Things were getting complicated with my live-in boyfriend. He was completely living off me, drinking and causing all sorts of drama in my otherwise peaceful life with my pound dog Blondie. But I wasn't ready to give up yet. I still needed to be needed by more than just my dog, or so I thought. Bobby did what he could to keep me happy including cleaning my flat daily. I appreciated his effort and told him so but a clean apartment was just not enough to make a relationship work. To top it off, Bobby didn't always have the best timing for things, especially in the romantic department.
One of the times that sticks out in my memory happened just as I returned from my father’s emergency open heart surgery,
depressed, worried and exhausted. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind that
night. When I walked through the door, Bobby had created a romantic setting;
soft music was playing from his boom box as candles lit the room. He was lying
naked on my bed, ready to tear my clothes off.
“I’m so sorry to
hear about your dad,” he said and motioned for me to join him. I just rolled my
eyes and shook my head. We hadn't had sex for weeks and he chose that night? I didn't think so.
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