There is…
Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.
a twenty-seven year old man bent over my bed, and I’m too busy laughing at a story to really notice.
Probably, because this is a guy I’ve grown up with, and can barely see him as more then the dweeb I knew then. He’s a great guy, a single father, works hard and all that. I want to kick the ass of his ex-wife who used him just to get a kid, because he deserves better then that.
He’s trying to pry the window out, so mum can put in her air-conditioner, it’s fun, watching him struggle (he makes amusing comments). Every once in a while I get a glimpse of his muscles flexing as he weilds the prybar or holds himself up the window to try to reach the top…reminds me why I ocassionally like men. *grins*
Though now I’m pissed, because neither my mother or him treat my opinions about the window with any respect and ignore me.