The word every person wants to hear after hearing the word ‘biopsy’.

We leave for vacation with the kids tomorrow, I was so glad to get the call this morning alerting me to my results. Now I don’t have to worry about coming back to town for a doctor’s appointment mid-week.

I can go to the cottage. Relax. Eat. Drink. Kayak to my heart’s content without wondering or worrying.

I can breathe.

Let vacation begin!


Emergency Contact

This weekend was a full one for myself and Mr. J2.

On Friday night we had our first family sleepover.

I had spent the night in the house before, but only when one of the kids was home. This time, both of them were there.

I think both kids may have teased Mr. J2 a little about it but it went off without a hitch.

And if they heard the noise coming from their father’s room at 11 pm and again at 8 am… Ahem.

What can I say? We can’t keep our hands off each other.

And to be honest? That’s not a bad thing. It means that Dad is happy.

Mr. J2 and I also saw a lot of each other this past week. I was there for dinner three nights out of five.

The interesting thing was that when I wasn’t there on Thursday night, Mr. J2 told me that as he was preparing dinner, The Daughter asked where I was.

Which again: that’s not a bad thing.(At least in my books.)

So on Friday night (before the bedroom started shaking) everyone was doing their own thing. The Boy was in his room playing his online games, The Daughter was in her room putting together a very intricate Lego design, and Mr. J2 and I went for a walk after dinner, followed by some wine and couch time.

Exactly how I think a typical Friday night will be.

The next day was a family gathering on my side: my niece had her son’s first birthday party at a restaurant, so 19 people gathered to eat Asian food and wish the baby a happy birthday.

Mr. J2 and I sat with my brother and his girlfriend. Then we went to her place for drinks following the party.

After a few glasses of wine – and perhaps another one at home – the night turned into a typical Saturday night for us.

Wine was consumed.

Clothing came off.

And the clothes weren’t the only thing to come off. (Once again I lost track of how many orgasms I had.)

Am I bragging? Maybe just a little. #sorrynotsorry

On Sunday, we had more downtime and a visit with more extended family. We changed some tires on my car (okay, I watched it get done), some beer was consumed, some car talk happened.

After a quick stop at my place to pick up more supplies, we headed back to Mr. J2’s house so he could lie down and rest.

On the drive there, we chatted about my ex-brother in law, whom we had spent the morning with. (Technically he is my ex-sister in law’s brother, but I’ve known him for so long (38 years) it’s easier to just refer to him as my brother-in-law.) We were talking about things and I casually mentioned that he was my In Case of Emergency contact on my phone.

Then, Mr. J2 said “well when I was at the hospital earlier this month, I put you down as my Emergency Contact.”

Yeah, that.

If I hadn’t been driving at the time, I would have given him a hug and a kiss, because that?

Brought me to tears. I was driving and had to keep it on the down-low, but still.

I’m his Emergency Contact.

And it warms me to the bottom of my heart to know that I was the first person he thought of when filling out the form.


So tonight, I will change my phone contacts to list him as MY emergency contact.

Because even though there’s no one else I’d rather have fill that role, it’s one more step in our relationship. One more connection we have to each other.

One more way of saying that he is mine – and I’m his.





Spicing Things Up

So last week I was sick. Both of us were, actually. Mr. J2 caught the same bug I did, although not from me. (I lay the blame on his son who we jokingly call patient zero.)

No, we didn’t play hooky from work – we both were legitimately sick. I’m still battling it now, but he’s much better.

We spent two full days together, just lounging. We had a lot of sex – although we decided to forgo kissing until we were healthier, and both of us were having a difficult time with that part of it. We both love kissing so much that to have it removed from our lives felt a little unnatural.

And a little dirty if I am being honest. But in a good way.

We still talked. Cuddled. Held hands.

And had some mind-blowing sex.

We talk so much about everything. We talk about moving in together, about money, about how we feel, about past experiences, about how good the other person makes us feel.

Is this normal? It’s new for me, to actually be with someone who listens to me and who talks to me.

I overheard him talking to his brother one night while we were sick. I was upstairs in bed trying to read, and he was downstairs on the phone. I wasn’t trying to listen; the house was completely silent, and, well… sound travels.

He told his brother about our plans to move in together. Not the actual plans, as we don’t really have any yet, but that we had talked about it and would likely do it in the fall. I heard him say, ‘it might seem forward after only a few months but it feels so right. It’s so different when I can talk to someone about how I am feeling and I know they will listen and not judge me. I can just be and not worried about the reaction I will get when I open my mouth to speak”.

Then I heard him say something to his brother that I said to him earlier that night. I had told him that one of the reasons I think it’s working out so well is actually because he only has the kids half-time. He is able to spend a week being Mr. J2, and not Dad. He misses them, of course, but in that time he can focus a little more on being a man. Focus on his needs and wants and not putting his kids first all the time.

I was really surprised when I heard him tell that to his brother, and that I was the one that had said it. He listens. He absorbs.

And I do the same with what he says. And one of the things he had said was how in his marriage he spent a lot of time begging for bad sex – and his wife was selfish in that way, as most women can be, which I just don’t understand. I guess they were just a bad fit sexually. No, he doesn’t have the largest dick I’ve ever seen, but with some experimenting, we’ve learned how to make it work really well for us. He makes me squirt, which no other man has done with his dick before, only manually. So obviously he is doing something right.

Like I said, we’re just a good fit.

But pleasing each other makes us happy. And I really enjoy making him happy. So when we were talking about stuff and I happened to mention that I have a trench coat and high boots, he immediately jumped in with the image of me not having anything on underneath.

But I went one step better. He was at my place last Wednesday afternoon and I excused myself to use the washroom. Instead, I put on a set of garters and bra (which he told me he loves), the boots and the trench. Then I went out to get him and asked if this was the look he had in mind.

The expression of surprise and joy on his face was worth a million dollars to me. Not only is he always so appreciative of my body, but just the fact that I went that extra step to please him meant so much more to him.

That’s what I don’t want to forget. To take things to the next level with him. To not get lost in the same routine that couples get into. Brush teeth. Get in bed. Light low (he likes lights to see me). Hug. Kiss. Touch. Naked. Fingers. Teeth. Penetration.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Definitely not. But with him… he makes me want to take things up just a bit. To keep the spice around.

So that Wednesday, after he snapped some photos of me in the trench coat and boots, I led him to the bedroom and did some naughty things to him.

For most of it, I kept on the trench and boots. For the rest, the garter belt and bra remained.

I didn’t orgasm. That wasn’t the point. The point was for him to lie back and enjoy everything. Curtains open and sun streaming in. A beautiful blonde (his words) there to service him in every way possible. For him to just let his mind go and his body do as it pleased.

And I loved it. I felt powerful. I have often wondered why so many women withhold sex in their marriages to  ‘punish’ their husbands. Do they not know they are denying themselves as well?

He’s still talking about that afternoon. And the next night as well, as I had to see if I could do the same thing to him two nights in a row with the same results.

Turns out I am very, very good at it. I have a talent for it.

I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose this joy I feel when I am with him, pleasing him. Because I know it’s the same for him.

I’m already thinking about this weekend and how I can spice it up. We had talked about the dining room table being a good height for me to lean on – if you get my meaning.

So I am thinking a tight pencil skirt… thigh high stockings, a tight blouse, plunging bra…

He makes me want to do this. The way he looks at me… the way he touches me… for the first time ever, a man actually makes me feel beautiful, inside and out.


The Day After

I’m alive.

Exhausted… but alive.

I slept maybe a couple of hours in total last night.

IF I slept at all.

So my ass is dragging today… but I am not complaining.

It was a great night with Mr. J2.

Throughout the day yesterday, he sent me sweet little emails or text messages. He works driving a city bus so he doesn’t sit at a computer all day like I do, so the fact that he will take a few minutes during his short breaks to send me a quick email or a text means a lot to me.

Some samples from yesterday’s emails:

1st one: Not much time but 🙂

2nd one: Just ate and I’m going to try to get my beauty rest. Lol. Have a great afternoon. (He works a split with 4 hours between so he goes home to nap if he can)

3rd one: Can you feel the anticipation?  I’m a little nervous but good nervous. 🙂

That was the last email. He usually sends me text messages during his break around 4:30. He sent one yesterday but I was trying to nap. Along the same lines as the 3rd email.

I texted him when I left home to ask if I was forgetting anything. I was bringing marinated chicken (he was cooking it), some cocktails for myself, and CoolWhip for dessert (he took care of potatoes, salad and dessert).

His response: Just you.

All together now….. awwwwwwww.

I was incredibly nervous when I arrived at his place. I could barely look him in the eye.

My mind was racing and I was talking a mile a minute. Like a honeybee, I zipped from spot to spot, never staying in the same place for too long. At the sink… on the sofa…. at the window looking out…

I drank too much.

I talked too much.

I was embarrassed too much.

But it all worked out. We had a great dinner at the dining room table. We cleaned the dishes together – he washed, I dried. We talked after dinner while sitting on the couch. About anything and everything.

And we laughed.

Soon the night was getting away from us. Before we knew it, it was after ten – and we are both early to bed people.

We talked about past relationships, past dating experiences and horror stories. (His best one is dating a woman three times, two coffee and one drink date and on the third she told him she loved him. He said to me, ‘what do I say to that?’ (Um… thanks?)

Time was ticking down…. if we were going to do this, we had to get a move on.

I was sitting next to him on the couch, facing him. He had my legs on his lap, rubbing my legs from my knees to my hips.

He hadn’t even kissed me yet. Of course I was nervous.

So he basically pulled me into his lap and then leaned over and kissed me.


Such soft lips. Hesitant tongue. Not sucking the life out of my tongue like Mr. K, but it was good. Sometimes I like a little more tonsil hockey, but it was really nice.

We did some heavy making out on the couch, and when we came up for air I suggested moving things upstairs. It was time. We had talked about it long enough, time for the talk to become reality.

I came out of the washroom (I drank a lot so I peed a lot) to find him waiting for me on the stairs leading up. He put his hand out to take mine.

I’m sorry, I have to say it yet again – he does these really sweet, simple gestures all the time. For some of you out there, I am sure this elicits an eye roll, but I find them charming.

We arrive at his bedroom with his king size bed. He asked me what side I normally sleep on. He also makes sure to tell me that this is a new mattress; in splitting up the house his ex bought a new bed for her place and they had to outfit rooms for the kids so he decided to get a new mattress all at the same time.

I chose my side and sat down. I asked for less light and more music.

He sat next to me and started kissing me again.

We continued making out. Clothing came off.

We laughed and giggled and talked the whole time.

Then he removed my panties. And touched me, very hesitantly.

Now we had talked about how I am not shy to make known what I want. So while he was being all gentle and timid I just wanted to shove his hand inside me.

So, I moved his hand down and did just that.

And he got the hint pretty quickly. And did a damn fine job of bringing me to O #1.

We made out some more, then he got up to get the condom.

Next time I will just tell him to throw it on the bed to have it handy.

As he was putting it on, he told me that he has problems achieving orgasm while wearing a condom.

And I didn’t tell him this, but this was not the first time a guy told me he’d had issues coming while wearing a condom. Mr. J2 was still quite able to perform, just not to finish.

I asked him what he wanted. What would please him.

And he couldn’t really answer me. He said, “up til now it’s been pretty vanilla.”

I got it. He married young, to his college sweetheart. He was with her for about 20 years all together. They’ve been separated for 18 months or so. He was clear on our first date that he had his ‘rebound girl, a friend’.

But I also see him as this genuinely nice guy. He’s not really into the dirty talk – I think he really enjoyed the teasing and talking we were doing throughout. The only thing he asked for was for me to get on top.

Like I said: vanilla.

While on top, I experimented a little by biting his earlobe, then his bottom lip as we were kissing, and he said, with a silly grin, “I really love kissing you”.

We kissed for a bit longer, then I looked down at him and said, “is this where I say I love you?”

He burst out laughing, knowing exactly that I was teasing him from what he told me while we were downstairs. That’s how we were together.

You know the scenes in Friends With Benefits where Jaime and Dylan are talking and goofing off all while having sex?

Yeah. That was us.

Was it hot?


Was it fun?

You bet.

I worked my magic while on top but sadly, no O for Mr. J2.

He got up to pee and removed the condom. He didn’t ask to try again without one, and I really respect him for that. I am willing to bet that I am the second (maybe third) woman he has slept with since his marriage ended, so the chances he has an STI are likely slim.

We rolled to face each other belly to belly to kiss a little more. And cuddle. We stroked each other’s backs for a while. Then I noticed his leg twitching a bit, so I asked if he wanted to move to a different position.

“No, I’m okay’, he said, “it happens from time to time, sitting in my seat on the bus all day, my back gets wonky.”

Then I said the magic words, “Do you want a back massage?”

He was so shocked for a moment he was speechless, but then said yes. So I gave him one. A good 20-minute massage.

And I am damn good at massages.

Here’s the thing: he was incredibly grateful. I think he was just as surprised by my offer as when I offered to pay for dinner on our first date. I have a feeling that throughout his marriage he kind of blended into the background and was taken advantage of. He was out of work off and on (technology sector, need I say more) and so he pretty much raised his kids for the last nine years, mostly on his own between jobs while his wife worked. I feel that he may have felt emasculated, and has been so used to just going along with what others want that he has a really difficult time asking for or saying what he wants.

And he isn’t used to someone wanting to do something for him.

After his massage we cuddled a bit more, then we tried to sleep, but neither of us got much rest. In my case, he has a foam mattress which locks in the heat and makes me so warm. In his case, I think just having someone else in the bed was throwing him off.

At two, when I rolled over and he rubbed my arm, I apologized for keeping him awake and offered to go home if it would help him sleep.

He said he wanted me to stay, if I wanted to stay.

So I stayed.

We slept. (A little)

His alarm went off at 4:50 AM. He got up to go into the shower and told me that I could stay in bed but that he had to leave by 5:30.

I was getting dressed just as he opened the bathroom door. The bedroom was dark, the only light from the bathroom. I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my panties on, facing away from him, looking on the floor for my bra.

From behind me I hear, “that silhouette of yours will be in my head all day long.”


We finish getting ready. We meet on the downstairs landing, and sit on the step while our cars warm up.

He kisses me several times. He rubs my back (sadly through my coat).

I ask if he was going to be okay today, knowing he’s running low on sleep. I apologize again if my being in his bed kept him from sleeping.

He said, “it was the best night of not sleeping I’ve ever had.”

Seriously. Again, seriously.

One final kiss and we are out the door. I follow him in my car out of his neighbourhood then I turn off when I need to in order to go home. He waves, I wave as I pass him.

I received this email from him this morning: “i would like to thank you for your directions last night as it makes for a more enjoyable experience.  🙂  That is a weak point of mine but I’ll be working on it.”

Working on it with me, I wonder?

I like to hope so. While the sex itself was mediocre at best, the overall experience was better than my last few sessions. It somehow just seemed… right.

There’s been no talk of when we will get together next. I know his time is limited; he has two more free nights until his kids are back with him.

I’m pretty sure he’ll want to see me again. I want to see him again. But I have to keep myself in check to avoid falling into the same old routine of falling for someone too quickly, only to have my heart broken when it doesn’t work out.

What do I want? I want him to say he likes me, and that even though he has limited free time, on the weeks when he doesn’t have his kids, he would like to see me when he can.

Me, and only me.

I know that during the time he has his kids we will still email and chat.

And I can live with that.

I haven’t spoken with Mr. J since the night I ran into him last week when I was on a date with Mr. RJ and also saw Mr. J2; he hasn’t texted, I haven’t texted. Mr. RJ was sent packing. Mr. K had asked to get together this week but I knew I wanted to give priority to Mr. J2 so we haven’t been able to connect.

Nor am I inclined to, at this point.

There’s Mr. JO and Mr. R; both I have emailed and/or texted with, but both have stopped contacting me since the weekend. Perhaps they have moved on.

I don’t want to meet anyone else. I’d like to explore things with Mr. J2 and see where they go.

Because so far… I like where this is going.

A lot.



Suspicious Minds

(Two posts in one day… a new record!)

Why is it that when a man seems truly interested in me – wanting to kiss me and touch me and just hold me – that my first instinct is to run away?

And yet when a man treats me like a sex object – like the other guy I had sex with last week who tells me how hot and sexy I am – I am more likely to go for him?

I met Mr. J first. On the second date I had sex with him. And he was good. And it was hot, dirty sex. He kept asking me to spend the night but I had to work the next day so I did the drive of shame around 10 pm.

Then I met with Mr. D. He has said all the right things… calls me beautiful, tells me he misses me, says that I have a big heart… all the things women want to hear.

We’ve had a few make out sessions but he hasn’t even gotten to first base yet. (That may change on Saturday.)

Mr. D could have potential to go the distance. But as always in my life, there are hurdles. The big one being he still shares a house with his ex.

I KNOW! (Thank you Monica)

He says they broke up a year ago and she is only there two nights a week and lives in her own house out-of-town the rest of the time.

So of course, after listening to him tell me he misses me, how he wants to be with me… all I can do is be suspicious.

He’s playing me.

He’s using me.

He’s just trying to get out of his current situation and into another one.

Yet it’s pretty obvious that Mr. J wants sex from me. He was suggesting it the first night we met.

And yet the following night we were rolling around the sheets together.

Yet Mr. D., who has been sweet and kind to me, hasn’t yet made it to first base.

What’s wrong with me? It’s like here’s a nice guy (or so he seems). He’s interested. He’s funny. While he’s not going to be on the cover of GQ, he isn’t ugly, or I wouldn’t have responded to his messages. He’s a big boy, tall and broad and big all over – but thankfully without the uglyman beer belly. Just… tall and wide. Full head of hair, beard that is just shy of hitting lumberjack (of which I am hoping to convince him to trim, although it does suit him.)

Mr. J is short – my height, a little puffy around the neck, face and middle. (Likely from having a kidney transplant last year.) Bald as well – and my only issue with that is he reminds me too much of my ex husband.

So why then am I willing to jump into the sack quickly with Mr. J, while not even showing an inch of skin to Mr. D., who has been patient and kind and nice to me?

Why am I so suspicious of a man’s motives when he shows me any kind of positive attention?

Because I feel that I am not worthy of anyone’s love.

Because it’s easier to have fun with the Mr. J’s of the world and then move on, rather than become attached to the Mr. D’s of the world and get hurt when it ends.

Because it always ends.


Feel It Again

It’s Saturday night. I’m spending the weekend alone.


I know it shouldn’t bother me that Mr. M. is at his brother’s cottage for the weekend.

I know.

But it still does.

I’m a shallow, petty human for feeling this way.

He told me earlier this week that he was going for a couple of days to help bring stuff back and close things up for the season. I had warning.

And he told me yesterday, when date-night got changed (more on that later), that it was his brother’s birthday, and that his sister-in-law was doing something up there to celebrate.

And he also told me that her parents (it’s her family’s cottages) would be there as well, probably the last time this season.

So I understand why he wouldn’t think to ask me to come. It’s not his cottage, nor his brother’s. It’s his sister-in-law’s family’s cottages.

He’s welcome to go up anytime, and does.

And yet even knowing that having such a full house may not be the ideal situation for me to be introduced, it still bothers me.

Which I know is wrong. And why I write about it here, where I hope I realize how stupid I am being.

But it brings up doubts and insecurities.

Which I know is wrong.

I know that he isn’t doing it on purpose. Meaning, he isn’t trying to hide me.

Or is he?

We were supposed to have a date on Friday night. Since he was going to be out-of-town, I asked if we could have a sleepover. A movie night, I’d cook dinner. Just a relaxing evening.

So he agreed Friday night was the best since he would be at the cottage likely Saturday and Sunday nights.

I didn’t hear from him all day on Friday, until he texted me at 6:30 to say he was finishing up and the gym and did I still want to get together?

Duh. (Implied). Of course I replied that I wanted to get together.

So he wrote back that he would head to my place and then we would decide from there.

Hmm…. not exactly dinner and a movie. I figured he had something else in mind so I played along.

He arrived at my place around 7pm; changed his clothes, then we headed out.

Following the same pattern as last week, we drove around for a while before settling on a restaurant for dinner.

When we arrived, he mentioned in conversation that he was waiting for his youngest son to text him; apparently he was going to be near Mr. M.’s house partying with friends, and wanted to know if he could crash there for the night.

This, I realized, is why our plan changed.

Now I am not so selfish a person that I wouldn’t understand the situation, had he actually mentioned it to me directly. Had he said, ‘sorry but there’s a change in plans, Kid2 wants to come spend the night after being with friends. Rain-check on sleepover?’

I would totally have accepted that. I realize that his kids come first – and his kids never spend the night at his place (aged 23, 19) so of course that would have been – and was – okay with me.

He wasn’t dishonest. He didn’t lie to me. He didn’t omit anything. But it’s just… not sitting right with me.

For no reason.

It’s not like we had a SET plan: I would show up at his place with a cooked dinner and movies at 7pm. We kind of left it casual.

So yeah, there is really nothing to be upset, worried, concerned about.


Especially given that I had seen him the night before, as well as on Monday.

Monday was his gym night and he texted me after to say that he felt like going for shawarma, and so he picked me up then we went to his favorite place and shared a chicken platter.

Then on Thursday, he drove his motorcycle over, I fed him dinner and we chatted for a bit. And then after we went in my room and ended up fooling around a little.

He did something to me that made me have such reaction that I broke down in tears.

The good kind of tears; not bad ones. My body was just overwhelmed – sensory overload – and it responded.

By breaking out in tears. Nice. There’s a sexy move right there.

So even after that experience – which was something I had only seen happen to women in porn movies – I still have my doubts.


All because he is spending the weekend with his family.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I mean, really?

We’ve been dating for a little less than 2 months. In fact it was 8 weeks ago yesterday when we first ‘connected’.

And what a connection. We have really good sexual chemistry, but we can also talk a lot about music and current affairs, and books and …. everything. We talk about our pasts, our families, parents, and things that happened to us in previous relationships.

We even talked yesterday about my writing this blog. We talked about how his youngest has anxiety issues, and a little about what he has gone through. I also talked to him about my issues with depression and how this blog helps me by making me see when my behavior needs to change or needs adjusting.

Like right now.

So that is what I am doing; writing now, at 9:30 on a Saturday night so that I can see exactly what’s going on with me. That I worry unnecessarily. And that instead of worrying and stressing about why I haven’t met any of Mr. M.’s friends or family, I should instead think about what he did to me on Thursday night… and look forward to when we will get together next so he can try to make my body do it again.

IF my body can handle it, that is.

So what if he didn’t stay over that night. Or the other few times we had sexy time.

In the last couple weeks we’ve seen each other about three times in the course of a week.

And only had sexy time twice, so…. it’s more than just that.

So I need to relax. Be patient. And when my insecurities rear their ugly heads, I need to  come back and read this blog and all will be good.

Because it will be good.

I’ve no reason to believe it won’t.

Nice Guys Get Bad Raps

I think I am getting the hang of this.

Dating in your forties isn’t easy…. not that dating in your teens, twenties, thirties or fifties (and up) is a piece of cake either.

It’s just… different.

In your twenties, you have a late dinner, followed by an even later movie. Or you have a late dinner and hit the club to dance the night away.

In your forties? If you start a movie any later than 9:00pm there’s a good chance one, or both of you, will fall asleep before it ends.

And a double feature? Forget about it. Unless you start at 6:00pm.

Mr. M. and I have had our share of late nights… the first night together went until about 4am. Lots of talking and cuddling and sharing til we finally had to say goodnight to get some sleep.

We’ve only had one weekday sleepover. Just one. We’ve done a few on the weekends of course, but on a school night?


So instead he might stop over on his way home from work, and we may have a little ‘afternoon delight’ before my roommate gets home. Thankfully that can be as late at 6:30pm so we have a little time together.

I finally realized though that it doesn’t always have to be all about sex. I mean, Mr. M. stopped by my place for a quick dinner on Wednesday, and there was no sex involved. He showed up, had something to eat, we chatted, then he left at ten o’clock.

Perfectly respectable.

Last Friday he did the same thing; spur of the moment came by, picked me up, we drove around for a bit then went to dinner. He dropped me back at my place just before eleven.

He didn’t come in.

And I’m okay with that.

Which surprises me.

I am one of those girls that used to equate sex with love. “If he has sex with me then of course I mean something to him.”

Yep – that girl.

Until I myself had a friend with benefits (FWB). Then I learned that you can be friends and just have sex. It has to be with someone you trust, and there is always the chance that someone (or both) will get hurt.

I still have doubts. As each day passes I wonder if he is going to wake up and decide he wants to see what (and who) else is out there.

But I have to take each day as it comes. If it does happen, I can’t stop it. I just have to trust that it won’t.

Wow. Trust. There’s a word you don’t see too often on my blog.

Because Mr. M. is a nice guy.

And nice guys seem to get bad raps.

On Saturday afternoon and evening, he spent time with his ex-wife and her elderly great-aunt and uncle, who were passing through town on their way to visit family.

He didn’t have to go, I’m sure. They were divorced six years ago; and it’s not like these people are his in-laws.

But, he went. As he said it was probably the last time he would see them since they are in their late 70s.

Some women might get upset that he chose to go, but I am not. I think it speaks to his character to want to see people who used to be family.

Who still are family, especially to his two sons.

Because these people are still his son’s great-aunt and uncle. And to spend just a few hours visiting with them shows great respect.

And to me, that really says a lot about a man’s character.

So let the other women drool over the ‘bad boys’. Let them deal with all the crap that comes along with it.

I have had my share of bad boys and frankly? I think this one Nice Guy is worth a hundred (or more) bad boys.