Me: Where did that come from?
Mr Smith : I was just reinforcing that I don't want too much to be off limits.
Me: It's organic. (In my head I was singing Que Sera, Sera)
I was instantly tired. Mentally. I had just reread "It had to be you". Did I want to be a married man's listening post, and occasional wank fodder?
Later that torturous evening with Keaton, where I pretty much had to spell out we couldn't be friends, I began a self-audit on other friendships. It's a simple equation; output should equal input.
Before I crashed out with a DVD box set, I said to Mr Smith that I regretted meeting him. Not entirely true but on the input/output calculation it just doesn't add up.