A few minutes ago, I was checking out a friend's Facebook page, and lo! there was a old boyfriend. Old would be the word--white haired & kinda creaky looking. Well, it has been a few years. I'd say probably 35. Funnily enough, I remember breaking up with him more than dating him. I guess I'd describe him as cute (back then), but a little too pleased with himself and solidly "disco-lite,"which would not be complimentary even for vintage 1978. I recall the day we parted company better than the year. Valentine's Day. The guy forgot to get me a gift, which was not why we broke up. I could forgive that. He did not get me a card, which I could also forgive. (Or maybe I just didn't care that much.) Promising to atone for his thoughtlessness, he took me to the mall, handed me his wallet and told me to go buy whatever I wanted. Damn. I should have run his credit card to the moon, but as it was, I was speechless. Until I told him where to put the wallet. Until now, when I will write about him because this is good grist for a really sleazy character in one of my stories.
Never piss off a writer, Billy.