Good as Fiction

When my dad told me his best friend was finally returning back to his hometown, I expected him to be someone who got me bored with a word, not the one who got me wet with a look.

I expected him to be someone I would rather ignore, not the one whose fantasies I pleasured myself to.

I expected him to be an addition to my dad's drinking group, not the one I'd prefer to eat me out.

I expected him to be someone my dad went out with, not the one who brought home my college bestie.

I expected him to be more or less an uncle, never my hottest-ever one-night stand.