Lets be Friends
So that is to say, when I was diagnosed, I did have a boyfriend. But all the boxes were ticked for it’s not a forever thing.
- I’m a Nona, he wouldn’t let me feed him.
- He would not sleep over (No, there was no sex) I’m fine with as he was not ‘fit’.
*Fit – The term I picked up from living with two British Geezers for a month, to describe someone as ‘Sexy’. They flicked through a magazine to point out all the pictures; “Fit! Fit! Fit! Not Fit!” Hilarious.
And we’re back.
And he was working, but had some crazy idea that he was the ‘Hero’ in every scenario. He had moved back home at 37. You get me, right?
Oh, good lord. Guys just have that deer in the headlight look, don’t they?
What are we doing? Is this working?
Fine! I’ll rip the band-aid off.
“Let’s be friends!”
We remained friends for some years, which was more what we had been anyway. But…..