When you’ve had two partners who have died from brain cancer, you decide that you’re bad luck – like you’re voodoo, cursed with the bad juju.
That’s just the ones that I know of. No telling how many forgotten suckers from the past are rotting in the dust.
Of course, this all happened after we split up. I’m not patient enough to stay with someone more than, oh I don’t know, five years. That’s the record. Five years. Four years of it being, “Ugh, I don’t really like you. Why am I here”?
When you like the sex, but not the commitment, you justify it by saying, ” Well, that’s only one so-called character flaw. It’s not my fault. It’s just some freaky gene passed down from the daddy-side”.
So yeah, if I express interest in you for more than five minutes, you might want to head for the hills.