I’m always super friendly, generous and absolutely wonderful with the ladies who come into my life. It doesn’t matter if you’re just a friend, a girlfriend or more, I believe in respecting women and treating them well. I guess someone forgot to tell me that women don’t appreciate men who treat them well. They prefer dirt bags and thugs to nice guys. Why is that? I don’t have a frigging clue, man. I couldn’t tell you why women throw away good men and take up with jerks. Is being a jerk a sign of masculine prowess in the eyes of most women? Maybe. Who knows what goes on inside their brains? Whatever. Anyhow, here I am at home. June and I were supposed to catch the 5 : 40 PM showing of The Expendables 2 at the Blair Cineplex in the east end of metropolitan Ottawa, Province of Ontario. It’s the first Saturday of the month of September and it’s still warm. It still feels like summer. The summer of 2012 belonged to a beautiful Afro-Caribbean gal named June and me, Stephen. The Boston-bred. She had to tell him something. It was vitally important. Suddenly, Sarah was flying up backwards away from the boat. No! She had to reach him! She tried to go back, but she was being ripped away now, up through the cold grey clouds. And she realized she was no longer in the dream. She felt her eyes move under her eyelids. She heard herself breathing. She felt her arm move underneath the comforter. She was in bed. Home. The boat was gone. Danny was gone. Yet she felt something moving. A warm hand rested on her stomach. Not her hand. And something else was moving back and forth. A thumb. There was a thumb in her bed. Also not hers. She felt a hand on her stomach and a thumb was moving back and forth over her belly button. Odd. But still, it felt nice. She breathed in deeply and opened her eyes. Groggy. As her eyes focused, she saw a dark mass next to her. It was a man. There was a man in the house. Again, odd. She focused. This was important. She looked the figure over with.
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