HIBLITS

"You know, Berkley, I was thinking," I said to my downstairs neighbor of almost two years, "you're the only person in my life who has met every person that I've dated over the last year and a half."

"Really?"

"Yep."

It's true. Berkley is the best neighbor anyone could wish for - friendly, supportive and helpful without being intrusive. His apartment is on the ground floor in the front, so his front porch is also the entrance way to the apartment building, and he has met and been friendly to many a man walking me home from a date.

"Well, I guess so. And I'll tell you this - some of 'em I've liked, and some of 'em I haven't."

"Really?" He's so polite and unassuming, I was surprised that he had actually been forming opinions all of those times. I resisted the strong urge to quiz him about each one individually, especially the most recent.

"Yep. You're too good for most of 'em. Don't do that."

"I guess that's why none of them have stuck around for very long, huh?" I grinned. "Maybe we should come up with some sort of signal!"

"Yep, if I scratch my nose, it means that I didn't like 'em."

"Done." What do I have to lose? Berkley's instincts can't be any better or worse than my own. Besides, I have a feeling if he ever scratched his nose he'd just be confirming something I already knew deep down.

"Yeah, then they'll all just turn into HIBLITS," he said. "Do you know what a HIBLIT is?"

"No..."

"Had It But Lost It." He grinned and turned to walk down the street.

I smiled as I watched him go.