Don’t Call Me, Maybe.
Nervous Circuits

You and I have a whole lot of character facets in common; thanks for letting me feel less problematic.

I fairly describe my baggage dimensions thusly; smaller than a Maersk container ship, though a tight fit for their average container box.

Like most folk’s personal storage units, much of the “stuff” inside hasn’t been a part of my life for some time, but if you make me open the box, well there it is. Doesn’t fit now, doesn’t apply, don’t need, forgot it was there, retention very negotiable, so best not to base any considered “bids” on just the one peek inside. (This ain’t “Reality TV”, this is me.)

“And then, let’s go unlock or unzip your “baggage”, ma’am, and I mean right after; ‘You’re turn dear, I’m all ears until you run out of breath.’, because I don’t play those ‘single-sided review’ games no more. If you’re my age and still looking, you don’t have a story, you too have ‘stories’; tales, misadventures and boneheaded errors.

I’ll likely love to hear those stories, no matter what they reveal. Then we can decide if we still might ‘want’ each other. First-look ‘need’ might have sufficed when we were your children’s ages, but certainly not now. If I decide I want you, it will be both in-spite-of, and because-of, and I’d feel best if it were that way for you as well.”

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