pistols at dawn

so Patrick and I, we're calling him Patrick now as opposed to BD, are going out again tonight

a local jazz club that I know about, he'd heard about, I frequent, he'd like to go to, my suggestion, he was keen. . .

wow - doesn't take someone long to get a real name, huh (and actually, not many people in my life have one of those around here) but Patrick suits him!

Patrick passed on a message this week from Keith. . . an apology, thirty years on; I guessed what it was about on the third go of naming the individual concerned (first go, actually, when I knew he was referring to an XX)

at 14, I was a tall leggy straight haired blonde (with braces that made me look like Jaws when I smiled) (so I didn't very often)

the XX in question was a shrimp with curly dark brown hair (but no braces)

. . .teenage boys are so shallow, I realised in my 20s - when I had beautiful teeth, a lovely smile, long long legs that reached from the ground to my armpits. . . and I kept the company of real men who could imagine being wrapped up in them. . .

.

.
(see, I can do rude now dave's gone on his hols!)

I'm quite sure she (the shrimp) had other qualities (she must have done right?)

anyhow, of course what I actually needed Keith to apologise for (which he'd probably forgotten, being an XY and thus not understanding the female psyche) was his assertion that I needed to chop three inch sections out of my legs

because I was too tall

I should add, at this point, that the man hasn't grown - he's still a short arse, with all the accumulated baggage that Short Men carry with them. . .

(ok, I'm using a little artistic license here,
but it's my blog so why ever not)

. . .not that I'm bitter

much

;-)

more later - I'm going to have a coffee and a calming fag and think about what I'm trying to say, rather than have it splurge out onto the keyboard and ruin your image of me as a nice person. . .