John Nampion Versus Begunga Mike’s Dating Guide For Neanderthals, Part Three
To read episode one, click here.
To read episode two, click here.
Mike and I didn't speak too much the first few days back to work. I could tell he was a little embarrassed with how the night at Beckiyama had turned out: No photos and a very large bill for yours truly.
The money part didn't really matter, to be honest - Mike, for all his self-centered blather, had been a pretty good friend, helping me with all manner of construction, landscaping, and electrical projects, not only at the former marital abode, but at the new place, too. He had given me everything from eight-disk DVD players to stereo speakers to X-Box games for the kids, and had even helped me move when I sold my ex-wife's "dream" house after the alimony bill came due. (I stayed in town, but the neighborhood was entirely different, ha ha ha.)
But I could still tell he was a little tense that the long afternoon turned to early morning hadn't worked out differently. So when he finally got around to talking to me, he seemed a little quiet, if not downright diffident:
Hey, listen, we can still work on those profile pictures - next time I promise we'll do it right. And I figured it might help you if you actually took a look at my profile - no one ever has, except for the ladies, of course - so you can see for yourself how it all has to go together to make it right. In fact, I even quiz the gals just before I bring them to my place:
'What about my profile drew you to me?'
That way I can tinker with it and make it even better.
It was a nice offer, I have to admit, and would probably be very helpful, but something in me cringed at the thought of seeing another man's innermost thoughts expressed to potential female companions. It was just a bit too private, and came perilously close to creepy. I didn't want to view soulful bathroom pics of Mike shirtless - just like I didn't want to be privy to his idea of a "perfect" match - especially after hearing second-hand for years about all the Chickee-poos he had ravished (my first choice, "railed", is not suitable verbiage for a family website like this one) in the back seat of his F-250 Crew Cab. (At least he never named names. I was sure I would recognize more of them than I might want to.)
But the Begunga Man insisted I take a look - and he whipped out...his phone, and handed it to me after the page had loaded.