Sex And First-Time Girlfriends Make For Surprises In Middle-Age
“I’m telling you, Frankie; she really likes you. You should ask Liz out. She’d love it.” Chris said, fixing a gaze at me that I interpreted as, you’d better say yes or stop complaining to me about being alone.
I didn’t answer.
All I could think was, Why’s my old girlfriend asking me this? Is this a joke I’m not getting?
And then she flashed it.
Chris, my first girlfriend from over forty years ago, put on her; I’m fucking serious, Frankie, face.
I sat there, still saying nothing and still utterly confused.
Our mutual friend, Liz, had gone to the washroom.
I was sitting alone with Chris in my tiny but cozy living room, struggling to open the third bottle of red wine for the two of us.
Chris and I had ploughed through the first two bottles like we were in imminent danger of being sent to a liquor-free dimension.
The two of us always drank too much and too fast when we got together. It’s what we do; it’s our boozy hobby if you will.
My old girlfriend always brings over the best red wines. She finds these ballsy, full-bodied, dirt of the old world-tasting vintages that even a Vampyre would fall in love with.
