Years prior to meeting my lady, I dated a lot. One of those dates was with a new woman who had just moved to our town. She had classy written all over….and those leather pants…drew me right to her.
We had dinner a few times, nothing more. I wanted more, but there was just something inside that warned me of impending danger. Then I wanted her even more. I could tell that she was fond of me as well, or at least that is the impression that I got. She would call almost every day, asking me to drop by, have a drink and a chat.
She had the longest legs I ever seen on a woman. Long and sleek. Cold black hair that fit her just right, and a perfect face; even her perfume was just right, not too strong, but strong enough to tell you that she was in the room. I wanted more than friendship, a lot more.
I never asked for more because I just never had the courage, that and I witnessed her shoot down guys who were far more confident than I was.
It was easier to be her friend. Sure she would ask me to do things for her,mostly computer work, but hell, it was worth it, just to spend time with her.
She moved on, so did I, but I always regretted not pursuing her a bit more. Years passed and I never seen her, and then, just last week, she called, “My laptop crashed, could you fix it please”.
Her husband dropped it off, I explained my rates, he agreed and left. When they came to pick it up, she flipped. “Pay you? For What? Friends don’t charge friends! No hello’s, no thank you’s, just an endless barrage of curses at both him and me. To think that it could have been me in his shoes, married to her, abused by her.
I now consider myself a lucky guy for letting her go.
This is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge. The word is Lucky (Adjective)