He’s clever. He’s handsome. He makes you feel at ease. That’s your Brandon, he’s a catch!
A little “thanks, love” here and a “you’re such a dear” there and in that warm afterglow of feeling appreciated of course you’ll loan him a couple of twenties to fill up his car, and maybe a fifty so he can get that jacket he needs for some meeting with the bigwigs. You wouldn’t want such a good guy to be short when his pay day is just around the corner and he says he’d do the same for you.
Meg says he’s been messing around with Jake’s wife on Thursdays when Jake goes back home to help out his mum. But Brandon told you last week that “Meg is jealous of our relationship” and “she’s trying to drive a wedge between us,” and besides that “hasn’t she been making eyes at Jake for years?” Not likely to believe anything that meddlesome witch says. “Can’t get a man of her own so she’s trying to cause trouble with yours,” he says.
He’s so caring and such a good listener, your Brandon. Just the other day he patted your hair and made soothing tutting noises, getting all riled up in just the right places when you told him all about that hag Betty at work who embarrassed you so dreadfully, telling everyone that you’re the one who clogged the toilet. What a nightmare, standing in the loo watching the water level slowly rise and rise. It hadn’t even been you, but the stares and whispers circulated the office nonetheless.
Brandon’s such a comfort though. He’s so sympathetic. Not like that awful friend of his, Kevin, who’s suddenly started calling you Sally Stinkbottom and snickering like a schoolboy whenever you’re around. So immature. I guess you’ll never know how he heard the story, but at least you’ve got Brandon on your side.