he made rows for the crops. i dropped in carrot, leek and radish seeds. within 10 minutes he was putting his arms around me asking for kisses. i was covered from head to toe with soft soil peppered with miracle grow and compost (which is 15 % chicken manure). he told me i smelled good.
after hours of planting seedlings of heirloom tomato's, fennel and eggplant i nurtured the crops by lovingly watering them (he did it). we retired to my living room for an ice cold beer. he wanted to watch "the game".
i don't have the sports channel. (whatever that is)
"if you're gonna be my girlfriend", he said, "you're going to have to get cable".
"if you want to watch sports you're gonna have to go home:" i replied.
my neighbours arrived to admire our progress. they invited him for dinner (he's their friend). he took me to dinner instead. he opened the passenger door to his convertible 2009 black Porsche Carerra. but i don't like men in convertible Porsche's. i have zero tolerance for playboys and told him so. "would it make a difference it had a hard top?" he said.
after dinner we plopped on my couch. he tried to kiss me. i don't kiss on the first date. (yea, that rule flew out the window). playboys have "skills".
you may have noticed my current failure to capitilize. you need a left hand to depress the shift key. in blocking one of his advances i heard a "crack".
(this only happens when you don't have medical insurance.) the second doc showed me the x-ray. the broken finger was not the problem. she called it a "cyst" but i knew better. she called the radiologist to ask if he thought it was malignant. she made an appointment for me to meet a specialist hours later.
In the ensuing hours i reflected on my life. i thought of a certain someone, i visualized talking to him to keep my mind off what i knew was coming.
before you raise an eyebrow at the gardener's use of force...it turns out i have a tumour. it displaced 90% of the area making the remaining shell of bone fragile.