Artist's impression

There is a man. He's unemployed, intelligent and creative, I'd say the protoype of the boy that was too smart too soon. He told me has a focus problem.
I cannot imagine being unable to read heavenly books (currently The Secret History by Donna Tartt) because you fail to read the end of each sentence, but that's the artist's impression of how his disability is troubling him. At least there's plain old science fiction books that move ahead and don't take too much concentration - the literate blood creeps(this is a verb!)...

I've known the man for give or take fifteen years, but only since a year or three have we found out that however different we are, we share some interests, feelings and we both like Ilse (sorry 'bout meeting her first =) ), but all in all, this was still very superficial.
Just last weekend, I took a chance and called him up to have a drink together (apart from the man only few still know as Mike, this was a stange primer - come to think of it, I've probably ever only invited 3 people to go somewhere just with me: the woman I love on several occasions, Mike just once, and now the brilliant bum (I do say this with love - ever seen 'The Fisher King'?)) You have no idea what a lot of Double Westmalles and Blue Chimays can do to a couple of guys with the self-esteem of a Passer domesticus: before you know it, we were talking about ourselves.

It's quite a shock to hear that the man I secretly admired for his rich social life, declares himself as a sociopath lacking real friends (well, having few at the least)! If I had not been in hand-me-down-armchair in 'Het Volkshuis' (great place to be, BTW), the floor would have had a close encounter of the first kind with me. The man of whom I'm certain makes the heart of several nice ladies that want to be naughty, race, doubts he's ever going to meet 'her' and actually greet 'her'.

I do love my favourite biologist. I enjoy making a little fun of him for some practical (or rather impractical) conducts, but Respect is always written with a capital when I have it, and I have lots of it for one of the few people I saw capable of naming me a The Employees song before Bel80 was on the air. If anything, and if you ever read this (and manage to wrestle through my latinist's impression of writing in English), I hope you want to spend more saturday evenings with me.

How are we doing on the bet, by the way?