Married realtor writes me saying, 11 lbs of Nutella, a giant cucumber, you need a man.
I tell him I’m born in Texas. I like things big.
He tells me he thinks the picture of me kissing the tub of Nutella while I flex is really hot.
I tell him I’m disappointed that the tub’s shadow blocks the view of my well-defined bicep.
PS, I add, that’s enough, married man.
He says he was just paying me a compliment, not flirting, and that I think very highly of myself. In hindsight, the right line is…would you respect me otherwise? But I bend a little (intimidation) and instead I say, I’m part Leo.
He says he has to be careful being nice to me or I might take it the wrong way.
I tell him, being nice to me is the only way into my castle, inside a moat, inside a maze, inside an enigma.
I don’t know what that means but I like it, he says.
Just like he doesn’t know what I mean, but he likes me.