Living with the bear child

My strangest relationship is very recent.  This guy is a great businessman working for a world beating chemical company.   So presumably, at work, in meetings, when travelling abroad etc he follows the general rules of conduct in that he acts in a relatively normal way.  This goes out of the window when he’s with me and presumably when he was with his wife who died some years back or past girlfriends.  He likes to refer to himself in the third person.  As a bear no less!  “The bear likes this”, “don’t ask me I’m just a bear”.  He likes to say one particularly word with great frequency – “Baboooooo”  Yep, with the drawn out oooooo.  This will be said pretty much constantly at times. 

He is a consumate farter.  I’ve never met anyone who enjoys breaking wind quite as much as this guy does.  He can’t just let one go from time to time.  He embraces the whole experience to the point of orchestrating the expulsion of air.  He likes to build up to a crescendo.  Fortunately, they are generally of the non smelling variety but when they do smell it lingers like some vicious air pollution, hovering just at nose level.  It seems to stay for hours and no amount of Febreze or other air fresheners will counteract the noxious fumes. 

He’s prone to not washing or cleaning his teeth enough, but does have the saving grace of being quite interesting and with a good sense of humour.  However, his strangeness doesn’t end there.  He informed me several weeks into the relationship that he owned a pair of great men’s boots!  Cool I thought as generally I only ever seem him slobbing around in a polo shirt and track suit bottoms.  Five minutes later after informing me about the boots he came into the bedroom wearing them.  Nothing else, just the boots.  The boots were knee high stiletto’s.  Really thin stilettos too!  Now we all know that men fart.  Women do to although probably not as much as men.  But men in stiletto’s!  Now I was getting scared.  What type of new boyfriend did I have here?  To make things worse he also told me about being fellated by a pre op transexual.  ‘Apparently’ at the time he didn’t know the she male was a bloke.  When he was informed of this he decided that the blow job was too good to waste (he being on the receiving end) so he allowed the she-male to  just carry on.  Warning bells were now going off in my head with the same intensity as Westminster Abbey during the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. 

Do I have an unerring ability to pick odd balls?  Or are most men just a bit weird? 

Did I mention his smelly feet yet?  How can anyone have feet that smell so much that even the owner of said feet find them a bit disgusting yet not want to do anything about it?   I recommended amputation but that didn’t appeal to him.  My second suggestion was to see a chiropodist but that fell on deaf ears as well.  He seems to have formed an attachment to rank, stinking bishop cheese feet.  Sadly, he seems to expect his girlfriends to accept living with a man who smells as if he is walking about with his feet firmly implanted in wheels of gorgonzola that had been left out in the sun a bit too long.  It’s all a bit off putting don’t you think girls?


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