This one ends his name with two "n's."
But there's much more to distinguish him. To recommend him. (And maybe a single worry -that I shall not detail here.)
I have man-friends. And I like them: A lot - individual, in aggregate, as a habit. My man-friends keep me honest - they have done so for over twenty years. There are among them, however, in my opinion, a smaller, elite group.
One in particular, a new man-friend, has been my man-friend since last summer, courtesy of The Savior (who is often top-of-the heap among man-friends, a surrogate brother).
He is The Good G - since he shares his first name with a dreadful, former other. He's different by one "n," and so much more.
One of the best things about him are his axioms, proverbial as they are.
When he makes a snap judgment about a person's character - more likely accurate than not, he says, "He's a real piece of shit." There is no equivocation. A story then ensues, an anecdote in which the person's unlikable traits are revealed.
Another: When a friend complains to him of perceived mistreatment by a lover, a girlfriend or boyfriend, or a friend, The Good G is likely to remind, "It doesn't get any better." I sense - no, I know - that he speaks from experience: his accumulated own as well as years of acquaintances' pitfalls and pratfalls.
Conversely, when someone is stand-up, he might say, "He's the real deal." Lest there be any doubt.
The Good G is generous and thoughtful, has developed his own sensibilities and tastes. I have been privileged to be the recipient of his kind nature. I have stayed at his house, been counseled when in distress, have shared hours of easy and funny conversation.
I would recommend him to any woman, knowing in advance, as I do, his preferences.
I told him of my recent sort-of date - the one where the fellow made a "move," but I felt nothing, and pulled away. He said to me, "You sound as though you feel guilty for not responding. Why? You have nothing to be guilty about. I don't know about women, but if you don't feel it 'in your pants,' then you don't."
"Yes," I said, "We women do feel it in our pants. When we do."
"Well if you don't, then you should feel no guilt."
He was right. I was over it in a second.
"Some of us," he added, "may not be meant for long-term relationships."
Indeed. Maybe not.
A sound observation. A reminder, for when I am next asked that question.
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