubtful I&rsquo;ll ever garner the courage to say this to your face.&nbsp;<br /><br>So, here goes.<br /><br>We&rsquo;re totally wrong for each other. You&rsquo;re the proper single mum with a good head on your shoulders. I&rsquo;m just the carefree British doctor passing through town and temporarily living in your converted garage until I head back to England.<br /><br>But here&rsquo;s the thing&hellip; for some bloody reason, I can&rsquo;t stop thinking about you in very inappropriate ways.&nbsp;<br /><br>I want you.<br /><br>The only reason I&rsquo;m even admitting all of this to you right now is because I don&rsquo;t believe it&rsquo;s one-sided. I notice your eyes when you look at me, too. And as crass as I appear when we&rsquo;re joking around about sex, my attraction to you is not a joke.&nbsp;<br /><br>So, what&rsquo;s the purpose of this note? I guess it&rsquo;s a reminder that we&rsquo;re adults, that sex is healthy and natural, and that you can find me just through the door past the kitchen. More specifically, it&rsquo;s to let you know that I&rsquo;m leaving said door cracked open from now on in case you&rsquo;d fancy a British bedmate in the middle of the night sometime.&nbsp;<br /><br>No questions asked.&nbsp;<br /><br>Think about it.&nbsp;<br /><br>Or don&rsquo;t.&nbsp;<br /><br>Whatever you choose.<br /><br>It&rsquo;s doubtful I&rsquo;ll even end up sliding this letter under your door anyway.&nbsp;<br /><br>--Simon<br /><br>&nbsp;</p>