I know how to be a friend; the kind you can
count on to help you out of a jam, someone to
cover your ass, someone to pick you up when
you’re completely drunk.
But I’m not a man who loves and more than
that, I’m not a man to be loved.
It doesn’t bother me that that’s what everyone
thinks. It doesn’t bother me that the whole world
thinks I’m a mother you-know-what.
I don’t want her to think that.
Erin has always been a friend, a hard worker.
She’s a fun girl, smart like no one I know. She’s
not fuckable. I had this idea very clear the first
night she came to work for us. With her ironed
work clothes, her short-styled hair tucked behind
her ears. Her light, yet professional make-up. Her
formal and grammatically correct way of speaking.
I understood very quickly that she’s not the kind of
trashy woman that I would want to take liberties
with. Not even considering that she’d be working
with us, I could not ruin things by taking her to
bed.
And everything was going just fine.
She started bringing around that asshole
boyfriend of hers. I didn’t see him much in the
pub, he didn’t go for that type of atmosphere, but it
was enough to see him a few times to understand
what kind of man she liked and I certainly wasn’t
in that category. I like her, always have, but I put
her in the ‘non fuckable’ category and she
