It was bound to happen, I guess. His Facebook profile is set to private, so I can’t tell where he lives, but I’m hoping it’s far from here.
We lived down the street from each other, and my childhood would have improved dramatically if he had moved away soon after we arrived. No details needed, you can imagine.
Anyhow, he’s probably a nice guy now. Gives money to the ASPCA and works each Thanksgiving in a soup kitchen. Or maybe he just finished his 5 to 8 bid in a minimum security prison. Or even scarier, perhaps he is a cop.
No, Jan, we can’t be friends. Not now, not ever. Really, I think I’d rather be friends with my psycho ex-wife. (And that’s not an invitation, honey.)