I’m forty, flabby, and frustrated. Don’t get me wrong, I have a good home, a decent job, and great children. I had a loving marriage for twenty years where we had our ups and downs. It wasn’t perfect; but it wasn’t awful. Then he died.
After the grief took its course, and the reality of my life set in, I grew frustrated. It wasn’t the bills or the struggle to keep my interest in my work. It was life without a man – the only man I’d been with for twenty years. And before you go all feminist on me, it isn’t that I can’t be an independent woman, but there are certain areas where a man is necessary.
You need a f*ck buddy, my friend said.
I didn’t even know what that meant.
Is it friends with benefits?, I asked.
Better, you don’t even have to be friends, she offered.
Boy, did I need an education in the modern workings of dating, and sex.
A coming-of-an-older age novel. A story for the over forty.
Something new from L.B. Dunbar — a stand alone rom-com.
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