So my dad had a work colleague/kinda friend, named Dave, who came around the house often until I grew up. BBQs, meet ups and that sort of thing. I didn’t see him much for a while before turning eighteen, though I still had fond memories of him: he used to give me some money, taught me swimming and was generally nice to me.
One day I had a text from him through my dad, he had invited me for golfing after all this time. Sort of a sentimental birthday gift sort of deal, I accepted.
On the day it wasn’t anything spectacular, just me and the silver head talking. Near the start the weather got wet and long story short he convinced me to come around his house to talk.
I sat at his modestly sized kitchen table, feeling kind of stiff and awkward. “Y’know, you still look great. Athletic.” He told me while pouring wine into two glasses, I tried to chuckle in response but it only came out as a giggle. “I bet you’ve got a boy don’t ya.”