I was surprised it was getting-to-know-you time with Sly leaning on a kitchen counter right across from us.

“Uh…”

“Let me explain,” he said. “This shit that’s happening to you does not stink of stalker. This stinks of wronged asshole.”

“Oh,” I replied.

Axl explained further.

“First, he knows your cell number. It’s not impossible to find a cell number, but it requires some work. Second, the threats are not escalating. He’s telling you what he wants to do to you and sticking with that. Third, it’s sexual in nature, which does not preclude a garden-variety stalker, far from it. But he seems stuck on one theme like he either thinks that’s the threat, or he thinks that will fuck with your head or…” he hesitated, “that was something he wanted that maybe he didn’t get and he’s pissed about it.”

“I didn’t recognize his voice over the phone,” I noted.

“If you know him, in order that you wouldn’t recognize him, he could have farmed that part out.”

Great.

I looked to Sly. “Can we have a second?”

Sly readily lifted his lemon-lime ICE and stepped out on the deck.

Yeah.

I understood his reaction.

I didn’t want to be in on this conversation either.

I looked to Axl.

“The last guy I dated was a somewhat long time ago and he was really boring in bed.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Axl replied.

Though, in saying this, he looked both sorry and like he thought something was funny.

I homed in on the last part.

“Bad sex isn’t funny, Axl,” I told him the god’s honest truth.

“I know, baby. Christ, you poor thing,” he soothed at the same time teased.

I looked away and took a bite of my bagel in an effort to share I was miffed.

“Back to the subject, Hattie,” Axl called.

I looked back at him, and in an effort to get this done, got over being miffed.

“Do you think he might feel like you done him wrong?” he asked. “Did he want to end it? Was there a guy before him that might be a red flag?”

All right.

Well…

This sucked.

Maybe one day, in the distant future, when we were enjoying a glass of wine in his Jacuzzi, I could share about lovers past.

And maybe not ever, since there was not much to share.

But before we even had our first date?

Not a big fan.

But he needed what he needed so none of the men in my life felt I needed a bodyguard.

And thus, I had to give it to him.

“The last guy I dated was a couple of months before Lottie met Mo,” I shared.

“Whoa,” he muttered.

Yeah.

It wasn’t years ago but it wasn’t weeks ago either.

The curse of the shy girl.

I sallied forth.