Patty

Two decades ago, I had a “kind-of friend” named Pat. He had a habit of pointing out my shortcomings.

This is the closest I can recall the last time Pat brought his A (acerbic) game to our conversation.

Pat: “You are the least macho guy I know.”

Me: “How so?”

Pat: “Your doughy hands and fat fingers are a disgrace to masculinity.” 

Me (putting my hands in my pockets): “I think they’re pretty.”

Pat: “You like to take bubble baths like some spoiled diva.”

Me: “Only on the weekends.”

Pat: “You like poetry and chick flicks.”

Me: “You betcha.”

Pat: “I should call you Dawn.”

Me: “If I can call you Patty.”

That’s the last time I saw my kind-of friend Patty.  

Lesson learned: Don’t waste your time with kind-of friends.