(respectful) red male, not red fail

Red is not one of my fave colours; or, at least, not until a minute or so ago.

I’ve realised that in my universe of strange meaning, allegory and metaphor that the colour in question can indeed signify a fail male.  But now I also realise it can just as easily equal a red male: and in all the terms this could suggest, good and bad.

And so I decide forthwith that I shall take red to mean red male, but of the respectful nature I have always striven to live by.

No longer shall I sit next to my life and weep.

But neither shall I commit the error of waiting for a woman who clearly can neither communicate what she wants – or, alternatively, is choosing to all too gently say: “Back off!”

There are moments we must know how to drive as the red males we would like to be known as, and there are moments – above all – when respect is everything.

Keep in mind, however, that not only must we respect the dignity and integrity of others: it is just as important to respect and value our own.

So.

This is just to communicate I have recovered from two unrequited loves in as many months: the first led to an eleven-year depression; the second to a foolish two-month infatuation.

And I am sorry for all three parties – myself included.

But there it is.

There it is done.

And there we may move safely on. In friendship, if all three wish.  And in fond memory, if not.

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