Dealing with the devil; rejecting men and massaging egos

In the old flat I used to live in, I had a neighbour called Steve. And by neighbour, I mean he lived two doors down, and by Steve, I mean that’s obviously not his real name but in a rare fit of diplomacy, I’ve decided to be discrete today. When I first moved in, Steve asked me out on a date, which I politely declined. I had no interest in Steve, didn’t want to get to know him, and nor was I attracted to Steve, physically or mentally.

One day, Steve was locked out of his house, so he rang my doorbell and asked if he could come into my back garden, jump over the walls to his garden, and into his open back door. I said yes because you look a little paranoid if you say no.