It’s Too Late, Baby

bourbonAt first, he was perfect – polite, wholly attentive to my needs, always on time, clean and neat, and always asking if there was anything he could do to help me.

We spent at least a few days together every week at the start of the relationship, and on the rare occasions  he had to cancel, he gave me plenty of notice – then quickly made it up to me.

After a month, the calls were few and farther between. I’d leave a message; he’d call back a few days later and say, “Sorry; I’ve been busy. But I’ll be over soon.” Soon became a week. Then two. Then never. It’s enough to drive a woman to drink.

So I stopped calling. Forget him.

Two months ago, though, I caved. He answered, “Sure. I’ll be over tomorrow.”

He didn’t show. He didn’t call.

Yesterday, he left me two messages. I refuse to return them. A woman has to have some pride, after all.

So I’m on the prowl (again).

I suppose for now I’ll have to attend to my own tuck pointing. But if any Cincinnati folks know a good handyman or woman (excellent plaster skills desired), do let me know.

About fitz

Woodworker, writer, editor, teacher, ailurophile, Shakespearean. Will write for air-dried walnut.
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6 Responses to It’s Too Late, Baby

  1. lostartpress says:

    And here I thought you were defaming Pappy Van Winkle.

    Pappy has always been there for you. Always will.

    And good riddance of the handyman, I’m afraid.

  2. Johnnyace says:

    Sorry. I could probably (sheet) rock your world, but I don’t think I would get you plastered.

  3. rondennis303 says:

    Cute. Funny, and very sad.

  4. I was sitting here this evening and lamenting the fact that I finished off my bottle of Four Roses last night and there you go, teasing me. 🙂

  5. Sorry Fitz. 😞 He’s probably a douche bag. Maybe he’ll read this?

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