The Doctor was many things.
Most common out of these was the fact that he was most certainly a mad man with a box, as Amy referred to him when situations got extremely ... well, sticky beyond his control. He might be a a time traveller (or Lord, if one was feeling especially kind to him that day) but he couldn't control everything that happened. Because most importantly, he couldn't control people.

Now while he couldn't control this or the outcome of certain events he never imagined he'd reach the conclusion he had, his fingertips running along the buttons and switches of his beautiful Tardis.
He was selfish.
This realization had come to him as she had been humming, trying desperately to figure out the many switches and buttons before her. But she was no long distracted by Rory, his constant need to be at her side and hold her hand. She was herself in that moment, Amelia Pond, the girl who waited.
The girl who made both of his hearts feel as though they were beating uncommonly fast.

"Are you ever going to let me take it for a test spin?"
The question was innocent, and it had brought a real smile to his lips as he'd shaken his head. Was she completely mad? Granted, she had been spending a lot of time with him but the Doctor assumed that meant she would continue to be the sane one of the two of them.
No such luck, apparently.
Watching her ginger coloured locks frame her features the Doctor blinked, her already large eyes widening in clear frustration as she motioned for him to speak. To say something to answer her question. Snapping back to the moment before him the Doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably as he clasped a hand around her shoulder.

"Maybe one of these days ... y'know, if I've fainted or died off and the universe needs saving, you have my full permission to use my beautiful, wonderful, and don't forget sexy, Tardis."
Amy was clearly unimpressed by this as she rolled her eyes, shuffling off to sulk in a nearby chair as the Doctor turned back to the console.
He was selfish, far too selfish. How on earth had he developed this over a woman? A woman who was bright, gave him hope, and made him want to hold her so close he'd never have to let go of her. So he could always make sure she was safe, that no harm would come to her.
The same couldn't be said for Rory, however. Amy's eyes were clearly void of his memory, of the man who had taken her heart. This was supposed to make him sad, the Doctor knew that. He knew that and he desperately wanted to feel it.
But he couldn't. All he could feel was this odd ache within his chest every time he looked over at her to find her eyes were already on him. The feeling of goosebumps erupting over his skin every time he kissed her forehead, or her hand seemingly found his own.

He was the Doctor. He hadn't the time to focus on problems such as these; as problems such as when faced with a rather strenuous task Amy's teeth very lightly came to bite down on her lower lip.
He was losing it. After all these years he was finally growing old and losing his marbles, wasn't he? Putting himself back to work the Doctor tried to push this from his mind.
Simply because he was a man with two hearts was by no means a chance for him to try and see if he could get one of them broken. For the woman who could break them both by a few simple movements was sitting before him, spouting off specific dates and times she'd love to visit most.

He most certainly was a mad man, it seemed, even without the blasted box.