Wingmen.
They can be boost you, they can shoot you.
Disclaimer: I have caused many problems as a wingman, so I quit being one. Now some friends are offended about me running solo, but I paid my dues by introducing friends to girls that they later got intimate with. I am done. For most of them, that is.
Ex-wingmen: have argued with me cause I did not introduce them to girls I was talking to, out of their league; nuked threesomes, I could not salvage the damage; talked shit about the girls I was flirting with; entered in piss racing with me; talked too much; tried to openly hit on my target; deliberately asked questions that teargassed the environment; told the girl I am an asshole to protect her, not to help me.
It is clear over the years I left many wingmen on the ground, to explore the skies on my own.
Enters LuckyLuke.
Good friend, possibly good wingman, even if I suck at it.
Talking about this 21 year old blondie with the body you want to ravage for a week non-stop.
"She is mental" says Billy the Kid
"So?" say I
"She's got the looks" says LuckyLuke;
We are leaving the place, dissipating in three directions, when I decide to put in the last word
"Mental or not; I'd tap that if I got the chance"
LuckyLuke, now three meters away, half turns his head and bluntly says
"Then make the chance"
At that instant I was wingslapped back to reality.
I was risen from my grave, I was made to feel the horror of the wrong mentality I was carrying with me.
I woke up.
That, is one thing a good wingman does.
Now I got four.
All good friends; all good wings.
I still run solo though. Let's see if I learn to fly in formation.
Red Baron - out.
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